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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30354 ***
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/broomsquire00baririch
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      Minor typographical errors in the original text have been
+      corrected. Footnotes have been numbered and moved to the
+      end of the file.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOM-SQUIRE
+
+by
+
+S. BARING-GOULD
+
+Author of "Mehalah," "Court Royal," "The Gaverocks,"
+"Noemi," "Eve," Etc., Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York and London
+Frederick A. Stokes Company
+Publishers
+
+Copyright 1895,
+By S. Baring-Gould.
+
+Copyright 1896,
+By Frederick A. Stokes Company.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER                                           PAGE
+
+         I. AT THE SIGN OF THE SHIP                  1
+
+        II. WANDERING SOULS                          8
+
+       III. THE PUNCH-BOWL                          14
+
+        IV. WITHOUT A ROOF                          22
+
+         V. MEHETABEL                               28
+
+        VI. MEHETABEL IT MUST BE                    35
+
+       VII. FALSE PERSPECTIVE                       41
+
+      VIII. ONLY A CHARITY GIRL                     48
+
+        IX. BIDEABOUT                               55
+
+         X. INTO THE NET                            63
+
+        XI. A SURNAME AT LAST                       70
+
+       XII. UNEXPECTED                              77
+
+      XIII. HOME                                    85
+
+       XIV. NOT PARADISE                            92
+
+        XV. IVER                                    98
+
+       XVI. AGAIN IVER                             105
+
+      XVII. DREAMS                                 112
+
+     XVIII. REALITIES                              117
+
+       XIX. BACK AGAIN                             124
+
+        XX. GONE                                   131
+
+       XXI. THOR'S STONE                           137
+
+      XXII. IVER! COME                             144
+
+     XXIII. A SHOT                                 149
+
+      XXIV. THE IRONSTONE HAMMER                   156
+
+       XXV. AN APPARITION                          162
+
+      XXVI. A SECRET                               169
+
+     XXVII. POISON                                 176
+
+    XXVIII. A THREAT                               182
+
+      XXIX. A HERALD OF STRIFE                     189
+
+       XXX. A BEQUEST                              195
+
+      XXXI. SURPRISES                              203
+
+     XXXII. ANOTHER SURPRISE                       208
+
+    XXXIII. MARKHAM                                216
+
+     XXXIV. THE PICTURE                            222
+
+      XXXV. THE ONLY CHANCE                        228
+
+     XXXVI. THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT                   235
+
+    XXXVII. A MENACED LIFE                         243
+
+   XXXVIII. SHUT OUT                               249
+
+     XXXIX. AT THE SILK MILL                       256
+
+        XL. BY THE HAMMER POND                     262
+
+       XLI. WANDERERS                              268
+
+      XLII. THE CAVE                               275
+
+     XLIII. AT COLPUS'S                            282
+
+      XLIV. AGAIN-IRONSTONE                        288
+
+       XLV. IN HOPE                                294
+
+      XLVI. A TROUBLED HOPE                        300
+
+     XLVII. BEFORE THE JUDGE                       307
+
+    XLVIII. THE VERDICT                            314
+
+      XLIX. WELCOME                                321
+
+         L. MOVE ON                                327
+
+        LI. THOR'S STONE AGAIN                     334
+
+       LII. THE ROSE-CLOUD                         341
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOM-SQUIRE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+AT THE SIGN OF THE SHIP.
+
+
+On a September evening, before the setting of the sun, a man
+entered the tavern of the Ship in Thursley, with a baby under his
+arm.
+
+The tavern sign, rudely painted, bore, besides a presentment of a
+vessel, the inscription on one side of the board:--
+
+  "Now before the hill you climb,
+   Come and drink good ale and wine."
+
+On the other side of the board the legend was different. It ran
+thus:--
+
+  "Now the hill you're safely over,
+   Drink, your spirits to recover."
+
+The tavern stood on the high-road side between Godalming and
+Portsmouth; that is to say the main artery of communication between
+London and Portsmouth.
+
+After rising out of the rich overshadowed weald land, the road had
+crossed long sandy wastes, where population was sparse, where were
+no enclosures, no farms, only scattered Scottish firs; and in front
+rose the stately ridge of sandstone that culminates in Hind Head
+and Leith Hill. It was to prepare the wayfarer for a scramble to
+the elevation of a little over nine hundred feet that he was
+invited to "drink good ale and wine," or, if he were coming from
+the opposite direction was called upon to congratulate himself in
+a similar manner on having over-passed this ridge. The wayfarer
+with the baby under his arm came from the Godalming side. He looked
+up at the sign, which appealed at once to his heart, for he was
+obviously a sailor, no less than did the invitation commend itself
+to his condition.
+
+He entered, tumbled the baby on to the tavern table that was
+marked with wet rings from beer cans, and upset a saucer containing
+fly poison, and said, with a sigh of relief--
+
+"There you are! Blowed and all of a lather!"
+
+He pulled out a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief, mopped his face
+and shouted, "Beer!"
+
+"Well, I never!" exclaimed the landlady. "Whoever heered afore or
+saw of a babby lugged about wrong side uppermost. What would you
+say if I was to bring you your tankard topsy-turvy?"
+
+"I wouldn't pay for it," said the sailor.
+
+"'Cos why?" asked the woman, planting herself arms akimbo, in front
+of the wayfarer.
+
+"'Cos it 'ud capsize the ale," he answered.
+
+"Very well, ain't babbies got no in'ards to capsize?" asked the
+landlady, defiantly. "And chucked in among the pison for killing
+them dratted flies, too!"
+
+"Never mind about the kid," said the man.
+
+"I do mind about the child," retorted the woman; "look at him
+there--the innocent--all in the nasty slops. What'll the mother say
+to the mess and crumple you've made of the clothes?"
+
+The landlady took the infant from the table, on one arm, and
+proceeded to the bar to draw the beer.
+
+Presently she returned, kissing the child and addressing it in
+terms of affection. She thrust the pewter full of foaming ale on
+the table towards the customer, with resentfulness in her action.
+
+"He's a stomachy (sturdy) young chap," she said, patting the babe
+with the now disengaged hand.
+
+"He ain't a he at all," retorted the man. "He's a she."
+
+"A girl, is it!" exclaimed the hostess; "and how came you by the
+precious?"
+
+"Best rights of all," answered the man; "'cos I'm the kid's father."
+
+"Her mother ought to be ashamed of herself letting you haul about
+the poor mite under your arm, just as though she was pertatoes."
+
+"Her mother can't help it," said the man. "She's dead, and left
+me wi' this here child a month or six weeks old, and I've been
+sweating along the way from Lun'non, and she yowlin' enough to
+tear a fellow's nerves to pieces." This said triumphantly; then in
+an apologetic tone, "What does the likes o' me know about holdin'
+babies? I were brought up to seamanship, and not to nussin'. I'd
+joy to see you, missus, set to manage a thirty-pounder. I warrant
+you'd be as clumsy wi' a gun as I be wi' a kid."
+
+"D'r say," responded the landlady, "and where be you a-g'win to
+with this here angel? Takin' her to sea to make a mermaid of her?"
+
+"No, I aren't," said the mariner. "Her mother's dead--in lodgin's
+down by the Katherine docks, and got no relatives and no friends
+there. I'm off to sea again when I've dispodged o' this here
+incumbrance. I'm takin' her down to her mother's sister--that way."
+He indicated the down road with his thumb.
+
+"It's a wonder you ain't made a crook of her backbone, it is,"
+said the woman. "And if you'd gone and crippled she for life, what
+would you think o' that?"
+
+"I didn't carry her like that all the road," answered the sailor.
+"Part ways I slung her over my back."
+
+"Wonder she's alive. Owdatious strong she must be. Come in, my
+cherry beam. I'll give you as good as mother's milk. Three parts
+water and a bit o' shuggar. Little your father thinks o' your
+wants so long as he gets his ale."
+
+"I let her suck my thumb," said the sailor, timidly.
+
+"Much good she got out o' that," retorted the landlady. "Yes,
+yes, my syrup. I'll give you something."
+
+"If you can stop her yowling, I'll thank you."
+
+With a contemptuous look at the father, the hostess withdrew.
+
+Then the sailor planted his elbows on the table, drank a long
+draught of beer, and said, sententiously, "It's an institootion
+is wimin."
+
+"Woman is the joy of our lives," said a lanky, dark-haired man
+at the table.
+
+"'Tain't exactly that," answered the sailor, now first observing
+that there were other men in the room. "'Tis that there's things
+for everything--there's the capstan for hawlin' up the anchor, and
+there's the woman for nussin'. They was ordained to it--not
+men--never, no--not men. Look at my hand." The sailor extended
+his arm across the table. "It's shakin' like a guitar-string when
+a nigger's playing--and all along of that kid's yawls. Wimin
+likes it."
+
+"It's their moosic," said the lanky man.
+
+Then in rushed the landlady with flashing eyes, and holding out
+both palms before her said, "The child's mouth be that purple or
+blue--it's fits."
+
+"It's blackberries," answered the seaman. "They was nice and ripe,
+and plenty of them."
+
+"Blackberries!" almost shrieked the hostess, "and the child not
+six weeks old! You've killed her! It's upset her blessed little
+inside."
+
+"I thought I'd done wrong," said the sailor, timidly, "that's why
+I was a-carryin' of her topsy-turvy. I thought to ha' shooked the
+blackberries out again."
+
+"If that child dies," exclaimed the landlady, solemnly, "then
+where will you go to, you unnat'ral parient?"
+
+"I did it wi' the best intention," apologized the man.
+
+"That's what Betsy Chaffers said when she gave wrong change. Oh
+that heaven should ever a created man. They's terrible monsters."
+
+She disappeared again after the child.
+
+The sailor drank more beer, sighed, wiped his brow, then his
+upper lip, and looked appealingly about him at the men who were
+present. Of these there were four and a half. That is to say, four
+men and a boy. Three of the men were at the table, and of these
+the lanky sallow man was one.
+
+These three men were strange, unpleasant-looking fellows, dressed up
+in scraps of incongruous clothing, semi-nautical, semi-agricultural.
+One was completely enveloped in a great-coat that had belonged to
+a very tall and stout man, and he was short and thin. Another was
+incompletely dressed, for what garments he had on were in rags
+that afforded glimpses between them of tattered lining, of flesh,
+but of no shirt.
+
+The third man had the unmistakable lower jaw and mouth of an
+Irishman.
+
+By the fire sat an individual of a different type. He was a young
+man with heavy brows and a large mouth devoid of lips, set tight
+as a snapped man-trap. He had keen, restless, watchful eyes. His
+hair was sandy, thrust forward over his brow, and hanging low
+behind. On the opposite side of the hearth crouched a boy, a
+timid, delicately formed lad with a large head and full lustrous
+eyes.
+
+"Come from far?" asked one of the ragamuffins at the table.
+
+"Didn't yur hear me say from Lun'non town?" answered the sailor.
+"Lagged that there dratted baby the whole way. I'll have another
+glass of beer."
+
+"And what distance are you going?" asked the lanky man.
+
+"I shall put into the next port for the night, and tomorrow on to
+Portsmouth, and stow away the kid with my wife's sister. Lord! I
+wishes the morrer were well over."
+
+"We're bound for Portsmouth," said the man in tatters. "What say
+you? shall we keep company and relieve you of the kid? If you'll
+pay the shot here and at the other end, and at the other pubs--can't
+say but what we'll ease you."
+
+"It's a bargain," exclaimed the sailor. "By George! I've had
+enough of it from Lun'non here. As to money, look here," he put
+his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out a handful of
+coins, gold, silver and copper together. "There is brass for all.
+Just home, paid off--and find my wife dead--and me saddled with
+the yowling kid. I'm off to sea again. Don't see no sport
+wider-erring here all bebothered with a baby."
+
+"We are very willing to accompany you," said the tattered man, and
+turning to the fellow with sallow face and lantern jaws, he said,
+"What's your opinion, Lonegon?"
+
+"I'm willing, Marshall; what say you, Michael Casey?"
+
+"Begorra--I'm the man to be a wet nuss."
+
+The sailor called for spirits wherewith to treat the men who had
+offered their assistance.
+
+"This is a mighty relief to me," said he. "I don't think I could
+ha' got on by myself."
+
+"You've no expayrience, sir," said Casey. "It's I'm the boy for
+the babbies. Ye must rig up a bottle and fill it with milk, and
+just a whisk of a drop of the craytur to prevent it curdling, and
+then stuff the mouth with a rag--and the darlin'll suck, and suck,
+and be still as the evenin' star as I sees yonder glimmering at
+the window."
+
+"You'll have to start pretty sharp if you want to get on a stage
+before dark," said the man by the fire.
+
+"It's a lone road," threw in the boy shyly.
+
+"What's the odds when we are four of us?" asked the man whose name
+was Lonegon.
+
+"And all of us pertecting the little cherub from ketching cold,"
+threw in Casey.
+
+"We ain't afraid--not we," said the ragged man.
+
+"Not of bogies, at any rate."
+
+"Oh, you need not fear bogies," observed the man at the fire, dryly.
+
+"What is it, then?" asked Michael Casey. "Sure It's not highwaymen?"
+
+The man by the fire warmed his palms, laughed, and said: "It would
+take two to rob you, I guess, one to put the money into your pocket
+and the second to take it out."
+
+"You're right there," answered the Irishman, laughing. "It's my
+pockets be that worn to holes wi' the guineas that have been in
+them, that now they let 'em fall through."
+
+The man by the fire rubbed his palms together and made a remark in
+a low tone--addressed to the boy. Lonegon turned sharply round on
+his seat and cried threateningly, "What's that you're hinting
+agin us? Say it again, and say it aloud, and I'll knock your
+silly, imperdent head off."
+
+"I say it again," said the young man, turning his cunning head
+round, like a jackdaw. "I say that if I were going over Hind Head
+and by the Punch Bowl at night with as much money in my pocket as
+has that seaman there--I'd choose my companions better. You haven't
+heard what I said? I'd choose my companions better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WANDERING SOULS.
+
+
+The long, lean fellow, Lonegon, leaped to his feet, and struck at
+the man by the fire.
+
+The latter was prepared for him. He had snatched a brand from the
+hearth, and without losing the sarcastic laugh on his great mouth,
+presented it sharply in the way of the descending fist, so as to
+catch Lonegon's wrist.
+
+The sparks flew about at the clash, and the man who had received the
+blow uttered a howl of pain, for his wrist was torn by the firewood,
+and his hand burnt by the fire.
+
+With an imprecation and a vow to "do for" "eyes, liver, and lights"
+of the "clodhopper," he rushed at him blindly. With a mocking laugh,
+the man assailed thrust forth a leg, and Lonegon, stumbling across
+it, measured his length on the floor.
+
+The man called Marshall now interfered by snatching the pewter
+tankard from the sailor, and aiming it at the head of him who had
+overthrown his mate.
+
+At the same time the boy, terrified, began to scream. "Mother!
+mother! help! pray! they'll murder Bideabout."
+
+The hostess speedily appeared, set her arms akimbo, planted her
+feet resolutely on the floor, and said, in commanding tones--
+
+"Now then! No fighting on the premises. Stand up, you rascal. What
+have you done with the pewter? Ah, crushed out of all shape and use.
+That's what Molly Luff sed of her new bonnet when she sat down on
+it--Lawk, a biddy! Who'd ha' thought it?"
+
+Lonegon staggered to his feet, and burst into a torrent of
+recrimination against the man whom the boy had called Bideabout.
+
+"I don't care where the rights are, or where be the wrongs. An
+addled egg be nasty eating whether you tackle it one end or 'tother.
+All I sez is--I won't have it. But what I will have is--I'll be
+paid for that there tankard. Who threw it?"
+
+"It was he--yonder, in tatters," said the boy.
+
+"You won't get money out o' me," said Marshall; "my pockets--you may
+turn 'em out and see for yourself--are rich in nothing but holes,
+and there's in them just about as many of they as there are in the
+rose o' a watering can."
+
+"I shall be paid," asserted the hostess. "You three are mates, and
+there'll be money enough among you."
+
+"Look here, mistress," put in the sailor, "I'll stand the damage,
+only don't let us have a row. Bring me another can of ale, and tell
+me what it all comes to. Then we'll be on the move."
+
+"The other fellows may clear off, and the sooner the better," said
+the landlady. "But not you just now, and the baby has dropped off
+into the sweetest of sleeps. 'Twere a sin to wake her."
+
+"I'm going on to the Huts," said the seaman.
+
+"And we're going with him as a guard to the baby," said the Irish
+fellow.
+
+"A blackguard set," threw in Bideabout.
+
+"What about the color so long as it is effective?" asked Casey.
+
+By degrees the anger of Lonegon was allayed, and he seated himself
+growling at the table, and wiped the blood from his torn wrist on
+his sleeve, and drawing forth a dirty and tattered red kerchief,
+bound it round the bruised and wounded joint. The man, Bideabout,
+did not concern himself with the wrath or the anguish of the man.
+He rubbed his hands together, and clapped a palm on each knee, and
+looked into the fire with a smirk on his face, but with an eye on
+the alert lest his adversary should attempt to steal an advantage
+on him.
+
+Nor was he unjustified in being on his guard, judging by the
+malignant glances cast at him by Lonegon.
+
+"Whom may you be?" asked the tattered man.
+
+"I'm Jonas Kink," answered the young fellow at the fire.
+
+"He's Bideabout, the Broom-Squire," explained the landlady. Then
+with a glimmering of a notion that this variation in names might
+prove confusing, she added, "leastways that's what we calls him.
+We don't use the names writ in the Church register here. He's the
+Broom-Squire--and not the sort o' chap for you ragamuffins to
+have dealings with--let me tell you."
+
+"I don't kear what he be," said Lonegon, sullenly, "but dang it,
+I'd like a sup o' ale with your leave," and without further
+ceremony he took the new tankard from the sailor and quaffed off
+half its contents.
+
+The hostess looked from the drinker to the seaman and said, "Are
+you standing tick for they?"
+
+"I'll pay for their drink and they'll help me along the road with
+the baby," said the sailor.
+
+The landlady shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, and asked, "If
+I may be so bold, what's her name?"
+
+"What's whose name?"
+
+"The baby's."
+
+"Ha'n't got none," said the seaman.
+
+"What, ain't she been christened yet?"
+
+"No, I reckon not," answered the father. Then he proceeded to
+explain. "You see my poor wife she was down in lodgings and
+hadn't no friends nor relations no'ther nigh her, and she took
+ill and never got over the birth of this here babe, and so it
+couldn't be done. But the kid's aunt'll see to all that right
+enough when I've got her there."
+
+"What! you're trapsing about the country hugging a babe along
+under your arm and slung over your shoulder and feeding her o'
+blackberries and chucking her in among fly poison, and not a
+Christian yet! My! What a world it is!".
+
+"All in good time, missus."
+
+"That's what Betsy Cole said o' her pork and 'ams when the pig
+wor killed and her hadn't salt nor saltpetre. She'd see to it
+some day. Meanwhile the maggots came and spiled the lot."
+
+"It shall all be made right in a day or two."
+
+"Ah! but what if it be too late? Then where will you go to some
+day? How can you say but that the child wi' being hung topsy-turvy
+and swinging like a pendiddlum may die of the apoplexy, or the
+blackberries turn sour in her blessed stomach and she go off in
+convulsions, or that she may ha' put out the end o' her tongue
+and sucked some o' that there fly paper? Then where will you be?"
+
+"I hope I shall be on board ship just before that comes to pass,"
+said the sailor.
+
+"Do you know what happens if a child dies and ha'n't been
+christened? It becomes a wanderer."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"It ain't a Christian, so it can't go to heaven. It ain't done
+no evil, so it can't go to hell; and so the poor spirit wanders
+about in the wind and never has no rest. You can hear them piping
+in the trees and sobbin' at the winder. I've heard 'm scores of
+times. How will you like that when at sea to have your own child
+sighing and sobbin' up in the rigging of the vessel, eh?"
+
+"I hope it will not come to that," said the sailor.
+
+"That's what Susan Bay said when she put a darnin' needle into
+the armchair cushion, and I sed, said I, 'twas a ticklesome thing
+and might do hurt. She did it once too often. Her old man sat
+down on it."
+
+She brought some more ale at the request of the seaman, and as
+she set down the tankard said:
+
+"I won't be so bold as to say it's in Scriptur', but it's in
+the Psalm-book I dare swear. Mother, she were a tip-top tearin'
+religious woman, and she used to say it to me when I was younger
+than I be now:--
+
+  "'They flies in clouds and flap their shrouds
+     When full the moon doth shine;
+    In dead of night when lacketh light,
+     We here 'em pipe and pine.
+
+  "'And many a soul wi' hoot and howl
+     Do rattle at the door,
+    Or rave and rout, and dance about
+     All on a barren moor.'
+
+"And it goes on somehow like this. You can think on it as you go
+over Hind Head in the dark:
+
+  "'Or at the winder wail and weep,
+     Yet never venture nigher;
+    In snow and sleet, within to creep
+     To warm 'em at the fire.'"
+
+The child began to cry in the adjoining room.
+
+"There," said the landlady, "'tis awake she is, poor mite without
+a name, and not as much Christianity as could make a cat sneeze.
+If that there child were to die afore you got to Portsmouth and
+had her baptized, sure as my name is Susanna Verstage, I'd never
+forgive myself, and I'd hear her for sure and certainty at the
+winder. I'm a motherly sort of a woman, and there's a lot o' them
+poor wanderers comes piping about the panes of an evening. But I
+can do nothing for them."
+
+"Now then, lads, let's be moving," said the mariner.
+
+The three men at the table rose; and when standing exposed more of
+their raggedness and the incongruity of their apparel than was
+shown when they were seated.
+
+The landlady reluctantly surrendered the child.
+
+"A babe," said she, "mustn't be shaken after feeding;" then, "a
+babe mustn't be allowed to get its little feet cold, or gripes
+comes;" then, "you must mind and carry it with the head to your
+shoulder, and away from the wind." Presently another item occurred
+to the good woman, as the men left their places at the table: "You
+must hold the child on your arm, between the wrist and the
+elbow-jint."
+
+As they went to the door she called, "And never be without a drop
+o' dill water: it's comforting to babies."
+
+As they made their exit--"And when nussin', mind, no green meat
+nor fruit."
+
+When all had departed the landlady turned to the man by the fire,
+who still wore his sarcastic smirk, and said "Bideabout! What do
+you think of they?"
+
+"I think," answered the Broom-Squire, "that I never saw three
+such cut-throat rascals as those who have gone off with the sailor;
+and as for him--I take he's softish."
+
+"I thought him a bit of a natural."
+
+"He must be so to start on one of the lonesomest roads in England,
+at fall of night, with such a parcel of jailbirds."
+
+"Well, dear life!" exclaimed the good woman. "I hope nothing will
+hap' to the poor child."
+
+"Mother," said the boy, timidly, "it's not true is it about the
+spirits of babies in the wind?"
+
+"Of course it is. Where would you have them go? and they bain't
+Christians. Hark! I won't say there be none flying about now. I
+fancy I hear a sort of a kind o' whistling."
+
+"Your boy Iver, he's coming with me to the Punch-Bowl," said the
+Broom-Squire; "but I'll not go for half-an-hour, becos I don't
+want to overtake that lanky, black-jawed chap as they call Lonegon.
+He ain't got much love for me, and might try to repay that blow on
+his wrist, and sprawl on the floor I gave him."
+
+"What is Iver going to the Punch-Bowl for?" asked the landlady,
+and looked at the boy, her son.
+
+"It's a snipe's feather Bideabout has promised me," answered the
+lad.
+
+"And what do you want a snipe's feather for at this time o' night?"
+
+"Mother, it's to make a paint brush of. Bideabout ain't at home
+much by day. I've been over the road scores o' times."
+
+"A paint brush! What do you want paint brushes for? Have you
+cleaned out the pig-stye lately?"
+
+"Yes, mother, but the pig lies abroad now; it's warm in the stye."
+
+"Well, you may go. Dear life! I wish I could see that blessed babe
+again, safe and sound. Oh, my!"
+
+The good-hearted woman was destined to have her wish answered more
+speedily than she could have anticipated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE PUNCH-BOWL.
+
+
+The Broom-Squire and the boy were on their way up the hill that
+led towards the habitation of the former; or, to be more exact, it
+led to the summit of the hill whence the Squire would have to
+diverge at a sharp angle to the right to reach his home.
+
+The evening had closed in. But that mattered not to them, for they
+knew their way, and had not far to go.
+
+The road mounted continuously, first at a slight incline, over
+sand sprinkled with Scotch pines, and then more rapidly to the
+range of hills that culminates in Hind Head, and breaks into the
+singular cones entitled The Devil's Jumps.
+
+This is one of the loveliest parts of fair England. The pine and
+the oak and the Spanish chestnut luxuriate in the soil, the sand
+tracts between the clumps are deep in heather, at intervals the
+country is furrowed as by a mighty plough; but the furrowing was
+done by man's hand to extract the metal of which the plough is
+formed. From a remote antiquity this district of Surrey, as
+well as the weald of Sussex, was the great centre of the iron
+trade. The metal lies in masses in the sand, strangely smooth and
+liver-colored, and going by the name of kidney iron. The forest of
+Anderida which covered the weald supplied at once the ore and the
+fuel for smelting.
+
+In many places are "hammer ponds," pools of water artificially
+constructed, which at one time served to turn wheels and work
+mechanism for the beating out of the iron that had been won on
+the spot.
+
+The discovery of coal and iron together, or in close proximity,
+in the North of England brought this industry of the counties of
+Surrey and Sussex to an abrupt end. Now the deposits of ore are
+no longer worked, no furnaces exist, only the traces of the old
+men's mines and forges and smelting pits remain to attest that
+from an age before Caesar landed in Kent, down to the close of
+the last century, all the iron employed in England came from this
+region.
+
+Another singular feature of the district consists in the masses
+of hard stone, gray with lichen, that lie about, here topping a
+sandhill, there dropped at random in the plain. There was at one
+time many more of these, but owing to their power of resisting
+heat they were largely exploited as hearthstones. These masses,
+there can be no doubt, are remains of superincumbent beds of hard
+rock that have been removed by denudation, leaving but a few
+fragments behind.
+
+That superstition should attach to these blocks is not marvellous.
+The parish in which lies the Punch-Bowl and rises Hind Head,
+comprises one such Thors-stone, named perhaps after the Scandinavian
+Thunder god. One of these strange masses of stone formerly occupied
+a commanding position on the top of Borough Hill. On this those in
+need knocked, whereupon the "Good People" who lived under it lent
+money to the knockers, or any utensil desired in loan, on condition
+that it was returned. One night, a petitioner, who was going to
+give a feast at the baptism of his child, went to the stone, and
+knocked, and asked in a loud voice for the loan of a cauldron.
+
+This was at once thrust out from under the stone, and was carried
+away and used for the christening feast. Unhappily, the applicant
+for the cauldron neglected to return it at the time appointed, and
+since then no more loans have been made. The cauldron, which is of
+copper, is now preserved in Frensham parish church. It is two feet
+in diameter, and stands on an iron trivet.
+
+After the road had ascended some way, all trees disappeared. The
+scenery was as wild and desolate as any in Scotland. On all sides
+heathery slopes, in the evening light a broken patch of sand
+showed white, almost phosphorescent, through contrast with the
+black ling. A melancholy bird piped. Otherwise all was still. The
+richly-wooded weald, with here and there a light twinkling on it,
+lay far below, stretching to Lewes. When the high-road nearly
+reached the summit, it was carried in a curve along the edge of
+a strange depression, a vast basin in the sand-hills, sinking
+three hundred feet to a marshy bottom full of oozing springs.
+This is termed the Devil's Punch-Bowl. The modern road is carried
+on a lower level, and is banked up against the steep incline. The
+old road was not thus protected and ran considerably higher.
+
+The night was gathering in, fold on fold, and obscuring all. The
+Punch-Bowl that the Broom-Squire and the boy had on their right
+was a bowl brimming with naught save darkness. Its depths could
+not be fathomed by the eye at that time of night, nor did any
+sound issue from it save a hissing as though some fluid were
+seething in the bowl; yet was this produced solely by the wind
+swirling in it among the harsh branches of the heather.
+
+"So your mother don't like your drawing and painting," said the
+Broom-Squire.
+
+"No, Bideabout, she and father be terrible on at me to become a
+publican, and carry along with the Ship, after father's got old
+and gived up. But I don't fancy it; in fact, I hate the thought
+of it. Of course," added the boy; "if they forces me to it, I must.
+But anyhow I wouldn't like to have that there Ship sign at our door
+so bad painted as she be. I could do better if I had the paints."
+
+"Oh! drinkers don't care for beautiful pictures at the door, but
+for good ale within."
+
+"I don't like that there ship, and I wouldn't stand it--if the
+inn were mine."
+
+"You're a fool," said the Broom-Squire contemptuously. "Here's
+the spot where the turn comes off the road to my house. Mind
+where you walk, and don't roll over down the Punch-Bowl; it's all
+a bog at the bottom."
+
+"There's no light anywhere," observed the boy.
+
+"No--no winders look this way. You can't say if a house is alive
+or dead from here."
+
+"How long have you had your place in the Punch-Bowl, Bideabout?"
+
+"I've heard say my grandfather was the first squatter. But the
+Rocliffes, Boxalls, Snellings, and Nashes will have it they're
+older. What do I care so long as I have the best squat in the lot."
+
+That the reader may understand the allusions a word or two must
+be allowed in explanation of the settlements in the Punch-Bowl.
+
+This curious depression in the sand range is caused by a number
+of springs welling up several hundred feet below the summit of
+the range. The rain that falls on the hills sinks through the sand
+until it reaches an impervious bed of clay, when it breaks forth
+at many orifices. These oozing springs in course of vast ages have
+undermined and washed away the superincumbent sand and have formed
+the crater called the Devil's Punch-Bowl. The bottom is one
+impassable swamp, and the water from the springs flows away to
+the north through an opening in the sand-hills.
+
+At some unknown date squatters settled in the Punch-Bowl, at a
+period when it was in as wild and solitary a region as any in
+England. They enclosed portions of the slopes. They built themselves
+hovels; they pastured their sheep, goats, cattle on the sides of
+the Punch-Bowl, and they added to their earnings the profits of a
+trade they monopolized--that of making and selling brooms.
+
+On the lower slopes of the range grew coppices of Spanish chestnut,
+and rods of this wood served admirably for broom-handles. The
+heather when long and wiry and strong, covered with its harsh
+leafage and myriad hard knobs, that were to burst into flower,
+answered for the brush.
+
+On account of this manufacture, the squatters in the Punch-Bowl
+went by the designation of Broom-Squires. They provided with
+brooms every farm and gentleman's house, nay, every cottage for
+miles around. A wagon-load of these besoms was often purchased,
+and the supply lasted some years.
+
+The Broom-Squires were an independent people. They used the turf
+cut from the common for fuel, and the farmers were glad to carry
+away the potash as manure for their fields.
+
+Another business supplemented farming and broom-making. That was
+holly-cutting and getting. The Broom-Squires on the approach of
+Christmas scattered over the country, and wherever they found holly
+trees and bushes laden with berries, without asking permission,
+regardless of prohibition, they cut, and then when they had a
+cartload, would travel with it to London or Guildford, to attend
+the Christmas market.
+
+Not only did they obtain their fuel from the heaths, but much of
+their victual as well. The sandy hills abound in rabbits, and the
+lagoons and morasses at the foot of the hills in the flat land
+teem with fish and wild fowl. At the present day the ponds about
+Frensham are much in request for fishing--at the time of our tale
+they were netted by the inhabitants of the neighborhood when they
+felt a hankering after fish, and the "moors," as marshes are
+locally termed, were prowled over for ducks, and the sand burrows
+watched for rabbits, all without let and hindrance.
+
+At the present date there are eight squatter families in the
+Punch-Bowl, three belong to the branches of the clan of Boxall,
+three to that of Snelling, and two to the less mighty clan of
+Nash. At the time of which I write one of the best built houses
+and the most fertile patches of land was in the possession of
+the young man, Jonas Kink, commonly known as Bideabout.
+
+Jonas was a bachelor. His father and mother were dead, and his
+sister had married one of the Rocliffe's. He lived alone in his
+tolerably substantial house, and his sister came in when she was
+able to put it tidy for him and to do some necessary cooking.
+He was regarded as close-fisted though young; his age about
+twenty-three years. Hitherto no girl had caught his fancy, or had
+caught it sufficiently to induce him to take one to wife.
+
+"Tell'y what," said his sister, "you'll be nothing else but an old
+hudger (bachelor)."
+
+This was coming to be a general opinion. Jonas Kink had a heart
+for money, and for that only. He sneered at girls and flouted them.
+It was said that Jonas would marry no girl save for her money,
+and that a monied girl might pick and choose for herself, and
+such as she would most assuredly not make election of Bideabout.
+Consequently he was foredoomed to be a "hudger."
+
+"What's that?" suddenly exclaimed the Broom-Squire, who led the
+way along a footpath on the side of the steep slope.
+
+"It's a dead sheep, I fancy, Bideabout."
+
+"A dead sheep--I wonder if it be mine. Hold hard, what's that
+noise?"
+
+"It's like a babe's cry," said the boy. "Oh, lawk! if it be dead
+and ha' become a wanderer! I shu'd never have the pluck to go
+home alone."
+
+"Get along with your wanderers. It's arrant nonsense. I don't
+believe a word of it."
+
+"But there is the crying again. It is near at hand. Oh, Bideabout!
+I be that terrified!"
+
+"I'll strike a light. I'm not so sure about this being a dead
+sheep."
+
+Something lay on the path, catching what little light came from
+the sky above.
+
+Jonas stooped and plucked some dry grass. Then he got out his
+tinderbox and struck, struck, struck.
+
+The boy's eyes were on the flashing sparks. He feared to look
+elsewhere. Presently the tinder was ignited, and the Broom-Squire
+blew it and held dry grass haulms to the glowing embers till a
+blue flame danced up, became yellow, and burst into a flare.
+
+Cautiously Jonas approached the prostrate figure and waved the
+flaming grass above it, whilst sparks flew about and fell over it.
+
+The boy, shrinking behind the man, looked timidly forward, and
+uttered a cry as the yellow flare fell over the object and illumined
+a face.
+
+"I thought as much," said the Broom-Squire. "What else could he
+expect? Them three chaps ha' murdered him. They've robbed and
+stripped him."
+
+"Oh--Bideabout!"
+
+"Aye. What other could come o' such companions. They've gone off
+wi' his clothes--left his shirt--have they? That's curious, as
+one of the blackguards had none."
+
+Then the child's wailing and sobbing sounded more continuously
+than before.
+
+"The baby ain't far off," said Jonas. "I suppose we can't leave it
+here. This is a pretty awkward affair. Tell'y what, Iver. You bide
+by the dead man and grope about for that there baby, and I'll go
+down to the houses and get help."
+
+"Oh, Bideabout! I dursn't."
+
+"Dursn't what?"
+
+"Not be left alone--here--in the Punch-Bowl with a dead man."
+
+"You're a fool," said Jonas, "a dead man can't hurt nobody, and
+them rascals as killed him are for sure a long way off by this
+time. Look here, Iver, you timid 'un, you find that squalling brat
+and take it up. I don't mind a brass fardin' being here wi' a
+corpse so long as I can have my pipe, and that I'll light. But I
+can't stand the child as well. You find that and carry it down,
+and get the Boxalls, or someone to take it in. Tell 'em there's a
+murdered man here and I'm by the body, and want to get home and
+can't till someone comes and helps to carry it away. Cut along
+and be sharp. I'd ha' given a shilling this hadn't happened. It
+may cost us a deal o' trouble and inconvenience--still--here it
+is--and--you pick about and find that creature squealin' its
+bellows out."
+
+There was callousness unusual and repulsive in so young a man.
+It jarred with the feelings of the frightened and nervous boy.
+Tears of alarm and pity were in his eyes. He felt about in the
+heather till he reached the infant. It was lying under a bush.
+He took the poor little creature up, and the babe, as though
+content to feel itself with strong arms under it, ceased to cry.
+
+"What shall I do, Bideabout?"
+
+"Do--cut along and raise the Boxalls and the Snellings, and bid
+them come and remove the body, and get someone to take the child.
+Confound the whole concern. I wish they'd done it elsewhere--or I
+hadn't come on it. But it's like my ill-luck."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+WITHOUT A ROOF.
+
+
+The boy, Iver, trudged along carrying the infant in his arms. The
+little face was against his cheek, and the warm breath played over
+it. Whenever the child cried, he spoke, and his voice reassured
+the babe, and it was quiet again. He walked cautiously, as the
+path was narrow and the night dark. A false step might send him
+rolling down the steep slope with his burden.
+
+Iver had often been to the squatters' quarters, and he knew very
+well his direction; but he was now agitated and alarmed.
+
+After a while he reached bushes and could see trees standing
+black against the sky, and caught the twinkling of lights. Before
+him was a cottage, and a little garden in front. He opened a
+wicket and went up to the door and rapped. A call of "Who is
+there?" in response. The boy raised the latch and entered.
+
+A red peat fire was burning on the hearth, and a man sat by it.
+A woman was engaged at needlework by the light of a tallow candle.
+
+"Tom Rocliffe!" exclaimed the boy. "There's been a murder. A
+sailor--he's dead on the path--there's Bideabout Kink standing
+by and wants you all to come and help and--here's the baby."
+
+The man sprang to his feet. "A murder! Who's dead?"
+
+"There was a sailor came to our place, it's he."
+
+"Who killed him?"
+
+"Some chaps as was drinking with him, so Bideabout says. They've
+robbed him--he had a lot of brass."
+
+"Dead--is he?" The man ran out.
+
+"And what have you got there?" asked the woman.
+
+"It's his baby."
+
+"How came he by the baby?"
+
+"I heard him say his wife was dead, and he were going to carry
+the child to his wife's sister."
+
+"What's the man's name?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Where did he come from?"
+
+"He was a seaman."
+
+"Where was he going to put the baby?"
+
+"I don't know 'xactly--somewhere Portsmouth way."
+
+"What's the man's name?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"How'll you find her?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Portsmouth is a large place. Are you sure she's in Portsmouth?"
+
+"He said Portsmouth way, I think."
+
+"Then there be a difficulty in finding her?"
+
+"'Spose there will. Will you take the baby?"
+
+"I-I--" The woman stared. "What's its name?"
+
+"It ain't got none."
+
+"Is it a boy or girl?"
+
+"I think it's a girl."
+
+"How old is it?"
+
+"I think he said about six weeks."
+
+"Is it healthy?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Maybe it has the smallpox."
+
+"I do not think so. Will you take it?"
+
+"I--not I. I know nothin' about it. There's no saying, it might
+bring diseases into the house, and I must consider my own children.
+Is it terrible dirty?"
+
+"I--I don't think so."
+
+"And it hasn't got a name?"
+
+"No; the sailor said it was not baptized."
+
+"What's the color of its eyes?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Has it got any hair?"
+
+"I have not looked."
+
+"P'raps it's an idjot?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"And is deformed?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Well, I can't have no baby here as I don't know nothin about. You
+can take it over to the Snellings. They may fancy it. I won't have
+nothin' to do with a babe as ain't got no parents and no name, and
+ain't got no hair and no color in its eyes. There is my Samuel
+snorin'. Take the child away. I don't want no measles, and smallpox,
+and scarlatina, and rickets brought into my house. Quick, take the
+nasty thing off as fast as you can."
+
+Iver shrunk away, left the house, and made his way, carrying the
+baby, to another cottage a hundred yards distant. There was a lane
+between them, with a stream running through it, and the banks were
+high and made the lane dark. The boy stumbled and fell, and though
+he probably had not hurt the child, he had frightened it, and it set
+up loud and prolonged screams. With brow bathed in perspiration,
+and heart beating from alarm, Iver hurried up to the second
+squatter's cabin, and, without knocking, burst in at the door.
+
+"I say," shouted he, "there's been a man killed, and here's a
+baby yelling, and I don't know what's the matter with it. I
+stumbled."
+
+A man who was pulling off his boots started to his feet.
+
+"Stop that darned noise," he said. "My wife--she's bad--got the
+fever, and can't abide no noise. Stop that din instantly, or I'll
+kick you out. Who are you, and what do'y mean rushing in on a
+fellow that way?"
+
+The boy endeavored to explain, but his voice was tremulous, and
+the cries of the infant pitched at a higher note, and louder.
+
+"I can't hear, and I don't want to," said the man. "Do you mind
+what I sed? My wife be terrible bad wi' fever, and her head all of
+a split, and can't bear no noise--and will you do what I say? Take
+that brat away. Is this my house or is it yours? Take that 'orrid
+squaller away, or I'll shy my boot at yer head."
+
+"But," said Iver, "there's a man dead--been murdered up in the--"
+
+"There'll be more afore long, if you don't cut. I'll heave that
+boot at you when I've counted thrice, if you don't get out. Drat
+that child! It'll wake my wife. Now, then, are you going?"
+
+Iver retreated hastily as the man whirled his heavy boot above his
+head by the lace.
+
+On leaving the house he looked about him in the dark. The cottages
+were scattered here and there, some in hollows by springs, others
+on knolls above them, without a definite road between them, except
+when two enclosures formed a lane betwixt their hedges.
+
+The boy was obliged to step along with great care, and to feel his
+way in front of him with his foot before planting it. A quarter
+of an hour had elapsed before he reached the habitation of the
+next squatter.
+
+This was a ramshackle place put together of doors and windows
+fitted into walls, made of boards, all taken from ruinous cottages
+that had been pillaged, and their wreckage pieced together as best
+could be managed. Here Iver knocked, and the door was opened
+cautiously by an old man, who would not admit him till he had
+considered the information given.
+
+"What do you say? A man murdered? Where? When? Are the murderers
+about?"
+
+"They have run away."
+
+"And what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Would you mind taking in the poor little baby, and going to help
+Master Bideabout Kink to carry the body down."
+
+"Where to? Not here. We don't want no bodies here."
+
+The old fellow would have slammed the door in Iver's face had not
+the boy thrust in foot and knee.
+
+Then a woman was heard calling, "What is that there, Jamaica? I
+hear a babe."
+
+"Please, Mrs. Cheel, here is a poor little creature, the child of
+the murdered man, and it has no one to care for it," said the boy.
+
+"A babe! Bless me! give the child to me," cried the woman. "Now
+then, Jamaica, bundle out of that, and let me get at the baby."
+
+"No, I will not, Betsy," retorted the man designated Jamaica. "Why
+should I? Ask for an inch, and they'll have an ell. Stick in the
+toe of the baby, and they'll have the dead father after it. I don't
+want no corpses here."
+
+"I will have the baby. I haven't set my eyes on a baby this
+hundred years."
+
+"I say you shan't have nothing of the sort."
+
+"I say I shall. If I choose to have a baby, who's to say me nay?"
+
+"I say you nay. You shan't have no babies here."
+
+"This is my house as much as yourn."
+
+"I'm master I reckon."
+
+"You are an old crabstick."
+
+"You're an old broom-handle."
+
+"Say that again."
+
+"I say it."
+
+"Now then--are you going to hit me?"
+
+"I intend to."
+
+Then the old man and his wife fell to fighting, clawing and
+battering each other, the woman screaming out that she would have
+a baby, the man that she should not.
+
+Iver had managed to enter. The woman snatched at the child, the
+man wrenched it away from her. The boy was fain to escape outside
+and fly from the house with the child lest the babe should be torn
+in pieces between them. He knew old Cheel and his wife well by
+repute--for a couple ever quarrelling.
+
+He now made his way to another house, one occupied by settlers of
+another family. There were here some sturdy sons and daughters.
+
+When Iver had entered with the babe in his arms and had told his
+tale, the young people were full of excitement.
+
+"Bill," said one of the lads to his brother, "I say! This is
+news. I'm off to see."
+
+"I'll go along wi' you, Joe."
+
+"How did they kill him?" asked one of the girls. "Did they punch
+him on the head?"
+
+"Or cut his throat?" asked Bill.
+
+"Joe!" called one of the girls, "I'll light the lantern, and
+we'll all go."
+
+"Aye!" said the father, "these sort o' things don't happen but
+once in a lifetime."
+
+"I wouldn't be out of seeing it for nuthin'," said the mother.
+"Did he die sudden like or take a long time about it?"
+
+"I suppose they'll inquitch him," said one of the girls.
+
+"There'll be some hanging come o' this," said one of the boys.
+
+"Oh, my! There will be goings on," said the mother. "Dear life,
+I may never have such a chance again. Stay for me, Betsy Anne.
+I'm going to put on my clogs."
+
+"Mother, I ain't agoing to wait for your clogs."
+
+"Why not? He won't run away."
+
+"And the baby?" asked Iver.
+
+"Oh, bother the baby. We want to see the dead man."
+
+"I wonder, now, where they'll take him to?" asked the mother.
+"Shall we have him here?"
+
+"I don't mind," said the father. "Then he'll be inquitched here;
+but I don't want no baby."
+
+"Nor do I nuther," said the woman. "Stay a moment, Betsy Anne!
+I'm coming. Oh, my! whatever have I done to my stocking, it's
+tore right across."
+
+"Take the child to Bideabout," said one young man, "we want no
+babies here, but we'll have the corpse, and welcome. Folks will
+come and make a stir about that. But we won't have no babies.
+Take that child back where you found it."
+
+"Babies!" said another, scornfully, "they come thick as blackberries,
+and bitter as sloes. But corpses--and they o' murdered men--them's
+coorosities."
+
+"But the baby?" again asked the boy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MEHETABEL.
+
+
+Iver stood in the open air with the child in his arms. He was
+perplexed. What should be done with it? He would have rubbed
+his head, to rub an idea into it, had not both his arms been
+engaged.
+
+Large warm drops fell from the sky, like tears from an overcharged
+heart. The vault overhead was now black with rain clouds, and a
+flicker over the edge of the Punch-Bowl, like the quivering of
+expiring light in a despairing eye, gave evidence that a thunderstorm
+was gathering, and would speedily break.
+
+The babe became peevish, and Iver was unable to pacify it.
+
+He must find shelter somewhere, and every door was shut against the
+child. Had it not been that the storm was imminent, Iver would have
+hasted directly home, in full confidence that his tender-hearted
+mother would receive the rejected of the Broom-Squire, and the
+Ship Inn harbor what the Punch-Bowl refused to entertain.
+
+He stumbled in the darkness to Jonas Kink's house, but finding the
+door locked, and that the rain was beginning to descend out of the
+clouds in rushes, he was obliged to take refuge in an out-house or
+barn--which the building was he could not distinguish. Here he was
+in absolute darkness. He did not venture to grope about, lest he
+should fall over some of the timber that might be, and probably was,
+collected there.
+
+He supposed that he was in the place where Jonas fashioned his
+brooms, in which case the chopping block, the bundles of twigs,
+as well as the broom-sticks would be lying about. Bideabout was
+not an orderly and tidy worker, and his material would almost
+certainly be dispersed and strewn in such a manner as to trip
+up and throw down anyone unaccustomed to the place, and unprovided
+with a light.
+
+The perspiration broke out on the boy's brow. The tears welled up
+in his eyes. He danced the infant in his arms, he addressed it
+caressingly, he scolded it. Then, in desperation, he laid it on
+the ground, and ran forth, through the rain, to the cottage of an
+old maid near, named Sally, stopping, however, at intervals in his
+career, to listen whether the child were still crying; but unable
+to decide, owing to the prolonged chime in his ears. It is not at
+once that the drums of hearing obtain relief, after that they have
+been set in vibration by acute clamor. On reaching the old maid's
+door he knocked.
+
+For some time Sally remained irresponsive.
+
+"I knows very well," said she to herself under the bedclothes,
+"it's that dratted boy who has been at the Rocliffe's."
+
+Iver persisted in knocking. At length she appeared at the casement,
+opened it, thrust forth her nightcapped head, and said peevishly,
+"It ain't no manner o' use. I won't have no babies here, not to
+my time o' life, thank'y. I sez I won't, and wot I sez that I
+sticks to like toffee between the teeth. You may knock them there
+knuckles of yorn into dimples, but open I won't. I won't. I won't."
+
+The old woman stamped on her bedroom floor.
+
+"I do not ask that, Sally," pleaded the boy. "I have set the baby
+in Bideabout's barn, and there's no knowin', it may get hold of
+the chopper and hack off its limbs, or pull down all the rick o'
+broom-handles on Itself, or get smothered in the heather. I want
+a lantern. I don't know how to pacify the creature, and 'tis
+squeadling that terrible I don't know what's the matter."
+
+"Is it a drawin' of the hind legs up, and stiffenin' of the back?"
+asked the old maid.
+
+"I think so," answered the boy, dubiously; then, with further
+consideration, "I'm sure of it. It wriggled in my arms, like a worm
+when one's gettin' it on a hook out fishing."
+
+"That's convulsions," said Sally. "'Twill go off in one of they,
+sure as eggs is eggs and ain't inions."
+
+"Do you really say so?"
+
+"It's that, or water on the brain. Wi' all this pouring rain, I
+shouldn't wonder if 'twasn't the tother. Not, you know, that I've
+any acquaintance wi babies. Only I've heard wimmin talk as has had
+'em just like rabbits."
+
+"Do they die when they have water on the brain?" asked the boy.
+
+"Always. Babies can't stand it, no more nor can goslings gettin'
+their backs wetted."
+
+"Don't you think that perhaps it's only hunger?"
+
+"Can't say. Has the babe been a grabbin' and a clawin' at your
+nose, and a tryin' to suck it?"
+
+"Once, Sally, when my nose got into the way."
+
+"Then there's hunger too," said Sally, sententiously. "Them babies
+has terrible apertites, like canibals, and don't know what's good
+for 'em."
+
+"Will you help me?" pleaded the boy. "Have you a feeding bottle?"
+
+"Presarve and deliver us--I! What do you take me for, you imperant
+bye?"
+
+"I think any medicine bottle would do, if well washed out. I
+shouldn't like, if there was any castor oil or senna tea dregs
+left, you know. But properly washed out, it might do, with a
+little milk in it."
+
+"You'll choke the baby like that," said the old maid.
+
+"I have seen how it is done. You stuff a bit of rag into the
+throat of the bottle, and leave a tip o' rag hanging out."
+
+"Dare say, but you byes seems to understand these things better
+than I."
+
+"Won't you come down and help me, Sally?"
+
+"I'll come down presently when I've tumbled into some of my
+clothes."
+
+Then the head disappeared, and the casement was shut.
+
+After the lapse of a few minutes, a light appeared at the window
+of the lower room, and the door was slowly unlocked and unbarred.
+
+Then the old woman appeared in the doorway. She wore her huge
+white-frilled nightcap, that fluttered in the wind about the
+shrivelled face it enclosed, but she presented an extremely limp
+and attenuated appearance in her person.
+
+"I've been a turnin' over in my head," she said, "and ten chances
+to half-a-one, if that there child hev been squealin' so long,
+it's either broke a blood vessel, or will die o' 'plexy. There'll
+be a purty expense to the parish. There'll be two buryings laid
+on it that oughten't to be. That means an extra penny in the
+rates. If them there chaps wanted to murder a man, why didn't
+they go and do it in Hampshire, and not go a burdenin' of this
+county an' parish? There's rayson in everything."
+
+"Do you really suppose the child will die?" asked the boy, more
+concerned about the life than about the rates.
+
+"How can I say? I've had precious little to do wi' babies, thanks
+be. Now, sharp, what is it you want? I'm perishin' wi' cold."
+
+"May I have a bottle and some milk, and a lantern?"
+
+"You can have wot you wants, only I protest I'll have no babies
+foist on me here." Then she added, "I will not trust you byes.
+Show me your hands that you ain't hidin' of it behind yer back."
+
+"I assure you the child is in Bideabout's shed. Do be quick, and
+help. I am so afraid lest it die, and becomes a wanderer."
+
+"If I can help it I will do what I can that it mayn't die, for
+certain," said the woman, "anything but taking it in here, and
+that I won't, I won't, I won't." Again she stamped.
+
+Iver provided himself with the requisites as speedily as might be,
+and hastened back to the outhouse. At the door a cat was miawling,
+and rubbed itself against his shins. When he entered the cat
+followed him.
+
+The child was still sobbing and fitfully screaming, but was rapidly
+becoming exhausted.
+
+Iver felt the arms and head and body to ascertain whether any bone
+was broken or battered by the fall, but his acquaintance with the
+anatomy of a child was still rudimentary for him to come to any
+satisfactory conclusion.
+
+He held the bottle in one and, but was ignorant how to administer
+the contents. Should the child be laid on its back or placed in a
+sitting posture?
+
+When he applied the moistened rag to its mouth he speedily
+learned that position was immaterial. The babe fell to work
+vigorously, with the large expectation of results. Some moments
+elapsed before it awoke to the fact that the actual results were
+hardly commensurate with its anticipations, nor with its exertions.
+
+When roused to full consciousness that it was being trifled with,
+then the resentment of the infant was vehement and vociferous.
+It drew up its legs and kicked out. It battled with its hands, it
+butted with its pate, and in its struggles pulled the plug out
+of the mouth of the flask so that the milk gushed over its face
+and into its mouth, at once blinding and choking it.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall I do?" he exclaimed, and began to
+cry with vexation.
+
+The cat now came to his assistance. It began to lick up the spilled
+milk.
+
+Iver seized the occasion.
+
+"Look, see, pretty puss!" said he, caressingly, to the child.
+"Stroke pussy. Don't be afraid. You see she likes the milk that you
+wouldn't have. Naughty pussy eats little birds and mousies. But she
+won't touch babies."
+
+The cat having appropriated the spilled milk looked at the infant
+with an uncanny way out of her glinting green eyes, as though by no
+means indisposed to try whether baby was not as good eating as a
+fledgling bird, as toothsome as a mouse.
+
+Iver caught up the cat and scratched her under the chin and behind
+the ears.
+
+"Do you hear? The pussy purrs. Would that you also might purr. She
+is pleased to make your acquaintance. Oh do, do, do be quiet!"
+
+Then casting aside the cat he endeavored slowly to distil some of
+the milk down the child's throat without suffering it to swallow
+too much at once, but found the task difficult, if not impossible
+for his hand shook.
+
+"Wait a bit," said he. "There are straws here. I will cut one and
+put it through the rag, and then you can tipple like a king upon
+his throne."
+
+He selected a stout barley straw, and finding a knot in it
+endeavored to perforate the obstruction with a pin. When this
+failed he looked about for another straw, and at last discovered
+one that was strong, uninterrupted by knots, and sufficiently
+long to serve his purpose.
+
+For awhile he was so engrossed in his occupation that the child
+remained unnoticed. But when the straw had been adjusted
+satisfactorily, and the apparatus was in working order, as Iver
+ascertained by testing it himself, then he looked round at his
+charge.
+
+The babe was lying silent and motionless.
+
+His heart stood still.
+
+"It is dead! It is going to die! It will become a wanderer!" he
+exclaimed; and putting down the feeding bottle, snatched up the
+lantern, crept on his knees to the child, and brought the little
+face within the radius of the sickly yellow light.
+
+"I cannot see! O, I can see nothing! There is no light worth
+having!" he gasped, and proceeded to open the door in the lantern
+side.
+
+"What is do be done?" he asked despairingly. "I do not know if it
+be dying or be in a fit. O! live! do, do live! I'll give you a
+brass button and some twine out of my pocket! I promise you my
+next lollipops if you will. Nasty, cross, disobliging thing."
+He went to the barn door and looked out, saw that the rain was
+coming down in torrents, came back. "Is it true," asked he,
+"that you must be a wanderer, if you die unchristened? Shall I
+ever hear you yowling in the wind? It is too, too dreadful!"
+
+A chill came over the boy's heart.
+
+Iver had never seen death. He was vastly frightened at the thought
+that the little soul might fleet away whilst he was watching. He
+dared not leave the child. He was afraid to stay. If he were to
+desert the babe, and it expired--and to run home, would not the
+soul come crying and flapping after him?
+
+He considered with his hands to his head.
+
+"I know what I will do!" exclaimed he, suddenly; "I'll make a
+Christian of it, anyhow."
+
+There was standing on the floor an old broken red bowl of coarse
+pottery, out of which fowls had been fed. It was now empty.
+
+Iver took it, wiped it out with his hand, and went with it to
+the door, where a rude "launder" or shoot of wood carried the
+water from the thatch immediately over the door, and sent the
+collected moisture in a stream down one side. The boy held the
+vessel under the shoot till he had obtained sufficient for his
+purpose, and then, returning within, said, "I'll stop your
+wandering," went up to the child, sprinkled some water over it
+and said, "Mehetabel, I baptize thee--"
+
+The cat made a spring and dashed past.
+
+Down went the contents of the bowl over the babe, which uttered
+a howl lusty, loud enough to have satisfied any nurse that the
+baptism was valid, and that the devil was expelled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+MEHETABEL IT MUST BE.
+
+
+In at the barn door came Mrs. Verstage, Iver's mother.
+
+"Iver! Wot's up?"
+
+"Oh, mother!"
+
+"Where's that babe?"
+
+"Here, mother, on the ground."
+
+"On the ground! Good life! Sowsed, soaked through and through,
+whatever have you been doin'? Holdin' it under the spout?"
+
+"Baptizin' it, mother."
+
+"Baptizin' of it?" The woman stared.
+
+"I thought the creetur was dyin'."
+
+"Well, and wot then?"
+
+"Mother. Lest it shud take to wanderin'."
+
+"Baptizin' of it. Dear life! And what did you call it?"
+
+"Mehetabel."
+
+"Mehetabel! 'Taint a human name."
+
+"It is, mother. It's a Scriptur name."
+
+"Never heard on it."
+
+"Mehetabel was the wife of Hadar."
+
+"And who the dickens was Hadar?"
+
+"He was a dook--a dook of Edom."
+
+In the churchyard of Thursley stands a large white stone, on
+which is carved a medallion, that contains the representation
+of a man falling on the ground, with one arm raised in deprecation,
+whilst two men are robbing and murdering him, and a third is
+represented as acting sentinel lest the ruffians should be
+surprised. On the ground are strewn the garments of the man who
+is being killed. Beneath this rudely sculptured group is this
+inscription:--
+
+  I N  M E M O R Y  O F
+
+  A generous, but unfortunate Sailor,
+  Who was barbarously murdered on Hind Head,
+  On September 24th, 1786,
+
+  B Y  T H R E E  V I L L A I N S,
+
+  After he had liberally treated them and promised
+  them his farther Assistance on the Road
+  to Portsmouth.
+
+In the "Royal Huts," a tavern, in which now very good entertainment
+for man and beast may be had, a tavern which stands somewhat
+further along the way to Portsmouth than Hind Head, may be seen
+at this day some rude contemporary paintings representative of
+the murder.
+
+The ruffians after having killed their victim, robbed him, not
+only of his money, but also of his clothes, and hastened on their
+way.
+
+A hue and cry were raised, when the corpse had been discovered,
+and the men were arrested upon the following day at Sheet, near
+Peterhead, and were found in possession of the clothing of the
+deceased. In due course of time they were tried at Kingston, and
+on the 7th of April, 1787, were hung and gibbeted in chains on
+Hind Head Hill, beside the old road and close to the scene of
+their crime.
+
+A cross now marks the summit, and indicates the spot where stood
+the gallows, and a stone for some time pointed out the locality
+where the murder was committed. When, however, the new Portsmouth
+Road was cut further down the hill, skirting the Punch-Bowl at a
+lower level, then the stone was removed to the side of the new
+road. At present it is an object visited by vast numbers of
+holiday-makers, who seem to take almost as lively an interest
+in the crime that was committed over a century ago as if it were
+an event of the present day. At the time the murder aroused the
+greatest possible excitement in the neighborhood, and pre-eminently
+in the parish of Thursley.
+
+As may be gathered from the wording of the inscription on the
+tombstone that covers the victim, his name never transpired. No
+relations claimed the right to bury him. None appeared to take
+charge of his orphan child.
+
+The parish fretted, it fumed, it protested. But fret, fume, and
+protest availed nothing, it had to defray the cost of the funeral,
+and receive and lap the child in its parochial mercies.
+
+A deceased wife's sister undoubtedly existed somewhere. Such was
+the conviction of every parishioner. The poor man was on his way
+to Portsmouth to deposit his child with her when the tragic event
+took place. Why did she not come forward? Why did she hold her
+tongue?
+
+Had there existed in her bosom one particle of natural feeling
+she would not have remained mute and motionless, and allowed the
+parish to bury her brother-in-law and encumber itself with her
+niece.
+
+So the parish talked, appealingly, argumentatively, blusteringly,
+objurgatively, but all to no purpose. The deceased wife's sister
+kept mum, and invisible. Reluctantly, resentfully, the parish was
+finally obliged to face the facts, pay the expenses of the
+interment, and settle that a weekly dole should be afforded for
+the maintenance of the child, and as that deceased wife's sister
+did not appear, the parochial bile overflowed upon the hapless
+babe, who came to be regarded as an incubus on the ratepayers and
+a general nuisance.
+
+The one difficulty that solved itself--ambulando, was that as to
+who would take charge of the child. That was solved by the hostess
+of the Ship.
+
+The parish endeavored to cajole the good woman into receiving the
+babe as a gift from Heaven, and to exact no compensation for her
+labors in rearing it, for the expense of clothing, feeding,
+educating it. But Mrs. Verstage was deaf to such solicitations.
+She would take charge of the child, but paid she must be. Eventually
+the parochial authorities, after having called a vestry, and sat
+three hours in consultation, and to "knuckle under," as the hostess
+expressed it, and allow a trifle for the entertainment of the
+little waif.
+
+So the matter was settled.
+
+Then another had to be determined. What about the christening
+performed in the shed by Iver? What about the outlandish name
+given the child? The landlady raised no question on these heads
+till it was settled that the little being was to be an inmate of
+her house, and under her care. Then she reasoned thus--"Either
+this here child be a Mehetabel or she bain't. Either it's a
+Christian or it's a heathen. What is it? Is it fish, is it flesh,
+or is it good red herring? It ain't no use my calling her Mehetabel
+if she bain't nothing of the sort. And it ain't no use teachin'
+her the caterplasm, if she ha'n't been made a Christian. I'll go
+and ax the pa'son."
+
+Accordingly the good woman took Iver by the shoulder and dragged
+him to Witley Vicarage, and stated her case and her difficulties.
+The Vicar had already had wind of what had occurred. Thursley was
+at the period a chapelry in the extensive parish of Witley, and
+the church therein had, before the Reformation, been regularly
+served by the monks of Witley Abbey. It was afterwards more or
+less irregularly supplied with sacred ministrations from the
+mother-church, and had no resident pastor.
+
+In former days the parishioners were never very sure whether there
+was to be a service in Church at Thursley or not. The sexton was
+on the look-out, and if he saw the parson's wig glimmering over
+the hedge top, as he rode along, then he at once rushed to the
+bell-rope and announced to such of the parishioners as were within
+hearing, that there was to be divine service. If there were no
+service, then those who had come from a distance in expectation of
+devotion, retired to the tavern and drank and gossiped, and were
+not disposed to cavil. The Church of Thursley is curious, it has
+a central bell-tower supported on huge beams of oak, such oaks they
+must have been as are never seen now. Those desiring to see the
+parson had to seek him in the Vicarage of the mother parish.
+
+Mrs. Verstage accordingly had to go with her boy to Witley.
+
+"If the boy gave a name," said the parson.
+
+"He did, your Reverence, and such a name."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Mehetabel."
+
+"Wherever did you pick up that name?" asked the Vicar, turning to
+the boy.
+
+"Please, sir, we was doin' the Dooks of Edom in Sunday-school.
+We'd already learned David's mighty men, and could run 'em off
+like one o'clock, and--I don't know how it was, sir, but the name
+slipped out o' my mouth wi'out a thought. You see, sir, we had so
+many verses to say for next Sunday, and I had some of the Dooks of
+Edom to repeat."
+
+"Oh! So you gave it the name of one of the Dukes."
+
+"Please, sir, no. Mehetabel was the wife of one, she was married
+to his Grace, Dook Hadar."
+
+"Oh, Hadar! to be sure, quite so; quite so! Very good boy, glad
+you are so well primed in all things necessary to salvation."
+
+"And is the child to be called Mehetabel?" asked the woman.
+
+"That depends," said the Vicar. "How did the boy perform the
+sacred function?"
+
+"Please, sir," said Iver, "I did it as your Honor does, after the
+second lesson on Sunday afternoon, and the churching."
+
+"He hadn't no surplice on," argued the mother.
+
+"You had a bowl of pure water?" asked the parson.
+
+"Yes, sir, rain water. I caught it out of the spout."
+
+"And the words used?"
+
+"The same as you say, sir; exactly."
+
+The parson rubbed his chin.
+
+"Was it done in thoughtlessness--in irreverent folly?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir! I did it in sober earnest. I thought the child was
+going to die."
+
+"Of course," said the Vicar, "lay baptism is valid, even if
+administered by a Dissenter; but--it is very unusual, very much so."
+
+"I didn't do all that about the cross," observed Iver, "because the
+cat jumped and upset the bowl."
+
+"Of course, of course. That belongs to the reception into the
+church, and you couldn't do that as it was--"
+
+"In Bideabout's basin," said Iver.
+
+"You are certain the water touched the child?"
+
+"Soused her," responded the hostess. "She caught a tremendous
+cold out o' it, and has been runnin' at the nose ever since."
+
+"I think the very best thing we can do," said the Vicar, "is that
+I should baptize the child conditionally, in church,--conditionally
+mind."
+
+"And call her by another name?" asked the woman.
+
+"I do not think I can do that."
+
+"It's a terrible mouthful," observed Mrs. Verstage.
+
+"I daresay that in practice you will be able to condense it. As
+for that boy of yours, ma'am, I should like a word with him, by
+himself."
+
+"So, the creetur must bide Mehetabel?"
+
+"Mehetabel it must be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FALSE PERSPECTIVE.
+
+
+As this story concerns that child which received the name of
+Mehetabel, it has been necessary to begin _de novo_ with her as
+a babe, and to relate how she came by her name--that is her
+Christian name--and how it was that she had no surname at all.
+Also, how it was that she came to be an inmate of the Ship, and
+how that her fortunes were linked at the very outset of her career,
+on the one hand with Iver, who baptized her, and on the other
+hand with the Broom-Squire, whose roof--that at least of his
+shed--had sheltered her when every door of the squatter settlement
+in the Punch-Bowl, was resolutely closed against her.
+
+But although this story begins with Mehetabel before she could
+speak, before she could assimilate anything more substantial than
+milk, yet the author has no intention of inflicting on the reader
+the record of her early days, of her acquisition of the power of
+speech, and capacity for consuming solid food. Neither is it his
+purpose to develop at large the growth of her mental powers, and
+to describe the evolution of her features. Suffice it then to say
+that Mehetabel grew up in the Ship Inn, almost as a child of the
+hostess and of her husband, with Iver as her playmate, and somewhat
+consequential patron.
+
+By the parish at large, whether that of Witley or of its subdivision
+Thursley, she was coldly regarded. She was but a charity girl, and
+kind as Mrs. Verstage was, the hostess never forgot that.
+
+Iver was fourteen years older than Mehetabel, and, above all, was
+a boy, whereas Mehetabel was a waif, and only a girl.
+
+Iver, moreover, regarded the child with gracious condescension. Had
+he not baptized her? Did she not owe her name to him? Had he not
+manufactured her first feeding-bottle?
+
+As Mehetabel grew up, it is not surprising that she should regard
+Iver with admiration and affection, that she cherished every
+kindness he showed her, and in every way sought to deserve his
+notice.
+
+The child had an affectionate, a clinging nature, and she threw
+the tendrils of her heart around the handsome boy, who was both
+patron and playmate.
+
+It is a matter wholly immaterial whether Mehetabel underwent the
+ordeal of the customary childish maladies, measles, chicken-pox,
+whooping-cough for certainty, and scarlet fever and smallpox as
+possibilities, for none of them cut short the thread of her life,
+nor spoiled her good looks; either of which eventualities would
+have prevented this story proceeding beyond the sixth chapter. In
+the one case, there would have been no one about whom to write,
+in the other, had she been marked by smallpox or deafened by
+scarlatina, the interest of the reader could not have been claimed
+for her--so exacting is the reader of fiction. A heroine must be
+good-looking, or she will not be read about.
+
+Indeed, it is more than probable, that had the author announced his
+story to be one of a very plain woman, he might have looked in
+vain for a publisher to undertake the issue of the story.
+
+Before proceeding further it will be well to assure the reader
+that, from an early age, promise of beauty was given, and not of
+beauty only, but of intelligence and robust health.
+
+Mehetabel was sent by Mrs. Verstage not only to a day school, kept
+by a widow, in Thursley, but also on the Lord's Day to the Vicar's
+Sunday-school at Witley. The Vicar was an excellent man, kindly
+disposed, earnest in his desire to do good, so long as the good was
+to be done in a novel fashion, absolutely untried. Sunday-schools
+were but a recent introduction, and he seized on the expedient with
+avidity. Hitherto the children had been catechised in Church after
+the second lesson in the afternoon, before their parents and the
+entire congregation. But as this was an usage of the past the Vicar
+rejected it in favor of the new system. According to the traditional
+custom the children had been instructed in the Creed, the Lord's
+Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. But this did not please the
+innovating Vicar, who cast these out of his curriculum to make way
+for a knowledge of the geography of Palestine, and an accurate
+acquaintance with the genealogies that are to be found scattered
+here and there in the pages of Holy Writ, The teaching of doctrine,
+according to the Vicar, lay at the bottom of the divisions of
+Christendom, but there could be no controversy over the latitude
+and longitude of the sites mentioned in Scripture.
+
+The landlord, proprietor of the Ship and of Mrs. Susanna Verstage,
+was a dull, obstinate man, slow of thought and of speech, withal
+kindly. Like many another dull man, if he did a stupid thing he
+stuck to it; and the stupider the thing done, the greater the
+tenacity with which he held to the consequences. His mind was
+chiefly occupied with a small farm acquired out of the sand waste,
+hedged about, dressed and cultivated, and increasing annually in
+value. In this was his interest and pride; he cared nothing for
+the tavern, save as an adjunct to the farm. All his energies were
+devoted to the latter, and he allowed his wife to rule supreme in
+the inn. Simon Verstage was a well-to-do man. He must have managed
+very ill had he not made a farm answer for which he paid no rent,
+save an acknowledgment of 6d. an acre to the lord of the manor. He
+held the land on a head rent upon the lives of himself, his wife,
+and his son. The public-house, well frequented by wayfarers, and
+in good repute among the villagers, supplemented the profits made
+out of the farm in good years, and made up for deficit in such
+years as rain and deficiency in sun made bad agriculturally.
+
+The inn stood at a junction of roads, or rather where two lanes
+fell into the main London and Portsmouth road. It sometimes went
+in consequence by the name of The Lane End Inn. In situation it
+was fairly sheltered, a hillock of sand rock sheltered it on the
+east from the bitter winds that swept the waste between Milford
+and Thursley, and a growth of huge hollies was its protection
+against the equally cold blasts from the north.
+
+So long as Iver was a small boy, his father employed him about
+the farm, to assist him in ploughing, to hoe potatoes, and wield
+the muck-fork in the cow-house, or, to use the local term, the
+cow-stall. He kept the lad hard at work from morning rise till set
+of day.
+
+Iver endured this, not entering with interest and pleasure into
+the work of the farm. He had no perception of the points of a
+bullock, and he had a prejudice in favor of ragged hedges.
+
+Iver's neglect of duties, and forgetfulness of what was told him,
+called forth reprimand and provoked chastisement. They were not
+due to wilfulness or frivolity, but to preoccupation of the mind.
+The boy had no natural taste for the labors of the field. He
+disliked them; for everything else he had eyes, save for that
+which pertained to the tasks imposed on him.
+
+Throughout early boyhood this lack of interest and inattention had
+caused much friction, and this friction became aggravated as he
+grew older, and his natural bent became more marked.
+
+It would be hard to find in one family two persons so utterly
+dissimilar as Iver and his father. They seemed to have diverse
+faculties seated in their several organs. They neither saw, heard,
+nor smelt in the same manner, or rather saw, heard, and smelt so
+differently as to feel in distinct fashion. What pleased the one
+was distasteful to the other.
+
+It was not possible for Iver to open his mind to his father,
+because his father could not understand and appreciate his thoughts.
+
+But if his heart was sealed to Simon Verstage, it was open to his
+mother, who loved and spoiled him, and took his part invariably,
+whether the boy were in the right or wrong. In every way possible
+she humored his fancies; and she, unwisely, condoled with him on
+what she was pleased to consider as his father's injustice. At
+length there ensued a rupture so wide, so aggravated by mutual
+recrimination, that Mrs. Verstage doubted her ability to bridge
+it over.
+
+This breach was occasioned by Iver one morning climbing to the
+sign-board and repainting the stern of the vessel, which had long
+irritated his eye because, whereas the ship was represented sideways,
+the stern was painted without any attempt at fore-shortening; in
+fact, full front, if such a term can be applied to a stern.
+
+The laws of perspective were outraged in the original painting; of
+such laws Iver knew nothing. What he did know was that the picture
+was wrong. His eye, his natural instinct told him so. The matter
+had been for long one of controversy between himself and his
+father. The latter had been unable to understand that if the
+portholes at the side were visible, the entire stern could not
+possibly be viewed in full.
+
+"She's got a stern, ain't she?" asked the old man. "If she has,
+then wot's we to deny it her?"
+
+At length Iver cut the controversy short, and brought the quarrel
+to a crisis by climbing a ladder with a brush and some paints
+obtained from the village carpenter, during the temporary absence
+of his father, and putting the foreshortening to rights to the
+best of his ability.
+
+When the old man was aware what his son had done on his return
+from Godalming, whither he had betaken himself to a fair, then he
+was furious. He stormed at Iver for daring to disfigure the
+sign-board, and at his wife for suffering him to do it unreproved.
+
+Iver turned stubborn and sulky. He muttered an answer, lacking in
+that respect due to a parent. The old man became abusive.
+
+Mrs. Verstage intervened ineffectually; and when night arrived the
+youth made a bundle of his clothes and left the house, with the
+resolve not to return to it so long as his father lived.
+
+Whither he had gone, for a long time was unknown. His mother wept,
+so did Mehetabel. The old man put on an assumption of indifference,
+was short and ungracious to his wife. He was constrained to engage
+a man to do the farm work hitherto imposed upon Iver, and this
+further tended to embitter him against his rebellious son. He
+resented having to expend money when for so long he had enjoyed
+the work of Iver free of cost.
+
+The boy's pride prevented him from writing home till he had secured
+himself a position in which he could maintain himself. When he did
+communicate with Thursley, it was through Mehetabel, because Simon
+had forbidden any allusion to the truant boy, and Mrs. Verstage was
+not herself much of a scholar, and did not desire unnecessarily to
+anger her husband by having letters in his handwriting come to her
+by the post.
+
+Years passed, during which the landlady's heart ached for her son:
+and as she might not speak of him to Simon, she made a confidant
+of Mehetabel.
+
+Thus, the old woman and the girl were drawn closer together, and
+Mehetabel glowed with the thought that she was loved by the hostess
+as though she were her own daughter.
+
+To talk about the absent one was the great solace of Susanna
+Verstage's life. There ever gnawed at her heart the worm of
+bereavement from the child in whom her best affections, her
+highest pride, her sole ambitions were placed. It may be questioned
+whether, without the sympathetic ear and heart of Mehetabel into
+which to pour her troubles and to which to confide her hopes, the
+woman would not have deteriorated into a hard-hearted virago.
+
+Her love to Simon, never very hot, had dried up. He had wounded
+her to the quick in unpardonable fashion in driving her only child
+out of the house, and all for the sake of a two-penny-ha'penny
+signboard.
+
+Throughout her work she schemed, she thought for Iver; she toiled
+and endured in the tavern only to amass a competence for him. She
+clung to the place only because she trusted some day he would
+return to it, and because every corner was sweet with recollections
+of him.
+
+When not at work she dreamed, waking or sleeping, and all her
+dreams were of him. She built castles in the air--all occupied
+by him. She had but one hope: to meet her son again. All her
+activities, all her thoughts, all her aspirations, all her prayers
+were so many lines focussing on one point, and that her son. To
+Mehetabel she told her mind, and Mehetabel shared all her hopes;
+the heart of the girl beat in entire sympathy with that of the
+hostess. Iver's letters were read and re-read, commented on, and
+a thousand things read into them by the love of the mother that
+were not, and could not be there. These letters were ever in the
+girl's bosom, kept there to be out of reach of old Simon, and to
+be accessible at all moments to the hungering mother. They heard
+that Iver had taken to painting, and that he was progressing in his
+profession; that he gave lessons and sold pictures.
+
+What musings this gave rise to! what imaginations! What expectations!
+
+Mrs. Verstage never wearied of talking of Iver to Mehetabel, and
+it never wearied the girl to speak with the mother about him.
+
+The girl felt that she was indispensable to the old woman; but that
+she was only indispensable to her so long as Iver was away never
+entered into her imagination.
+
+There is a love that is selfish as well as a love that is wholly
+self-annihilating, and an inexperienced child is incapable of
+distinguishing one from the other.
+
+There is false perspective in the human heart as well as upon
+signboards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ONLY A CHARITY GIRL.
+
+
+Simon Verstage sat outside the door of his house, one hot June
+evening, smoking his pipe.
+
+By his side sat his wife, the hostess of the Ship. Eighteen years
+have passed since we saw her last, and in these years she has
+become more plump, a little more set in features, and mottled in
+complexion, but hardly otherwise older in appearance.
+
+She was one of those women who wear well, till a sickness or a
+piercing sorrow breaks them down, and then they descend life's
+ladder with a drop, and not by easy graduation.
+
+Yet Mrs. Verstage had not been devoid of trouble, for the loss of
+her son, the very apple of her eye, had left an ache in her heart
+that would have been unendurable, were not the balm of hope
+dropped into the wound. Mehetabel, or as she was usually called
+Matabel, had relieved her of the most onerous part of her avocation.
+Moreover, she was not a woman to fret herself to fiddle-strings;
+she was resolute and patient. She had formed a determination to
+have her son home again, even if she had to wait for that till
+his father was put under ground. She was several years younger
+than Simon, and in the order of nature might calculate on enjoyment
+of her widowhood.
+
+Simon and his wife sat in the wide porch. This had been constructed
+as an accommodation for wayfarers, as an invitation to take shade
+and shelter in hot weather or Mustering storm; but it also served
+what was uncontemplated, as an ear to the house. Whatever was
+uttered there was audible within--a fact very generally forgotten
+or unsuspected by such as occupied the porch. And, indeed, on the
+present occasion, this fact was wholly unconsidered by the taverner
+and his spouse, either because it escaped their minds that the
+porch was endowed with this peculiarity, or else because the only
+person then in the house was Mehetabel, and her hearing or not
+hearing what was said was an indifferent matter.
+
+Had there been customers present, drinking, the two would not have
+been together when and where they were, nor would the topic of
+conversation between them have been of a private nature.
+
+The innkeeper had begun with a remark which all the world might
+hear, and none would controvert, viz., that it was fine hay-making
+weather, and that next day he purposed carrying the crop.
+
+But Mrs. Verstage was indisposed to discuss a matter so obvious as
+the weather, and so certain as that it would be utilized for
+saving the hay. She plunged at once into that which lay near her
+heart, and said, "Simon, you'll answer that there letter now?"
+
+"Whose? Iver's?"
+
+"Of course, Iver's letter. Now you yourself have heard from him,
+and what does that mean but he wants all square between you. He
+has got into a famous business. He sells his pictures and gives
+lessons in drawing and painting at Guildford. It's but a matter of
+time and he will be a great man."
+
+"What! as a drawing master? I'd as lief he played the fiddle and
+taught dancing."
+
+"How can you say that, Simon?"
+
+"Because it is what I feels. Here he had a good farm, a good inn,
+and a good business--one that don't dwindle but is on the increase,
+and the land bettering every day--and yet off he went, chucked
+aside the blessin's of Providence, to take up wi' scribblin' and
+scrawlin' on paper. If it weren't a thing altogether shameful it
+would be clear ridic'lous."
+
+Simon sucked in smoke enough to fill his lungs, and then blew it
+forth leisurely in a long spiral.
+
+"Odds' life," said he, "I don't see why I shu'd concern myself
+about the hay, nor anythin' else. I've enough to live upon and to
+enjye myself. What more do I want now?"
+
+"What more?" inquired the landlady, with a sigh and a catch in
+her voice--a sigh of sorrow, a catch of resentment. "What more--when
+your son is away?"
+
+"Whose fault is that? Home weren't good enough for he. Even the
+Old Ship on the sign-board didn't give him satisfaction, and he
+must alter it. I don't see why I should worrit myself about the
+hay or any other thing. I'll just put up my feet an enjye myself."
+
+"Simon, I pray you answer Iver's letter. Opportunities be like
+fleas, to be took sharp, or away they goes, they be terrible
+long-legged. Opportunities only come now and then, and if not
+caught are lost past recall. 'Twas so wi' Temperance Noakes, who
+might a' had the chimbley-sweep if she'd a kissed him when he
+axed. But she said, Wipe and wash your face fust--and she's an
+old maid now, and goin' sixty. Consider, Simon. Iver be your son,
+your only child. It's Providence makes us wot we is; that's why
+you're a man and not a woman. Iver hadn't a gift to be a farmer,
+but he had to paintin'. It can't be other--it's Providence orders
+all, or you might be a mother and nursin' a baby, and I smokin'
+and goin' after the plough in leggin's."
+
+"That's all gammon," growled the landlord.
+
+"We be gettin' old," pursued Mrs. Verstage. "In the end you'll
+have to give up work, and who but Iver is to come after you here?"
+
+"Him--Iver!" exclaimed Simon. "Your own self says 'e ain't fit to
+be a farmer."
+
+"Then he may let the farm and stick to the inn."
+
+"He ain't got the makin' of a publican in him," retorted the man;
+"he's just about fit for nothin' at all."
+
+"Indeed, but he is, Simon," pleaded the woman, "only not in the
+way you fancies. What good be you now in a public-house? You do
+nothing there, it is I who have all the managin'."
+
+"I attend to the farm. Iver can do neither. All the money you and
+I ha' scraped together he'll chuck away wi' both hands. He'll let
+the fences down I ha' set up; he'll let weeds overrun the fields
+I ha' cleared. It shall not be. It never shall be."
+
+"He may marry a thrifty wife, as you have done."
+
+"And live by her labor!" he exclaimed, drawing his pipe from his
+mouth and in knocking out the ash in his anger breaking the stem.
+"That a child o' mine should come to that!"
+
+"Iver is your own flesh and blood," persisted the woman, in great
+excitement. "How can you be so hard on him? It's just like that
+old fowl as pecked her eggs, and we had to wring her neck. It's
+like rabbits as eat their own young. Nonsense! You must be
+reconciled together. What you have you cannot leave to a stranger."
+
+"I can do what I will with my own," retorted Simon. "Look here,
+Susanna, haven't you had that girl, Matabel, with you in place of
+a child all these years? Don't she work like a slave? Don't she
+thoroughly understand the business? Has she ever left the hogs
+unmeated, or the cow unmilked? If it pleases you to go to market,
+to be away for a week, a fortni't you know that when you come
+home again everything will be just as you left it, the house
+conducted respectable, and every drop o' ale and ounce o' 'backy
+accounted for."
+
+"I don't deny that Matabel's a good girl. But what has that to do
+with the matter?"
+
+"What! Why everything. What hinders me leavin' the whole pass'l
+o' items, farm and Ship to her? She'll marry a stiff man as'll look
+after the farm, and she'll mind the public-house every mite as
+well as ever have you, old woman. That's a gal as knows chalk from
+cheese."
+
+Mrs. Verstage leaned back with a gasp of dismay and a cramp at
+her heart. She dropped her hands on her lap.
+
+"You ain't speaking serious, Simon?"
+
+"I might do wuss," said he; "and the wust I could do 'ad be to
+give everythin' to that wastrel, Iver, who don't know the vally of
+a good farm and of a well-established public-house. I don't want
+nobody after I'm dead and gone to see rack and ruin where all
+were plenty and good order both on land and in house, and that's
+what things would come to wi' Iver here."
+
+"Simon, he is a man now. He was a boy, and what he did as a boy
+he won't do as a man."
+
+"He's a dauber of paints still."
+
+The taverner stood up. "I'll go and cast an eye over the hay-field,"
+he said. "It makes me all of a rage like to think o' that boy."
+
+He threw away the broken pipe and walked off.
+
+Mrs. Verstage's brain spun like a teetotum; her heart turned cold.
+
+She was startled out of her musings by the voice of Mehetabel, who
+said, "Mother, it is so hot in the kitchen that I have come out to
+cool myself. Where is father? I thought I heard him talking with
+you?"
+
+"He's gone to the hay-field. He won't answer Iver's letter. He's
+just about as hard as one o' them Hammer Ponds when frozen to the
+bottom, one solid lump."
+
+"No, mother, he is not hard," said Mehetabel, "but he does not
+like to seem to give way all at once. You write to Iver and tell
+him to come here; that were better than for me to write. It will
+not seem right for him to be invited home by me. The words from
+home must be penned by you just as though spoke by you. He will
+return. Then you will see that father will never hold out when he
+has his own son before his eyes."
+
+"Did you hear all that father and I was sayin'?" asked the hostess,
+suspiciously.
+
+"I heard him call out against Iver because he altered the
+signboard; but that was done a long time agone."
+
+"Nuthin' else?"
+
+"And because he would never make a farmer nor an innkeeper."
+
+"It's a dratted noosence is this here porch," muttered the
+hostess. "It ort to 'a been altered ages agone, but lor', heart-alive,
+the old man be that stubborn and agin' all change. And you heard
+no more?"
+
+"I was busy, mother, and didn't give attention to what didn't
+concern me."
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Verstage, "only listened, did you, to what did
+concern you?"
+
+A fear had come over the hostess lest the girl had caught Simon's
+words relative to his notion, rather than intention, of bequeathing
+what he had away from Iver and to the child that had been adopted.
+
+Of course, Simon did not seriously purpose doing anything of the
+sort. It was foolish, inconsiderate of him to give utterance to
+such a thought, and that in such a place as the porch, whence
+every whisper was conveyed throughout the interior of the house.
+
+If Mehetabel had overheard his words, what a Fool's Paradise she
+might create for herself! How her head might be turned, and what
+airs she might give herself.
+
+Leave the farm, the inn, everything to a girl with whom they were
+wholly unconnected, and to the detriment of the son. Hoity-toity!
+such a thought must not be allowed to settle, to take root, to
+spring up and fructify.
+
+"Mother," said the girl, "I think that you ought to write to Iver
+with your own hand, though I know it will cost you trouble. But
+it need not be in many words. Say he must come himself without
+delay and see father. If Iver keeps at a distance the breakage
+will never be mended, the wound will never be healed. Father is
+a resolute man, but he is tender-hearted under all, and he's ever
+been wonderful kind to me."
+
+"Oh, yes, so long as he ain't crossed he's right enough with
+anyone," answered Mrs. Verstage quickly. She did not relish the
+allusion to the old man's kindness towards Mehetabel, it seemed to
+her suspicious heart due to anticipation of what had been hinted
+by him. She considered a moment, and determined to have the whole
+matter out, and to dash any expectations the girl might have formed
+at once and for ever. A direct woman Mrs. Verstage had ever been.
+
+"Matabel," she said, and drew her lips together and contracted her
+brows, "whatever father may scheme about making a will, it's all
+gammon and nonsense. I don't know whether he's said any tomfoolery
+about it to you, or may do so in time to come. Don't think nuthin'
+of it. Why should he make a will? He has but Iver to whom he can
+leave what he has. If he don't make a will--where's the odds? The
+law will see to it; that everything goes to Iver, just as it ort."
+
+"You will write to Iver to come?"
+
+"Yes, I will. Matters can't be worse than they be, and they may
+come to a betterment. O dear life of me! What I have suffered all
+these years, parted from my only child."
+
+"I have tried to do what I could for you, dear mother."
+
+"Oh, yes"--the bitterness was still oozing up in the woman's heart,
+engalling her own mind--"that I know well enough. But then you
+ain't my flesh and blood. You may call me mother, and you may
+speak of Simon as father, but that don't alter matters, no more
+nor when Samuel Doit would call the cabbage plants broccaloes did
+it make 'em grow great flower heads like passon's wigs. Iver is
+my son, my very own child. You, Matabel, are only--"
+
+"Only what, mother?"
+
+"Only a charity girl."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+BIDEABOUT.
+
+
+The words were hardly spoken before a twinge of conscience made
+Mrs. Verstage aware that she had given pain to the girl who had
+been to her as a daughter.
+
+Yet she justified herself to herself with the consideration that
+it was in the end kindest to cut down ruthlessly any springing
+expectation that might have started to life at the words of Simon
+Verstage. The hostess cast a glance at Mehetabel, and saw that her
+face was quivering, that all color had gone out of her cheeks, that
+her hands were contracted as with the cramp.
+
+"I had no wish to hurt you," said the landlady; "but facks are
+facks, and you may pull down the blinds over 'em wi'out putting
+them out o' existence. There's Laura Tickner--got a face like a
+peony. She sez it's innade modesty; but we all knows it's
+arrysippelas, and Matthew Maunder tells us his nose comes from
+indigestion; but it's liquor, as I've the best reason to know.
+Matabel, I love you well, but always face facks. You can't get rid
+of facks any more than you can get rid of fleas out o' poultry."
+
+Mrs. Verstage disappeared through the doorway. Mehetabel seated
+herself on the bench. She could not follow the hostess, for her
+limbs trembled and threatened to give way.
+
+She folded her arms on her lap, and leaned forward, with her eyes
+on the ground.
+
+"A charity girl! Only a charity girl!"
+
+She said the words to herself again and again. Her eyes burnt; a
+spray hung on her eyelids. Her lips were contracted with pain,
+spasms ran through her breast.
+
+"Only a charity girl! She'd never, never a'sed that had she loved
+me. She don't." Then came a sob. Mehetabel tried to check it, but
+could not, and the sound of that sob passed through the house.
+It was followed by no other.
+
+The girl recovered herself, leaned back against the wall, and
+looked at the twilight sky.
+
+There was no night now. The season was near midsummer:--
+
+  "Barnaby bright,
+   All day and no night."
+
+Into the luminous blue sky Mehetabel looked steadily, and did
+battle with her own self in her heart.
+
+That which had been said so shortly was true; had it been wrapped
+up in filagree--through all disguise the solid unpleasant truth
+would remain as core. If that were true, then why should she be
+so stung by the few words that contained the truth?
+
+It was not the words that had hurt her--she had heard them often
+at school--it was that "Mother" had said them. It was the way in
+which they had been uttered.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had ever been kind to the girl; more affectionate
+when she was quite a child than when she became older. Gradually
+the hostess had come to use her, and using her as a servant, to
+regard her in that light.
+
+Susanna Verstage was one of those women to whom a baby is almost
+a necessity, certainly a prime element of happiness. As she
+philosophically put it, "Men likes 'baccy; wimin likes babies;
+they was made so;" but the passion for a baby was doubly strong
+in the heart of the landlady. As long as Mehetabel was entirely
+dependent, the threads that held her to the heart of the hostess
+were very strong, and very many, but so soon as she became
+independent, these threads were relaxed. The good woman had a
+blunt and peremptory manner, and she at times ruffled the girl by
+sharpness of rebuke; but never previously had she alluded to her
+peculiar position and circumstances in such a galling manner.
+
+Why had she done this now? Why gone out of her way to do so?
+
+Mehetabel thought how wonderful it was that she, a stranger,
+should be in that house, treated almost, though not wholly, as
+its child, whereas the son of the house was shut out from
+it,--that against him only was the door fast, which was held
+open with invitation to every one else.
+
+It was the thought of this contrast, perhaps, that had been
+working in Mrs. Verstage's mind, and had provoked the impatience
+and occasioned the cruel words.
+
+"Well," said Mehetabel to herself, "I must face it. I have only
+the name that Iver gave me in the barn. I have no father, no
+mother, and no other name than that which I am given in charity."
+She looked at her gown. "I owe that to charity;" at her hands--"My
+flesh is nourished out of charity." She wiped her eyes--the very
+kerchief was a gift to her in charity. "It is so," she said. "I
+must bear the thought and get accustomed to it. I was given a
+name in charity, and in charity my father was granted a grave. All
+I can look to as in some fashion my own--and yet they are not my
+own--be the headstone in the churchyard to show how my real
+father was killed, and the gallows on Hind Head, with the chains,
+to tell where those hung who killed him. 'Tain't every one can
+show that." She raised her head with a flash of pride. Human
+Nature must find something on which to plume itself. If nothing
+else can be found, then a murdered father and a gallows for the
+murderers served.
+
+Mehetabel was a handsome girl, and she knew it. She could not
+fail to know it, situated as she was. The men who frequented the
+public house would not leave a girl long in doubt whether she
+were comely or the reverse.
+
+But Mehetabel made small account of her appearance. No youth of
+the neighborhood had won his way into her heart; and she blew away
+the compliments lavished upon her as the men blew away the froth
+from their tankards. What mattered it whether she were good-looking
+or not, so long as she was only Mehetabel, without a surname,
+without kin, without a penny!
+
+When Iver had run away from home she had done all that lay in her
+power to comfort the mother. She had relieved the landlady of half
+of her work; she had stayed up her heart when downcast, despondent.
+She had talked with her of the absent son, whose name the father
+would not allow to be mentioned in his hearing; had encouraged her
+with hopes, and, by her love, had sought to compensate for the loss.
+
+It was due to her that the Ship Inn had a breath of youth and
+cheerfulness infused into it. But for her, the absence and
+indifference of the host, and the moroseness of the disappointed
+hostess, would have driven custom away.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had found her useful, even necessary. She could
+hardly endure to be for an hour without her, and she had come to
+rely upon her more and more in the conduct of business, especially
+such as required sufficient scholarship to do correspondence and
+keep accounts.
+
+The hostess was proud of the girl's beauty and engaging manner,
+and took to herself some of the credit of having her adopted
+daughter regarded as the belle of Thursley. She was pleased to
+see that the men admired her, not less than the women envied her.
+There was selfishness in all this. Mrs. Verstage's heart was
+without sincerity. She had loved Mehetabel as a babe, because the
+child amused her. She liked her as a girl, because serviceable to
+her, and because it flattered her vanity to think that her adopted
+daughter should be so handsome.
+
+Now, however, that the suspicion was engendered that her own son
+might be set aside in favor of the adopted child, through Simon's
+partiality, at once her maternal heart took the alarm, and turned
+against the girl in resolution to protect the rights of Iver,
+Mehetabel did not understand the workings of Susanna Verstage's
+mind. She felt that the regard entertained for her was troubled.
+
+She had heard Simon Verstage's remark about constituting her his
+heir, but had so little considered it as seriously spoken, and
+as embodying a resolution, that it did not now occur to her as an
+explanation of the altered conduct of the "mother" towards herself.
+
+Mehetabel felt instinctively that a vein of truer love throbbed
+in the old host than in his wife; and now, with a hunger for some
+word of kindness after the rebuff she had sustained, she stood up
+and walked in the direction of the hayfield to meet Simon Verstage
+on his return journey.
+
+As she stepped along she heard a footfall behind her. The step
+was quickened, and a hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned,
+and exclaimed sharply:
+
+"Bideabout--what do you want?"
+
+"You, Matabel."
+
+A man stayed her: the Broom-Squire.
+
+"What with me?"
+
+"I want you to listen to what I have to say."
+
+"I can spare you a minute, not more. I expect father. He has gone
+to look at the hay."
+
+Mehetabel disengaged her shoulder from his grasp. She stepped
+back. She had no liking for the Broom-Squire. Indeed, he inspired
+her with a faint, undefined repugnance.
+
+Jonas was now a middle-aged man, still occupying his farm in the
+Punch-Bowl, making brooms, selling holly, cultivating his patch of
+land, laying by money and still a bachelor.
+
+He had rounded shoulders and a short neck; this made him thrust his
+head forward in a peering manner, like a beast of prey watching for
+a victim. His eyes were keen and restless. His hair was short-cut,
+and his ears projected from the sides of his head like those of a
+bat. Otherwise he was not a bad-looking man. His features were
+good, but his expression was unpleasant. The thin lip was curled
+contemptuously; and he had a trick of thrusting forth his sharp
+tongue to wet his lips before making a spiteful remark.
+
+He was a frequent visitor at the Ship, and indeed his inclination
+for liquor was his one weakness.
+
+Of late he had been much oftener at this inn than formerly.
+Latterly he had been profuse in his compliments to Mehetabel,
+which she had put aside, much as she brushed empty tankards, and
+tobacco ash off the table. He was no welcome guest. His bitter
+tongue was the occasion of strife, and a brawl was no infrequent
+result of the appearance of the Broom-Squire in the public house.
+Sometimes he himself became the object of attack, but usually he
+succeeded in setting others by the ears and in himself escaping
+unmolested. But on one of the former occasions he had lost two
+front teeth, and through the gap thus formed he was wont to thrust
+his tongue.
+
+"I am glad to have caught you," said the Broom-Squire; "and caught
+you alone--it is hard to find you so--as it's hard to find a
+treacle cask without flies round it."
+
+"What have you to say?"
+
+"You have always slipped out of my way when I thought I had you."
+
+"I did not know that you had a fancy to catch me alone." She made
+as if to proceed on her course.
+
+"Stand still," said he imperiously. "It must come out. Do not
+look at me with that keep-your-distance air. I mean no incivility.
+I care a deal more for you than for any one else."
+
+"That is not saying much."
+
+"I care for you alone in all the world."
+
+"Except yourself."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He breathed as though relieved of a burden.
+
+"Look here, Mehetabel, I've not been a marrying man. Wife and
+family cost too much. I've been saving and not spending. But this
+can't go on forever. All good things come to an end some time. It
+has come to this, I must have a woman to mind the house. My sister
+and I have had a tiff. You know her, Sarah Rocliffe. She won't do
+as I like, and what I want. So I'll just shut the door in her face
+and make a long nose at her, and say, 'Got some one else now.'"
+
+"So," exclaimed Mehetabel, the color rushing to her cheeks in
+anger, "you want me as your housekeeper that you may make a nose
+at your sister and deny her the house."
+
+"I won't have any other woman in my house but yourself."
+
+"You will have to wait a long time before you get me."
+
+"I mean all fair and honorable," said Jonas. "I didn't say
+housekeeper, did I? I say wife. If any chap had said to me,
+Bideabout, you are putting your feet into a rabbit net, and will
+be caught, and--'" he made a sign as if knocking a rabbit's neck
+to kill it--"I say, had any one said that, I'd a' laughed at him
+as a fool."
+
+"You may laugh at him still," said the girl. "No one that I know
+has set any net for you."
+
+"You have," he sniggered. "Aye, and caught me."
+
+"I!" laughed Mehetabel contemptuously, "I spread a net for you?
+It is you who pursue and pester me. I never gave you a thought
+save how to make you keep at arm's length."
+
+"You say that to me." His color went.
+
+"It is ridiculous, it is insulting of you to speak to me of netting
+and catching. What do I want of you save to be let go my way."
+
+"Come, Mehetabel," said the Broom-Squire caressingly, "we won't
+quarrel about words. I didn't mean what you have put on me. I want
+you to come and be my wife. It isn't only that I've had a quarrel
+with my sister. There's more than that. There is something like a
+stoat at my heart, biting there, and I have no rest till you
+say--'I'll have you, Jonas!'"
+
+"The stoat must hang on. I can't say that."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I am not obliged to give a reason."
+
+"Will you not have me?"
+
+"No, Bideabout, I will not. How can I take an offer made in this
+way? When you ask me to enable you to be rude to your sister, when
+you speak of me as laying traps for you; and when you stay me on
+my road as if you were a footpad."
+
+Again she made an attempt to go in the direction of the hayfield.
+Her bosom was heaving with anger, her nostrils were quivering.
+
+Again he arrested her.
+
+"If you will not let me go," said she, "I will call for help. Here
+comes father. He shall protect me."
+
+"I'll have you yet," said the Broom-Squire with a sneer. "If it
+ain't you that nets me, then it'll be I net you, Mehetabel."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+INTO THE NET.
+
+
+"We must have cake and ale for the hayfield," said Mrs. Verstage.
+"Of ale there be plenty in the house, but for cake, I must bake.
+It ort to ha' been done afore. Fresh cakes goes twice as fast as
+stale, but blessin's on us, the weather have been that changeable
+I didn't know but I might put it off to anywhen."
+
+This was said on the morrow of the occurrence just described.
+
+Whilst Mrs. Verstage was engaged in the baking she had not time for
+much talk, but she asked abruptly: "What's that as to Bideabout?
+Father said he'd come on you and him, and you was both in a sort
+o' take on."
+
+Mehetabel had no reason for reticence, and she told the hostess of
+the suit of the Broom-Squire, and of the manner in which he made
+his proposal. Mrs. Verstage said nothing at the time. She was
+occupied--too occupied for comments. But when the cake was in the
+oven, she seated herself at the kitchen table, with a sigh of
+relief, and beckoned to Mehetabel to do the same.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was warm, both on account of the heat of the morning,
+but also because she had been hard at work. She fanned herself
+with a dish, and as she did so looked at the girl.
+
+"So--the Broom-Squire offered himself, did he?"
+
+Mehetabel made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+"Well," continued the hostess, "if he weren't so good a customer
+here he would be suitable enough. But yet a good wife will soon
+cure him. A hudger (bachelor) does things as a married man don't
+allow himself."
+
+Mehetabel looked questioningly at the landlady.
+
+
+She said: "There must be good stuff in a man, or marriage won't
+bring it out."
+
+"Who says there ain't good stuff in Bideabout?"
+
+"I have never seen the glint of it."
+
+"You don't see the iron ore as lies under the sand, but there it
+is, and when wanted it can be worked. I like a man to show his
+wust side forefront. There's many a man's character is like his
+wesket, red plush and flowers in front and calico in rags behind
+hid away under his coat."
+
+Mehetabel was surprised, troubled. She made no response, but color
+drifted across her face.
+
+"After all," pursued Mrs. Verstage, "he may ha' come here not after
+liquor, but drawed by you. Then you see he's been alone all these
+years, and scriptur' saith it ain't good for a man to be that.
+They goes sour and mouldy--men do if unmarried. I think you'd be
+fulfillin' your dooty, and actin' accordin' to the word o' God if
+you took him."
+
+"I--mother! I!" The girl shrank back. "Mother, let him take some
+one else. I don't want him."
+
+"But he wants you, and he don't want another. Matabel, it's all
+moonshine about leap year. The time never comes when the woman can
+ax the man. It's tother way up--and Providence made it so.
+Bideabout has a good bit o' land, for which he is his own landlord,
+he has money laid by, so folks tell. You might do worse. It's a
+great complerment he's paid you. You see he's well off, and you
+have nothin'. Men generally, nowadays, look out for wives that have
+a bit o' money to help buy a field, or a cow, or nothin' more than
+a hog. You see Bideabout's above that sort o' thing. If you can't
+have butter to your bread, you must put up wi' drippin."
+
+"I'm not going to take Bideabout," said Mehetabel.
+
+"I don't say you should. But he couldn't a took a fancy to you
+wi'out Providence ordainin' of it."
+
+"And if I don't like him," threw in the girl, half angry, half
+in tears, "I suppose that is the doings of Providence too?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage evaded a reply to this. She said: "I do not press
+you to take him. You are kindly welcome to stay on with us a bit,
+till you've looked about you and found another. We took you up as
+a babe and cared for you; but the parish allowance was stopped
+when you was fourteen. It shan't be said of us that bare we took
+you in and bare we turn you out. But marry you must. It's ordained
+o' nature. There's the difference atwixt a slug and a snail. The
+snail's got her own house to go into. A slug hasn't. When she's
+uncomfortable she must go underground."
+
+The hostess was silent for awhile. Mehetabel said nothing. Her
+cheeks burned. She was choking.
+
+Mrs. Verstage went on: "There was Betsy Purvis--she was a bit of
+a beauty, and gave herself airs. She wouldn't have Farmer James,
+as his legs was so long, he looked like a spider--and she wouldn't
+have Odger Kay, as his was too short--he looked like a dachs-dog.
+It came in the end she married Purvis, who had both his legs shot
+off in the wars, 'cos and why? she couldn't get another. She'd
+been too finical in choosin'."
+
+"Are you tired of me?" gasped the girl. "Do you wish to be rid
+of me?"
+
+"Not at all," answered the landlady. "It's becos we're so fond
+of you, father and I, that we want to see you well settled."
+
+"And father--does he wish me to take Bideabout?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage hesitated.
+
+"He hasn't said that right out. You see he didn't know for certain
+Jonas were hoppin' about you. But he'd be tremendous pleased to
+have you well married."
+
+"And you think I should be well married if I became Bideabout's
+wife?"
+
+"Of course. He's a great catch for the likes of you, who belong to
+nobody and to no place, properly. Beggars mustn't be choosers."
+
+Mehetabel sprang to her feet.
+
+"It is so. I am a beggar. I am only a charity girl, nothing else."
+
+She struck her head against the wall. "Let me beat my brains out
+if I am in your way. Why should I be thrown into the arms of any
+passer-by?
+
+"You misjudge and misunderstand me," said Mrs. Verstage, hotly.
+"Because you have been with me so long, and because I love you, I
+want to see you settled. Because I can't give you a prince in
+spangles and feathers you fly out against me."
+
+"I don't ask for a prince, only to be let alone. I am happy here,
+as a girl, working for you and father."
+
+"But we shall not live forever. We are growing old, and shall
+have to give up. Iver may return any day, and then--"
+
+The hostess became crimson to the temples; she knew how handsome
+the girl was, doubly handsome she seemed now, in her heat and
+agitation, and it occurred to Mrs. Verstage that Iver with his
+artistic appreciation of the beautiful, might also think her
+handsome, that the old childish fancy for each other might spring
+to new and to stronger life, and that he might even think of
+Mehetabel as a wife. That would never, never do. For Iver something
+better must be found than a girl without means, friends, and name.
+
+"What then?" asked Mehetabel. "Suppose Iver do come here and keep
+the inn. I can go with you wherever you go, and if you become old,
+I can attend to you in your old age."
+
+"You are good," said Mrs. Verstage; but although her words were
+gracious, her manner was chilling. "It is for us to think of you
+and your future, not you to consider for us. The Broom-Squire--"
+
+"I tell you, mother, I don't like him."
+
+"You must hear me out. You do not love him. Lawk-a-jimmeny! we
+can't all marry for love. You don't suppose I was in love with
+Simon when I took him? I was a good-looking wench in my day, and
+I had many admirers, and were more of tragedy-kings than Simon.
+But I had sense, and I took him for the sake of the Ship Inn and
+the farm. We have lived happy together, and if it hadn't been for
+that matter of Iver, there'd not ha' been a cloud between us. Love
+grows among married folk, like chickweed in a garden. You can't
+keep it out. It is thick everywhere, and is never out o' season.
+I don't say there ain't a ripping of it out one day--but it comes
+again, twice as thick on the morrow, and much good it does! I don't
+think I cared for Simon when I took him any more than you care for
+Jonas, but I took him, and we've fared well enough together." After
+a pause the hostess said, "Talkin' of marriage, I have a fine
+scheme in my head. If Iver comes back, as I trust he will, I want
+him to marry Polly Colpus."
+
+"Polly Colpus, mother!"
+
+"She's James Colpus's only child, and will come in for money.
+James Colpus is a wonderful thrivin' man."
+
+"But she has a moustache."
+
+"What of that, if she have money?"
+
+"But--Iver--if he couldn't bear an ugly signboard to the house,
+will he relish an ugly figure-head to his wife within it?"
+
+"She has gold which will gild her moustache."
+
+"I don't know," said Mehetabel; "Iver wouldn't take the business
+at his father's wish, will he take a wife of his mother's
+providing?"
+
+"He will know which side his bread is buttered better than some
+persons I could name."
+
+"I fancy when folk look out for wives, they don't borrow their
+mother's eyes."
+
+"You cross me in everything to-day," said the hostess, peevishly.
+
+Mehetabel's tears began to flow.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was a woman who did not need much time or much
+balancing to arrive at a determination, and when she had formed
+her resolution, she clung to it with the same tenacity as her
+husband did to his.
+
+Her maternal jealousy had been roused, and the maternal instinct
+is the strongest that exists in the female nature. Many a woman
+would allow herself to be cut to bits for her child. But not only
+will she sacrifice herself without hesitation, but also any one
+else who in any way hinders the progress of her schemes for the
+welfare of her child. Mrs. Verstage entertained affection for the
+girl, an affection very real, yet not to the extent of allowing it
+to blind her to the true interests of her own son. She was roused
+to jealousy by the partiality of Simon for his adopted daughter, to
+the prejudice of Iver. And now she was gravely alarmed lest on the
+return of Iver, the young affection of the two children for each
+other should take a new spell of life, assume a new form, and
+intensify into passion.
+
+Accordingly she was resolved, if possible, to remove the girl
+from the Ship before the arrival of Iver. The proposal of the
+Broom-Squire was opportune, and she was anxious to forward his
+suit as the best means for raising an insuperable barrier between
+her son and the girl, as well as removing her from Simon, who,
+with his characteristic wrong-headedness, might actually do what
+he had proposed.
+
+"I don't see what you're crying about," said Mrs. Verstage,
+testily. "It ain't no matter to you whether Iver takes Polly
+Colpus or a Royal Princess."
+
+"I don't want him to be worried, mother, when he comes home with
+having ugly girls rammed down his throat. If you begin that with
+him he'll be off again."
+
+"Oh! you know that, do you?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"I know what this means!" exclaimed the angry woman, losing all
+command over her tongue. "It means, in plain English, just
+this--'I'm going to try, by hook or by crook, to get Iver for
+myself.' That's what you're driving at, hussy! But I'll put you
+by the shoulders out of the door, or ever Iver comes, that you
+may be at none of them tricks. Do you think that because he
+baptized you, that he'll also marry you?"
+
+Mehetabel sprang through the door with a cry of pain, of wounded
+pride, of resentment at the injustice wherewith she was treated,
+of love in recoil, and almost ran against the Broom-Squire. Almost
+without power to think, certainly without power to judge, fevered
+with passion to be away out of a house where she was so misjudged,
+she gasped, "Bideabout! will you have me now--even now. Mother
+turns me out of doors."
+
+"Have you? To be sure I will," said Jonas; then with a laugh out
+of the side of his mouth, he added in an undertone, "Don't seem to
+want that I should set a net; she runs right into my hands. Wimen
+is wimen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+A SURNAME AT LAST.
+
+
+When Simon Verstage learned that Mehetabel was to be married to
+the Broom-Squire, he was not lightly troubled. He loved the girl
+more dearly than he was himself aware. He was accustomed to see
+her about the house, to hear her cheerful voice, and to be welcomed
+with a pleasant smile when he returned from the fields. There was
+constitutional ungraciousness in his wife. She considered it
+lowering to her dignity, or unnecessary, to put on an amiable face,
+and testify to him pleasure at his presence. Little courtesies are
+dear to the hearts of the most rugged men; Simon received them
+from Mehetabel, and valued them all the more because withheld
+from him by his wife. The girl had known how to soothe him when
+ruffled, she had forestalled many of his little requirements, and
+had exercised a moderating influence in the house. Mrs. Verstage,
+in her rough, imperious fashion, had not humored him, and many a
+domestic storm was allayed by the tact of Mehetabel.
+
+Simon had never been demonstrative in his affection, and it was
+only now, when he was about to lose her, that he became aware how
+dear she was to his old heart. But what could he do, now that she
+had given herself to Jonas Kink? Of the manner in which this had
+been brought about he knew nothing. Had he been told he would
+have stormed, and insisted on the engagement coming to an end. But
+would this have mended matters? Would it not have made Mehetabel's
+position in the house only more insupportable?
+
+He remained silent and depressed for a week, and when the girl
+was in the room followed her with his eyes, with a kindly,
+regretful light in them. When she passed near him, he held out
+his hand, took hers, squeezed it, and said, "Matabel, we shall
+miss you:--wun'erful--wun'erful!"
+
+"Dear father!" she would answer, and return the pressure of his
+hand, whilst her eyes filled.
+
+"I hope you'll be happy," he would say; then add, "I suppose you
+will. Mother says so, and wimen knows about them sort o' things
+better nor we."
+
+To his wife Simon said, "Spare nothing. Give her a good outfit,
+just as if she was our own daughter. She has been a faithful
+child, and has saved us the expense and worrit of a servant,
+and I will not have it said--but hang it! what odds to me what
+is said? I will not have her feel that we begrudge her aught.
+She has no father and mother other than we, and we must be to
+her all that we can."
+
+"Leave that to me," said the wife.
+
+Mainly through the instrumentality of Mrs. Verstage the marriage
+was hastened on; it was to be as soon as the banns had been called
+thrice.
+
+"Wot's the good o' waitin'?" asked Mrs. Verstage, "where all is
+pleasant all round, and all agreed?"
+
+Mehetabel was indifferent, even disposed to have the wedding
+speedily, there was no advantage in postponing the inevitable. If
+she were not wanted in the Ship, her presence was desired in the
+Punch-Bowl, if not by all the squatters there, at all events by
+the one most concerned.
+
+She felt oppression in the house in which she had been at home
+from infancy, and was even conscious that her adopted mother was
+impatient to be rid of her. Mehetabel was proud, too proud to
+withdraw from her engagement, to acknowledge that she had rushed
+into it without consideration, and had accepted a man whom she
+did not love. Too proud, in fine, to continue one day longer
+than need be, eating the bread of charity.
+
+Seamstresses were summoned, and every preparation made that
+Mehetabel should have abundance of clothing when she left the Ship.
+
+"Look here, Susanna," said Simon, "you'll have made a pocket in
+them gownds, you mind."
+
+"Yes, Simon, of course."
+
+"Becos I means to put a little purse in for Matabel when she
+goes from us--somethin' to be her own. I won't have the little
+wench think we han't provided for her."
+
+"How much?" asked Mrs. Verstage, jealously.
+
+"That I'm just about considerin'," answered the old man cautiously.
+
+"Don't you do nothin' reckless and unraysonable, Simon. What will
+she want wi' money? Hasn't she got the Broom-Squire to pay for
+all and everything?"
+
+During the three weeks that intervened between the precipitate
+and ill-considered engagement and the marriage, Mehetabel hardly
+came to her senses. Sometimes when occupied with her work in the
+house a qualm of horror came over her and curdled the blood in her
+heart; then with a cold sweat suffusing her brow, and with pale
+lips, she sank on a stool, held her head between her palms, and
+fought with the thoughts that rose like spectres, and with the
+despair that rolled in on her soul like a dark and icy tide. The
+words spoken by the hostess had made it impossible for her to
+retrace her steps. She could not understand what had come over
+Mrs. Verstage to induce her to address her as she had. The after
+conduct of the hostess was such as showed her that although wishing
+her well she wished her away, and that though having a kindly
+feeling towards her, she would not admit a renewal of former
+relations. They might continue friends, but only on condition of
+being friends at a distance. Mehetabel racked her brain to find in
+what manner she had given offence to the old woman, and could find
+none. She was thrust from the only bosom to which she had clung
+from infancy, without a reason that she could discover. Meanwhile
+she drew no nearer to Bideabout. He was delighted at his success,
+and laid aside for a while his bitterness of speech. But she did
+not admit him to nearer intimacy. His attempts at familiarity met
+with a chilling reception; the girl had to exercise self-restraint
+to prevent the repugnance with which she received his addresses
+from becoming obvious to him and others.
+
+Happily for her peace of mind, he was a good deal away, engaged in
+getting his house into order. It needed clearing out, cleansing
+and repairing. No money had been expended on dilapidations, very
+little soap and water on purification, since his mother's death.
+
+His sister, Mrs. Rocliffe, some years older than himself, living
+but a few yards distant, had done for him what was absolutely
+necessary, and what he had been unable to do for himself; but
+her interest had naturally been in her own house, not in his.
+
+Now that he announced to her that he was about to marry, Sarah
+Rocliffe was angry. She had made up her mind that Jonas would
+continue a "hudger," and that his house and land would fall to
+her son, after his demise. This was perhaps an unreasonable
+expectation, especially as her own conduct had precipitated the
+engagement; but it was natural. She partook of the surly disposition
+of her brother. She could not exist without somebody or something
+to fall out with, to scold, to find fault with. Her incessant
+recrimination had at length aroused in Jonas the resolve to cast
+her wholly from his dwelling, to have a wife of his own, and to
+be independent of her service.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe ascertained that she had overstepped the mark in
+quarrelling with her brother, but instead of blaming herself she
+turned the fault on the head of the inoffensive girl who was to
+supplant her. She resolved not to welcome her sister-in-law with
+even a semblance of cordiality.
+
+Nor were the other colonists of the Bowl favorably disposed. It
+was a tradition among them that they should inter-marry. This
+rule had once been broken through with disastrous results. The
+story shall be told presently.
+
+The squatter families of the Punch-Bowl hung together, and when
+Sarah Rocliffe took it in dudgeon that her brother was going to
+marry, then the entire colony of Rocliffes, Boxalls, Nashes, and
+Snellings adopted her view of the case, and resented the engagement
+as though it were a slight cast on them.
+
+As if the Bowl could not have provided him with a mate meet for
+him! Were there no good wenches to be found there, that he must
+go over the lips to look for a wife? The girls within the Bowl,
+thanks be, had all surnames and kindred. Matabel had neither.
+
+It was not long before Bideabout saw that his engagement to
+Mehetabel was viewed with disfavor by him immediate neighbors,
+but he was not the man to concern himself about their opinions.
+He threw about his jibes, which did not tend to make things
+better. The boys in the Bowl had concocted a jingle which they
+sang under his window, or cast at him from behind a hedge, and
+then ran away lest he should fall on them with a stick. This was
+their rhyme:--
+
+  "A harnet lived in an 'ollow tree,
+   A proper spiteful twoad were he.
+   And he said as married and 'appy he'd be;
+   But all folks jeered and laughed he-he!"
+
+Mehetabel's cheeks were pale, and her brows were contracted and
+her lips set as she went to Thursley Church on the wedding-day,
+accompanied by Mrs. Verstage and some village friends.
+
+Gladly would she have elected to have her marriage performed as
+quietly as possible, and at an hour and on a day to which none
+were privy save those most immediately concerned. But this
+did not suit the pride of the hostess, who was resolved on making
+a demonstration, of getting to herself the credit of having acted
+a generous and even lavish part towards the adopted child.
+
+Mehetabel held up her head, not with pride, but with resolution
+not to give way. Her brain was stunned. Thought would no more
+flow in it than veins of water through a frozen soil. All the
+shapes of human beings that passed and circled around her were
+as phantasms. In church she hardly gathered her senses to know
+when and what to respond.
+
+She could scarcely see the register through the mist that had
+formed over her eyes when she was required to sign her Christian
+name, or collect her thoughts to understand the perplexity of the
+parson, as to how to enter her, when she was without a surname.
+
+When congratulated with effusion by Mrs. Verstage, with courtesy
+by the Vicar, and boisterously by the boys and girls who were
+present, she tried to force a smile, but ineffectually, as her
+features were set inflexibly.
+
+The bridegroom kissed her cheek. She drew back as if she had been
+stung, as a sensitive plant shrinks from the hand that grasps it.
+
+The previous day had been one of rain, so also had been the night,
+with a patter of raindrops on the roof above Mehetabel's attic
+chamber, and a flow of tears beneath.
+
+During the morning, on the way to church, though there had been
+no rain, yet the clouds had hung low, and were threatening.
+
+They separated and were brushed aside as the wedding party issued
+from the porch, and then a flood of scorching sunlight fell over
+the bride and bridegroom. For the first time Mehetabel raised her
+head and looked up. The impulse was unconscious--it was to let
+light shine into her eyes and down into the dark, despairing
+chambers of her soul filled only with tears.
+
+The villagers in the churchyard murmured admiration; as she issued
+from the gates they cheered.
+
+Bideabout was elate; he was proud to know that the handsomest girl
+in the neighborhood was now his. It was rare for a sarcastic curl
+to leave his lips and the furrow to be smoothed on his brow. Such
+a rare occasion was the present. And the Broom-Squire had indeed
+secured one in whom his pride was justifiable.
+
+No one could say of Mehetabel that she had been frivolous and
+forward. Reserved, even in a tavern: always able to maintain her
+dignity; respecting herself, she had enforced respect from others.
+That she was hard-working, shrewd, thrifty, none who visited the
+Ship could fail to know.
+
+Many a lad had attempted to win her favor, and all had been
+repulsed. She could keep forward suitors at a distance without
+wounding their self-esteem, without making them bear her a grudge.
+She was tall, well-built and firmly knit. There was in her evidence
+of physical as well as of moral strength.
+
+Though young, Mehetabel seemed older than her years, so fully
+developed was her frame, so swelling her bosom, so set were her
+features.
+
+Usually the girl wore a high color, but of late this had faded
+out of her face, which had been left of an ashen hue. Her pallor,
+however, only gave greater effect to the lustre and profusion of
+her dark hair and to the size and to the velvet depth and softness
+of her hazel eyes.
+
+The girl had finely-moulded eyebrows, which, when she frowned
+through anger, or contracted them through care, met in one band,
+and gave a lowering expression to her massive brow.
+
+An urchin in the rear nudged a ploughboy, and said in a low tone,
+"Jim! The old harnet out o' the 'ollow tree be in luck to-day.
+Wot'll he do with her, now he's ketched a butterfly?"
+
+"Wot be he like to do?" retorted the bumpkin. "A proper spiteful
+twoad such as he--why, he'll rumple all the color and booty out
+o' her wings, and sting her till her blood runs pison."
+
+Then from the tower pealed the bells.
+
+Jonas pressed the arm of Mehetabel, and leering into her face,
+said: "Come, say a word o' thanks. Better late than never. At the
+last, through me, you've gotten a surname."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+UNEXPECTED.
+
+
+The wedding party was assembled at the Ship, which for this day
+concerned itself not with outsiders, but provided only for such as
+were invited to sit and drink, free of charge, to the health and
+happiness of bride and bridegroom.
+
+The invitation had been extended to the kinsfolk of Jonas in the
+Punch-Bowl, as a matter of course; but none had accepted, one had
+his farm, another his business, and a third could not go unless his
+wife let him.
+
+Consequently the bridegroom was badly supported. He was not the man
+to make friends, and such acquaintances of his as appeared did
+so, not out of friendship, but in expectation of eating and drinking
+at the landlord's table.
+
+This angered Jonas, who, in church, on looking around, had noticed
+that his own family had failed to attend, but that they should
+fail also at the feast was what surprised him.
+
+"It don't matter a rush," scoffed he in Mehetabel's ear, "we can
+get along without 'em, and if they won't come to eat roast duck
+and green peas, there are others who will and say 'Thank'y.'"
+
+The announcement of Jonas's engagement had been indeed too bitter
+a morsel for his sister to swallow. She resented his matrimonial
+project as a personal wrong, as a robbery committed on the Rocliffes.
+Her husband was not in good circumstances; in fact, the family
+had become involved through a marriage, to which allusion has
+already been made; and had not thereafter been able to recover
+from it.
+
+She had felt the pressure of debt, and the struggle for existence.
+It had eaten into her flesh like a canker, and had turned her
+heart into wormwood. In her pinched circumstances, even the pittance
+paid by her brother for doing his cooking and washing had been a
+consideration. This now was to be withdrawn.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe had set her ambition on the acquisition of her
+brother's estate, by which means alone, as far as she could see,
+would the family be enabled to shake off the incubus that oppressed
+it. Content in her own lifetime to drudge and moil, she would have
+gone on to the end, grumbling and fault-finding, indeed, but
+satisfied with the prospect that at some time in the future her
+son would inherit the adjoining farm and be lifted thereby out of
+the sorry position in which was his father, hampered on all sides,
+and without cheeriness.
+
+But this hope was now taken from her. Jonas was marrying a young
+and vigorous wife, and a family was certain to follow.
+
+The woman had not the command over herself to veil her feelings,
+and put on a semblance of good humor, not even the grace to put in
+an appearance at the wedding.
+
+The story must now be told which accounts for the embarrassed
+circumstances of the Rocliffe family.
+
+This shall be done by means of an extract from a periodical of the
+date of the event which clouded the hitherto flourishing condition
+of the Rocliffes. The periodical from which the quotation comes is
+"The Royal Magazine, or Gentleman's Monthly Companion" for 1765.
+
+"A few weeks ago a gentlewoman, about twenty-five years of age,
+applied to a farmer and broom-maker, near Hadleigh, in Hants [1] for
+a lodging, telling them that she was the daughter of a nobleman,
+and forced from her father's house by his ill-treatment. Her manner
+of relating the story so affected the farmer that he took her in,
+and kindly entertained her.
+
+"In the course of conversation, she artfully let drop that she
+had a portion of L90,000, of which she should be possessed as soon
+as her friends in London knew where she was.
+
+"After some days' stay she told the farmer the best return in her
+power for this favor would be to marry his son, Thomas (a lad
+about eighteen), if it was agreeable to him. The poor old man was
+overjoyed at the proposal, and in a short time they were married;
+after which she informed her father-in-law she had great, interest
+at Court, and if he could for the present raise money to equip
+them in a genteel manner, she could procure a colonel's commission
+for her husband.
+
+"The credulous farmer thereupon mortgaged his little estate for
+L100, and everything necessary being bought for the new married
+couple, they took the rest of the money and set out for London,
+accompanied by three of the farmer's friends, and got to the Bear
+Inn, in the Borough, on Christmas eve; where they lived for about
+ten days in an expensive manner; and she went in a coach every
+morning to St. James's end of the town, on pretence of soliciting
+for her husband's commission, and to obtain her own fortune. But
+it was at length discovered that the woman was an impostor; and
+the poor country people were obliged to sell their horses by
+auction towards defraying the expenses of the inn before they
+could set out on their return home, which they did on foot, last
+Saturday morning."
+
+If the hundred pounds raised on mortgage had covered all the
+expenses incurred, the Rocliffes might have been satisfied.
+
+Unhappily they got further involved. They fell into the hands of
+a lawyer in Portsmouth, who undertook to see them righted, but the
+only advantage they gained from his intervention was the acquisition
+of certain information that the woman who had married Thomas had
+been married before.
+
+Accordingly Thomas was free, and he used his freedom some years
+later, when of a ripe age, to marry Sarah Kink, the sister of
+Bideabout.
+
+Rocliffe had never been able to shake himself free of the ridicule
+that attended to him, after the expedition to London, and what
+was infinitely more vexatious and worse to endure was the burden
+of debt that had then been incurred, and which was more than
+doubled through the activity of the lawyer by whom he had been
+inveigled into submitting himself and his affairs to him.
+
+As the eating and drinking proceeded, the Broom-Squire drank
+copiously, became noisy, boastful, and threw out sarcastic remarks
+calculated to hit those who ate and drank with him, but were mainly
+directed against those of his own family who had absented themselves,
+but to whose ears he was confident they would be wafted.
+
+Mehetabel, who saw that he was imbibing more than he could bear
+without becoming quarrelsome lost her pallor, and a hectic flame
+kindled in her cheek.
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked on uneasily. She was familiar with the moods
+of Bideabout, and feared the turn matters would take.
+
+Presently he announced that he would sing a song, and in harsh
+tones began:--
+
+  "A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall,
+   But Charlotte, my nymph, had no lodging at all.
+   And at a Broom-Squire's, in pitiful plight,
+   Did pray and beseech for a lodging one night,
+                            Derry-down, derry-down.
+
+  "She asked for admittance, her story to tell.
+   Of all her misfortunes, and what her befel,
+   Of her parentage high,--but so great was her grief,
+   Shed never a comfort to give her relief,
+                            Derry-down, derry-down. [2]
+
+"Now, look here," said Simon Verstage, interrupting the singer,
+"We all of us know that there ballet, pretty well. It's vastly
+long, if I remembers aright, something like fourteen verses; and
+I think we can do very well wi'out it to-night. I fancy your
+brother-inlaw, Thomas, mightn't relish it."
+
+"He's not here," said the Broom-Squire.
+
+"But I am here," said the landlord, "and I say that the piece is
+too long for singing, 'twill make you too hoarse to say purty
+speeches and soft things to your new missus, and it's a bit stale
+for our ears."
+
+"It's an ill bird that befouls its own nest," said a young fellow
+present.
+
+Bideabout overheard the remark. "What do you mean by that? Was
+that aimed at me?" he shouted and started to his feet.
+
+A brawl would have inevitably ensued, but for a timely interruption.
+
+In the door stood a well-dressed, good-looking young man, surveying
+the assembled company with a smile.
+
+Silence ensued. Bideabout looked round.
+
+Then, with a cry of joy, mingled with pain, Mrs. Verstage started
+from her feet.
+
+"It is Iver! my Iver!"
+
+In another moment mother and son were locked in each other's arms.
+
+The guests rose and looked questioningly at their host, before
+they welcomed the intruder.
+
+Simon Verstage remained seated, with his glass in his hand, gazing
+sternly into it. His face became mottled, red spots appeared on
+the temples, and on the cheekbones; elsewhere he was pale.
+
+Mehetabel went to him, placed her hand upon his, and said, in a
+trembling voice, "Dear father, this is my wedding day. I am about
+to leave you for good. Do not deny me the one and only request I
+make. Forgive Iver."
+
+The old man's lips moved, but he did not speak. He looked steadily,
+somewhat sternly, at the young man and mustered his appearance.
+
+Meanwhile Iver had disengaged himself from his mother's embrace,
+and he came towards his father with extended hand.
+
+"See," said he cheerily, "I am free to admit, and do it heartily,
+that I did wrong, in painting over the stern of the vessel, and
+putting it into perspective as far as my lights went. Father! I
+can remove the coat of paint that I put on, and expose that
+outrageous old stern again. I will do more. I will violate all
+the laws of perspective in heaven and earth, and turn the bows
+round also, so as to thoroughly show the ship's head, and make
+that precious vessel look like a dog curling itself up for a nap.
+Will that satisfy you?"
+
+All the guests were silent, and fixed their eyes anxiously on the
+taverner.
+
+Iver was frank in speech, had lost all provincial dialect, was
+quite the gentleman. He had put off the rustic air entirely. He
+was grown a very handsome fellow, with oval face, full hair on his
+head, somewhat curling, and his large brown eyes were sparkling
+with pleasure at being again at home. In his whole bearing there
+was self-confidence.
+
+"Simon!" pleaded Mrs. Verstage, with tears in her voice, "he's
+your own flesh and blood!"
+
+He remained unmoved.
+
+"Father!" said Mehetabel, clinging to his hand, "Dear, dear
+father! for my sake, whom you have loved, and whom you lose out
+of your house to-day."
+
+"There is my hand," said the old man.
+
+"And you shall have the ship again just as suits your heart,"
+said Iver.
+
+"I doubt," answered the taverner, "it will be easier to get the
+Old Ship to look what she ort, than it will be to get you to look
+again like a publican's son."
+
+The reconciliation on the old man's side was without cordiality,
+yet it was accepted by all present with cheers and handshakings.
+
+It was but too obvious that the modish appearance of his son had
+offended the old man.
+
+"Heaven bless me!" exclaimed Iver, when this commotion was somewhat
+allayed. He was looking with undisguised admiration and surprise
+at Mehetabel.
+
+"Why," asked he, pushing his way towards her, "What is the meaning
+of all this?"
+
+"That is Matabel, indeed," explained his mother. "And this is her
+wedding day."
+
+"You married! You, Matabel! And, to-day! The day of my return!
+Where is the happy man? Show him to me."
+
+His mother indicated the bridegroom. Mehetabel's heart was too
+full to speak; she was too dazed with the new turn of affairs to
+know what to do.
+
+Iver looked steadily at Jonas.
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, "Bideabout! Never, surely! I cannot mistake
+your face nor the look of your eyes. So, you have won the
+prize--you!"
+
+Still he looked at Jonas. He refrained from extending his hand in
+congratulation. Whether thoughtlessly or not, he put it behind his
+back. An expression passed over his face that the bride observed,
+and it sent the blood flying to her cheek and temples.
+
+"So," said Iver, and now he held out both hands, "Little Matabel,
+I have returned to lose you!"
+
+He wrung her hands, both,--he would not let them go.
+
+"I wish you all joy. I wish you everything, everything that your
+heart can desire. But I am surprised. I can't realize it all at
+once. My little Matabel grown so big, become so handsome--and,
+hang me, leaving the Old Ship! Poor Old Ship! Bideabout, I ought
+to have been consulted. I gave Matabel her name. I have certain
+rights over her, and I won't surrender them all in a hurry. Here,
+mother, give me a glass, 'tis a strange day on which I come home."
+
+Dissatisfaction appeared in his face, hardly to be expected in one
+who should have been in cloudless radiance on his return after
+years of absence, and with his quarrel with the father at an end.
+
+Now old acquaintances crowded about him to ask questions as to how
+he had lived during his absence, upon what he had been employed,
+how the world had fared with him, whether he was married, and if
+so, how many children he had got, and what were their respective
+ages and sexes, and names and statures.
+
+For a while bride and bridegroom were outside the circle, and
+Iver was the centre of interest and regard. Iver responded
+good-humoredly and pleaded for patience. He was hungry, he was
+thirsty, he was dusty and hot. He must postpone personal details
+till a more convenient season. Now his mind was taken up with the
+thought, not of himself, but of his old playmate, his almost
+sister, his--he might dare to call her, first love--who was
+stepping out of the house, out of his reach, just as he stepped
+back into it, strong with the anticipation of finding her there.
+Then raising his glass, and looking at Matabel, he said: "Here's
+to you, Matabel, and may you be very happy with the man of your
+choice."
+
+"Have you no good wish for me?" sneered the Broom-Squire.
+
+"For you, Bideabout," answered Iver, "I do not express a wish. I
+know for certainty that you, that any man, not may, but must be
+happy with such a girl, unless he be a cur."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HOME.
+
+
+Bideabout was driving his wife home.
+
+Home! There is no word sweeter to him who has created that reality
+to which the name belongs; but there is no word more full of vague
+fears to one who has it to create.
+
+Home to Bideabout was a rattle-trap farmhouse built partly of
+brick, mainly of timber, thatched with heather, at the bottom of
+the Punch-Bowl.
+
+It was a dwelling that served to cover his head, but was without
+pleasant or painful associations--a place in which rats raced and
+mice squeaked; a place in which money might be made and hoarded,
+but on which little had been spent. It was a place he had known
+from childhood as the habitation of his parents, and which now was
+his own. His childhood had been one of drudgery without cheerfulness,
+and was not looked back on with regret. Home was not likely to be
+much more to him in the future than it was in the present. More
+comfortable perhaps, certainly more costly. But it was other with
+Mehetabel.
+
+She was going to the unknown.
+
+As we shudder at the prospect of passing out of this world into
+that beyond the veil, so does many a girl shrink at the prospect
+of the beyond seen through the wedding ring.
+
+She had loved the home at the Ship. Would she learn to love the
+home in the Punch-Bowl?
+
+She had understood and made allowance for the humors of the
+landlord and landlady of the tavern; did she know those of her
+future associate in the farm? To many a maid, the great love that
+swells her heart and dazzles her brain carries her into the new
+condition on the wings of hope.
+
+Love banishes fear. Confidence in the beloved blots out all mistrust
+as to the future.
+
+But in this case there was no love, nothing to inspire confidence;
+and Mehetabel looked forward with vague alarm, almost with a
+premonition of evil.
+
+Jonas was in no mood for meditation. He had imbibed freely at the
+inn, and was heavy, disposed to sleep, and only prevented from
+dozing by the necessity he was under of keeping the lazy cob in
+movement.
+
+For if Jonas was in no meditative mood, the old horse was, and he
+halted at intervals to ponder over the load he was drawing, and
+ask why on this occasion he had to drag uphill two persons instead
+of one.
+
+The sun had set before the couple left the Ship.
+
+The road ascended, at first gradually, then at a more rapid incline.
+The cob could not be induced to trot by word or whip; and the walk
+of a horse is slower than that of a man.
+
+"It's bostall (a steep ascent, in the Wealden dialect) till we
+come to the gallows," muttered Jonas; "then we have the drove-road
+down into the Punch-Bowl."
+
+Mehetabel tightened her shawl about her shoulders and throat. The
+evening was chilly for the time of the year. Much rain had fallen,
+and the air was charged with moisture, that settled in cold dew on
+the cart, on the harness, on Bideabout's glazed hat, on the bride's
+clothing, bathing her, all things, as in the tears of silent sorrow.
+
+"One of us must get out and walk," said the bridegroom. "Old
+Clutch--that's the 'oss--is twenty-five, and there's your box and
+bundle behind."
+
+He made no attempt to dismount, but looked sideways at the bride.
+
+"If you'll pull up I'll get out and walk," she answered. "I shall
+be glad to do so. The dew falls like rain, and I am chilled to the
+marrow."
+
+"Right then," assented the Broom-Squire, and drew the rein.
+
+Mehetabel descended from her seat in the cart. In so doing
+something fell on the road from her bosom. She stooped and picked
+it up.
+
+"Wots that?" asked Jonas, and pointed to the article with his
+whip, that was flourished with a favor of white ribbons.
+
+"It is a present father has made me," answered Mehetabel. "I was
+in a hurry--and not accustomed to pockets, so I just put it into
+my bosom. I ought to have set it in a safer place, in the new
+pocket made to my gown. I'll do that now. Its money."
+
+"Money!" repeated Bideabout. "How much may it be?"
+
+"I have not looked."
+
+"Then look at it, once now (at once)."
+
+He switched the whip with its white favor about, but kept his eye
+on Mehetabel.
+
+"What did he give it you for?"
+
+"As a wedding present."
+
+"Gold, is it?"
+
+"Gold and notes."
+
+"Gold and notes. Hand 'em to me. I can count fast enough."
+
+"The sum is fifteen pounds--dear, kind, old man."
+
+"Fifteen pounds, is it? You might ha' lost it wi' your carelessness."
+
+"I'll not be careless now."
+
+"Good, hand it me."
+
+"I cannot do that, Jonas. It is mine. Father said to me I was to
+keep it gainst a rainy day."
+
+"Didn't you swear in church to endow me with all your worldly
+goods?" asked the Broom-Squire.
+
+"No, it was you who did that. I then had nothing."
+
+"Oh, was it so? I don't remember that. If you'd had them fifteen
+pounds then, and the passon had knowed about it, he'd ha' made you
+swear to hand it over to me--your lord and master."
+
+"There's nothing about that in the Prayer-book."
+
+"Then there ort to be. Hand me the money. You was nigh on losing
+the lot, and ain't fit to keep it. Fifteen pounds!"
+
+"I cannot give it to you, Bideabout; father told me it was to be
+my very own, I was not to let it go out of my hands, not even into
+yours, but to husband it."
+
+"Ain't I your husband?"
+
+"I do not mean that, to hoard it against an evil day. There is no
+saying when that may come. And I passed my word it should be so."
+
+He growled and said, "Look here, Matabel. It'll be a bostall road
+with you an' me, unless there's give on one side and take on the
+other."
+
+"Is all the give to be on my side, and the take on yours?"
+
+"In coorse. Wot else is matrimony? The sooner you learn that the
+better for peace."
+
+He whipped the cob, and the brute moved on.
+
+Mehetabel walked forward and outstripped the conveyance. Old Clutch
+was a specially slow walker. She soon reached that point at which
+moorland began, without hedge on either side. Trees had ceased to
+stud the heathy surface.
+
+Before her rose the ridge that culminated where rose the gallows,
+and stood inky black against the silvery light of declining day
+behind them.
+
+To the north, in the plain gleamed some ponds.
+
+Curlew were piping sadly.
+
+Mehetabel was immersed in her own thoughts, glad to be by herself.
+Jonas had not said much to her in the cart, yet his presence had
+been irksome. She thought of the past, of her childhood along with
+Iver, of the day when he ran away. How handsome he had become! What
+an expression of contempt had passed over his countenance when he
+looked at Bideabout, and learned that he was the bridegroom--the
+happy man who had won her! How earnestly he had gazed into her
+eyes, till she was compelled to lower them!
+
+Was Iver going to settle at the Ship? Would he come over to the
+Punch-Bowl to see her? Would he come often and talk over happy
+childish days? There had been a little romance between them as
+children: long forgotten: now reviving.
+
+Her hand trembled as she raised it to her lips to wipe away the
+dew that had formed there.
+
+She had reached the highest point on the road, and below yawned
+the great crater-like depression, at the bottom of which lay the
+squatter settlement. A little higher, at the very summit of the
+hill, stood the gibbet, and the wind made the chains clank as it
+trifled with them. The bodies were gone, they had mouldered away,
+and the bones had fallen and were laid in the earth or sand beneath,
+but the gallows remained.
+
+Clink! clink! clank! Clank! clink! clink!
+
+There was rhythm and music, as of far-away bells, in the clashing
+of these chains.
+
+The gibbet was on Mehetabel's left hand; on the right was the abyss.
+
+She looked down into the cauldron, turning with disgust from the
+gallows, and yet was inspired with an almost equal repugnance at
+the sight of the dark void below.
+
+She was standing on the very spot where, eighteen years before,
+she had been found by Iver. He had taken her up, and had given her
+a name. Now she was taken up by another, and by him a new name
+was conferred upon her.
+
+"Come!" said Jonas; "it's all downhill, henceforth."
+
+Were the words ominous?
+
+He had arrived near her without her hearing him, so occupied had
+her mind been. As he spoke she uttered a cry of alarm.
+
+"Afraid?" he asked. "Of what?"
+
+She did not answer. She was trembling. Perhaps her nerves had
+been overwrought. The Punch-Bowl looked to her like the Bottomless
+Pit.
+
+"Did you think one of the dead men had got up from under the
+gallows, and had come down to talk with you?"
+
+She did not speak. She could not.
+
+"It's all a pass'l o' nonsense," he said. "When the dead be turned
+into dust they never come again except as pertaties or the like.
+There was Tim Wingerlee growed won'erful fine strawberries; they
+found out at last he took the soil in which he growed 'em from
+the churchyard. I don't doubt a few shovelfuls from under them
+gallows 'ud bring on early pertaties--famous. Now then, get up
+into the cart."
+
+"I'd rather walk, Jonas. The way down seems critical. It is dark
+in the Bowl, and the ruts are deep."
+
+"Get up, I say. There is no occasion to be afraid. It won't do
+to drive among our folk, to our own door, me alone, and you
+trudgin', totterin' behind. Get up, I say."
+
+Mehetabel obeyed.
+
+There was a fragrance of fern in the night air that she had inhaled
+while walking. Now by the side of Bideabout she smelt only the
+beer and stale tobacco that adhered to his clothes.
+
+"I am main glad," said he, "that all the hustle-bustle is over.
+I'm glad I'm not wed every day. Fust and last time I hopes. The
+only good got as I can see, is a meal and drink at the landlord's
+expense. But he'll take it out of me someways, sometime. Folks
+ain't liberal for nuthin'. 'Tain't in human nature."
+
+"It is very dark in the Punch-Bowl," said Mehetabel. "I do not see
+a glimmer of a light anywhere."
+
+"That's becos the winders ain't looking this way. You don't suppose
+it would be a pleasure to have three dead men danglin' in the wind
+afore their eyes all day long. The winders look downward, or else
+there's a fold of the hill or trees between. But I know where
+every house is wi'out seeing 'em. There's the Nashes', there's
+the Boxalls', there's the Snellings', there's my brother-in-law's,
+Thomas Rocliffe's, and down there be I."
+
+He pointed with his whip. Mehetabel could distinguish nothing
+beyond the white favor bound to his whip.
+
+"We're drivin to Paradise," said Jonas. And as to this remark she
+made no response, he explained--"Married life, you know."
+
+She said nothing.
+
+"It rather looks as if we were going down to the other place," he
+observed, with a sarcastic laugh. "But there it is, one or the
+other--all depends on you. It's just as you make it; as likely to
+be one as the other. Give me that fifteen pounds--and Paradise is
+the word."
+
+"Indeed, Jonas, do you not understand that I cannot go against
+father's will and my word?"
+
+The road, or rather track, descended along the steep side of the
+Punch-Bowl, notched into the sand falling away rapidly on the left
+hand, on which side sat Mehetabel.
+
+At first she had distinguished nothing below in the blackness, but
+now something like a dead man's eye looked out of it, and seemed
+to follow and observe her.
+
+"What is that yonder?" she asked.
+
+"Wot is wot?" he asked in reply.
+
+"That pale white light--that round thing glimmerin' yonder?"
+
+"There's water below," was his explanation of the phenomenon.
+
+In fact that which had attracted her attention and somewhat alarmed
+her, was one of the patches of water formed in the marshy bottom
+of the Punch-Bowl by the water that oozes forth in many springs
+from under the sandstone.
+
+The track now passed under trees.
+
+A glimpse of dull orange light, and old Clutch halted, unbidden.
+
+"Here we be, we two," said Jonas. "This is home. And Paradise, if
+you will."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+NOT PARADISE.
+
+
+At the moment that the cart halted, a black dog burst out of the
+house door, and flew at Mehetabel as she attempted to descend.
+
+"Ha, Tartar!" laughed Jonas. "The rascal seems to know his reign
+is over. Go back, Tartar. I'll thrash you till the favor off my
+whip is beat into your hide, if you don't be quiet. Hitherto he
+has guarded my house, when I have been from home. Now that will
+be your duty, Matabel. Can't keep a wife and a dog. 'Twould be
+too extravagant. Tartar! Down! This is your mistress--till I get
+rid of you."
+
+The dog withdrew reluctantly, continuing to growl and to show his
+fangs at Mehetabel.
+
+In the doorway stood Sally Rocliffe, the sister of Jonas. Though
+not so openly resentful of the intrusion as was Tartar, she
+viewed the bride with ill-disguised bad humor; indeed, without an
+affectation of cordiality.
+
+"I thought you was never coming," was Sarah's salutation. "Goodness
+knows, I have enough to do in my own house, and for my own people,
+not to be kept dancin' all these hours in attendance, because
+others find time for makin' fools of themselves. Now, I hope I
+shall not be wanted longer. My man needs his meals as much as
+others, and if he don't get 'em reglar, who suffers but I? Dooty
+begins at home. You might have had more consideration, and come
+earlier, Jonas."
+
+The woman accorded to Mehetabel but a surly greeting. The young
+bride entered the house. A single tallow dip was burning on the
+table, with a long dock to it, unsnuffed. The hearth was cold.
+
+"I didn't light a fire," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "you see it wouldn't
+do. Now you have come as mistress, it's your place to light the
+fire on the hearth. I've heard tell it's unlucky for any other
+body to do it. Not as I knows." She shrugged her shoulders. It
+seemed that this was a mere excuse put forward to disguise her
+indolence, or to veil her malevolence.
+
+Mehetabel looked around her.
+
+There were no plates. There was nothing to eat prepared on the
+kitchen table. No cloth; nothing whatever there, save the guttering
+candle.
+
+"I didn't lay out nuthin'," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "you see, how was
+I to say you'd want vittles? I suppose you have had as much as is
+good for you away where you come from--at the Ship. If you are
+hungry--there's cold rabbit pie in the larder, if it ain't gone
+bad. This weather has been bad for keepin' meat. There's bread in
+the larder, if you don't mind the rats and mice havin' been at it.
+That's not my fault. Jonas, he had some for his break'us, and
+never covered up the pan, so the varmin have got to it. There's
+ale, too, in a barrel, I know, but Jonas keeps the key to that
+lest I should take a sup. He begrudges me that, and expects me
+to work for him like a galley-slave."
+
+Then the woman was silent, looking moodily down. The floor was
+strewn with flakes of whitewash as though snow had fallen over it.
+
+"You see," said Mrs. Rocliffe, "Jonas would go to the expense of
+whitenin' the ceilin', just because you was comin.' It had done
+plenty well for father and mother, and I don't mind any time it
+were whitened afore, and I be some years the elder of Jonas. The
+ceiling was that greasy wi' smoke, that the whitewashin' as it
+dried 'as pealed off, and came down just about. You look up--the
+ceilin' is ten times worse than afore. It looks as if it were
+measly. I wouldn't sweep up the flakes as fell off just to let
+Jonas see what comes of his foolishness. I told him it would be so,
+but he wouldn't believe me, and now let him see for himself--there
+it is."
+
+With a sort of malignant delight the woman observed Mehetabel, and
+saw how troubled and unhappy she was.
+
+Again a stillness ensued. Mehetabel could hear her heart beat. She
+could hear no other sound. She looked through the room towards
+the clock. It was silent.
+
+"Ah, now there," said Sarah Rocliffe. "There be that, to be sure.
+Runned down is the weight. It wasn't proper for me now to wind up
+the clock. As you be the new mistress in the house, it is your
+place and dooty. I suppose you know that."
+
+Then from without Mehetabel heard the grunts of the sow in the
+stye that adjoined the house, and imparted an undesirable flavor
+to the atmosphere in it.
+
+"That's the sow in the pen," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "she's wantin'
+her meat. She hain't been galliwantin', and marryin', and bein'
+given in marriage. I'm not the mistress, and I've not the dooty to
+provide randans and crammins for other folks' hogs. She'll be goin'
+back in her flesh unless fed pretty smart. You'd best do that at
+once, but not in your weddin' dress. You must get acquainted
+together, and the sooner the better. She's regular rampagous wi'
+hunger."
+
+"Would you help me in with my box, Mrs. Rocliffe?" asked Mehetabel.
+"Jonas set it down by the door, and if I can get that upstairs I'll
+change my dress at once, and make the fire, clean the floor, wind
+up the clock, and feed the hog."
+
+"I've such a terrible crick in my back, I dussn't do it," answered
+Sarah Rocliffe. "Why, how much does that there box weigh? I wonder
+Jonas had the face to put it in the cart, and expect Clutch to draw
+it. Clutch didn't like it now, did he?"
+
+"But how can I get my box in and carried up? Jonas is with the
+horse, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he is minding the horse. Clutch must be made comfortable,
+and given his hay. I'll be bound you and Jonas have been eatin'
+and drinkin' all day, and never given Clutch a mouthful, nor washed
+his teeth with a pail o' water."
+
+"I'm sure Joe Filmer looked to the horse at the Ship. He is very
+attentive to beasts."
+
+"On ordinary days, and when nuthin' is goin' on, I dare say--not
+when there's weddin's and ducks and green peas goin' for any who
+axes for 'em."
+
+The report that ducks and green peas were to form an element of
+the entertainment had been told everywhere before the day of the
+marriage, and it was bitterness to Mrs. Rocliffe to think that
+"on principle," as she put it, she had been debarred from eating
+her share.
+
+"Ducks and green peas!" repeated she. "I s'pose you don't reckon on
+eating that every day here, no, nor on Sundays, no, not even at
+Christmas. 'Taint such as we in the Punch-Bowl as can stuff
+ourselves on ducks and green peas. Green peas and ducks we may
+grow--but we sells 'em to the quality."
+
+After some consideration Mrs. Rocliffe relented sufficiently to
+say, "I don't know but what Samuel may be idlin'; he mostly is.
+I'll go and send my son Samuel to help you with the box."
+
+Then with a surly "Good-night" the woman withdrew.
+
+After a couple of minutes, she returned: "I've come back," she
+said, "to tell you that if old Clutch is off his meat--and I
+shouldn't wonder if he was--wi' neglect and wi' drawing such a
+weight--then you'd best set to work and make him gruel. Jonas
+can't afford to lose old Clutch, just becos he's got a wife." Then
+she departed again.
+
+Jonas was indeed in the stable attending to the horse. He had,
+moreover, to run the cart under shelter. Mehetabel put out a
+trembling hand to snuff the candle. Her hand was so unsteady that
+she extinguished the light. Where to find the tinder box she knew
+not. She felt for a bench, and in the darkness when she had reached
+it, sank on it, and burst into tears.
+
+Such was the welcome to her new home.
+
+For some time she sat with as little light in her heart as there
+was without.
+
+She felt some relief in giving way to her surcharged heart. She
+sobbed and knitted her fingers together, unknitted them, and wove
+them together again in convulsions of distress--of despair.
+
+What expectation of happiness had she here? She was accustomed at
+the Ship to have everything about her neat and in good order. The
+mere look round that she had given to the room, the principal room
+of the house she had entered, showed how ramshackle it was. To
+some minds it is essential that there should be propriety, as
+essential as that the food they consume should be wholesome, the
+water they drink should be pure. They can no more accommodate
+themselves to disorder than they can to running on hands and feet
+like apes.
+
+It was quite true that this house would be given up to Mehetabel
+to do with it what she liked. But would her husband care to have
+it other than it was? Would he not resent her attempts to alter
+everything?
+
+And for what purpose would she strive and toil if he disapproved of
+her changes?
+
+She had no confidence that in temper, in character, in mind, he and
+she would agree, or agree to differ. She knew that he was grasping
+after money, that he commended no man, but had a disparaging word
+for every one, and envy of all who were prosperous. She had seen
+in him no sign of generosity of feeling, no spark of honor. No
+positive evil was said of him; if he were inclined to drink he was
+not a drunkard; if he stirred up strife in himself he was not
+quarrelsome. He over-reached in a bargain, but never did anything
+actually dishonest. He was not credited with any lightness in his
+moral conduct towards any village maid. That he was frugal, keen
+witted, was about all the good that was said, and that could be
+said of him. If he had won no one's love hitherto, was it likely
+that there was anything lovable in him? Would he secure the
+affections of his wife?
+
+Thoughts rose and fell, tossed and broke in Mehetabel's brain; her
+tears fell freely, and as she was alone in the house she was able
+to sob without restraint.
+
+Jonas had chained up Tartar, and the dog was howling. The pig
+grunted impatiently. A rat raced across the floor. Cockroaches came
+out in the darkness and stirred, making a strange rustling like
+the pattering of fine rain.
+
+Mehetabel could hear the voice of her husband in the yard. He was
+thrusting the cart under a roof. He would be in the house shortly,
+and she did not wish that he should find her in tears, that he
+should learn how weak, how hopeless she was.
+
+She put her hand into her pocket for a kerchief, and drew forth
+one, with which she staunched the flow from her eyes, and dried
+her cheeks. She put her knuckle to her lips to stay their quivering.
+Then, when she had recovered some composure, she drew a long sigh
+and replaced the sodden kerchief in her pocket.
+
+At that moment she started, sprang to her feet, searched her pocket
+in the darkness with tremulous alarm, with sickness at her heart.
+
+Then, not finding what she wanted, she stooped and groped along
+the floor, and found nothing save the flakes of fallen whitewash.
+
+She stood up panting, and put her hand to her heart. Then Jonas
+entered with a lantern, and saw her as she thus stood, one hand
+to her brow, thrusting back the hair, the other to her heart; he
+was surprised, raised his lantern to throw the light on her face,
+and said:--"Wot's up?"
+
+"I have been robbed! My fifteen pounds have been taken from me."
+
+"Well I--"
+
+"Jonas!" she said, "I know it was you. It was you who robbed me,
+where those men robbed my father. Just as I got into the cart you
+robbed me."
+
+He lowered the lantern.
+
+"Look here, Matabel, mind wot I said. In matrimony it's all give
+and take, and if there ain't give on one side, then there's take,
+take on the t'other. I ain't going to have this no Paradise if I
+can help it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+IVER.
+
+
+Next day was bright; but already some rime lay in the cold and
+marshy bottom of the Punch-Bowl.
+
+Mehetabel went round the farm with Bideabout, and with some pride
+he showed her his possessions, his fields, his barn, sheds and
+outhouses. Amongst these was that into which she had been taken
+on the night of her father's murder.
+
+She had often heard the story from Iver. She knew how that every
+door had been shut against her except that of the shed in which
+the heather and broom steels were kept that belonged to Jonas, and
+which served as his workshop.
+
+With a strange sense, as though she were in the hands of Fate
+thrusting her on, she knew not whither, with remorseless cogency,
+the young wife looked into the dark shed which had received her
+eighteen years before.
+
+It was wonderful that she should have begun the first chapter of
+her life there, and that she should return to the same spot to
+open the second chapter.
+
+She felt relieved when Jonas left her to herself. Then she at
+once set to work on the house, in which there was much to be done.
+She was ambitious to get it into order and comfort before Mrs.
+Verstage came to visit her in her new quarters.
+
+As she worked, her mind reverted to the Ship. Would she be missed
+there? Would the new maid engaged be as active and attentive as
+she had been? Her place in the hearts of the old couple was now
+occupied by Iver. However much the innkeeper might pretend to be
+hard of reconciliation, yet he must yearn after his own son; he must
+be proud of him now that Iver was grown so fine and independent,
+and had carved for himself a place in the world.
+
+When the first feeling of regret over her departure was passed
+away, then all their thoughts, their aspirations, their pride
+would be engrossed by Iver.
+
+Mehetabel was scouring a saucepan. She lowered it, and her hands
+remained inactive. Iver!--she saw him, as he stood before her in
+the Ship, extending his hands to her. She almost felt his grasp
+again.
+
+Mehetabel brushed back the hair that had fallen over her face; and
+as she did so a tear ran down her cheek.
+
+Then she heard her husband's voice; he was speaking with Samuel
+Rocliffe, his nephew; and it struck her as never before, how
+harsh, how querulous was his intonation.
+
+During the day, Mrs. Rocliffe came in, looked about inquisitively,
+and pursed up her lips when she saw the change effected, and
+conjectured that more was likely to follow.
+
+"I suppose nuthin' is good enough as it was--but you must put
+everything upside down?"
+
+"On the contrary, I am setting on its feet everything I have
+found topsy-turvy."
+
+To the great surprise of all, on the following Sunday, Bideabout,
+in his best suit, accompanied Mehetabel to church. He had never
+been a church-goer. He begrudged having to pay tithes. He begrudged
+having to pay something for his seat in addition to tithes to the
+church, if he went to a dissenting chapel. If religious ministrations
+weren't voluntary and gratuitous, "then," said Jonas, "he didn't
+think nuthin' of 'em."
+
+Jonas had been disposed to scoff at religion, and to work on
+Sundays, though not so openly as on other days of the week. He
+went to church now because he was proud of his wife; not out of
+devotion, but vanity.
+
+Some days later arrived a little tax-cart driven by Iver, with
+Mrs. Verstage in it.
+
+The hostess had already discovered what a difference it made in
+her establishment to have in it a raw and dull-headed maid in
+the room of the experienced and intelligent daughter. She did
+not regret what she had done--she had removed Mehetabel out of
+the reach of Iver, and had no longer any anxiety as to the disposal
+of his property by Simon. For her own sake she was sorry, as she
+plainly saw that her life was likely to run less smoothly in the
+future in her kitchen and with her guests. Now that Mehetabel was
+no longer dangerous, her heart unfolded towards her once more.
+
+The young wife received Mrs. Verstage with pleasure. The flush
+came into her cheeks when she saw her, and for the moment she had
+no eyes, no thoughts, no welcome for Iver.
+
+The landlady was not so active as of old, and she had to be assisted
+from her seat. As soon as she reached the ground she was locked in
+the embrace of her daughter by adoption.
+
+Then Mehetabel conducted the old woman over the house, and showed
+her the new arrangements she had made, and consulted her on certain
+projected alterations.
+
+Jonas had come to the door when the vehicle arrived; he was in his
+most gracious mood, and saluted first the hostess and then her
+son, with unwonted cordiality.
+
+"Come now, Matabel," said Mrs. Verstage, when both she and the
+young wife were alone together, "I did well to push this on, eh?
+You have a decent house, and a good farm. All yours, not rented,
+so none can turn you out. What more could you desire? I dare be
+sworn Bideabout has got a pretty nest egg stuck away somewhere,
+up the chimney or under the hearth. Has he shown you what he has?
+There was the elder Gilly Cheel was a terrible skinflint. When he
+died his sons hunted high and low for his money and couldn't find
+it. And just as they wos goin' to bury him, the nuss said she
+couldn't make a bootiful corpse of him, he were that puffed in
+his mouth. What do you think, Matabel? The old chap had stuffed
+his money into his mouth when he knew he was dyin'. Didn't want
+nobody to have it but himself. Don't you let Bideabout try any
+of them games."
+
+"Have you missed me greatly, dear mother?" asked Mehetabel, who
+had heard the story of Giles Cheel before.
+
+Mrs. Verstage sighed.
+
+"My dear, do you know the iron-stone bowl as belonged to my
+mother. The girl broke it, and hadn't the honesty to say so, but
+stuck it together wi' yaller soap, and thought I wouldn't see it.
+Then one of the customers made her laugh, and she let seven
+pewters fall, and they be battered outrageous. And she has been
+chuckin' the heel taps to the hog, and made him as drunk as a
+Christian. She'll drive me out of my seven senses."
+
+"So you do miss me, mother?"
+
+"My dear--no--I'm not selfish. It is all for your good. There wos
+Martha Lintott was goin' to a dance, and dropped her bustle. Patty
+Pickett picked it up, and thinkin' she couldn't have too much of
+a good thing, clapped it on a top of her own and cut a fine figure
+wi' it--wonderful. And Martha looked curious all up and down wi'out
+one. But she took it reasonable, and said, 'What's one woman's loss
+is another woman's gain.' O, my dear life! If Iver would but settle
+with Polly Colpus I should die content."
+
+"Is not the match agreed to yet?"
+
+"No!" Mrs. Verstage sighed. "I've got my boy back, but not for
+long. He talks of remaining here awhile to paint--subjects, he
+calls 'em, but he don't rise to Polly as I should like. Polly is
+a good girl. Master Colpus was at your weddin', and was very civil
+to Iver. I heard him invite the boy to come over and look in on
+him some evening--Sunday, for instance, and have a bite of supper
+and a glass. But Iver hasn't been nigh the Colpuses yet; and when
+I press him to go he shrugs his shoulders and says he has other
+and better friends he must visit first."
+
+Mrs. Verstage sighed again.
+
+"Well, perhaps he doesn't fancy Polly," said Mehetabel.
+
+"Why should he not fancy her? She will have five hundred pounds,
+and old James Colpus's land adjoins ours. I don't understand
+Iver's ways at all."
+
+Mehetabel laughed. "Dear mother, you cannot expect that; he did
+not think with his father's head when a boy. He will think only
+with his own head now he is a man."
+
+"Look here, Matabel. I'll leave Iver to you for half-an-hour. Show
+him the cows. I'll make Bideabout take me to his sister. I want to
+have it out with her for not coming to the wedding. I'm not the
+person to let these things pass. Say a word to Iver about Polly,
+there is a dear. I cannot bring them together, but you may, you
+are so clever."
+
+Meanwhile Iver and Jonas had been in conversation. The latter had
+been somewhat contemptuous about the profession of an artist, and
+was not a little astonished when he heard the prices realized by
+pictures. Iver told the Broom-Squire that he intended making some
+paintings of the Punch-Bowl, and that he had a mind to draw Kink's
+farm.
+
+In that case, said Bideabout, a percentage of the money such a
+picture fetched would be due to him. He didn't see that anyone had
+a right to take a portrait of his house and not pay him for it. If
+Iver were content to draw his house, he must, on no account, include
+that of the Rocliffes, for there was a mortgage on that, and there
+might be trouble with the lawyers.
+
+Mrs. Verstage proposed to Bideabout that she should go with him
+to his sister's house, and he consented.
+
+"Look here, Matabel," said he, "there is Mister Iver thinks he can
+make a pictur' of the spring, if you'll get a pitcher and stand
+by it. I dare say if it sells, he'll not forget us."
+
+"I wish I could take Mehetabel and her pitcher off your hands, and
+not merely the portrait of both," laughed Iver, to cover the
+confusion of the girl, who reddened with annoyance at the grasping
+meanness of Jonas.
+
+When Iver was alone with her, as they were on their way to the
+spring, he said, "Come, this will not do at all. For the first time
+we are free to chat together, as in the old times when we were
+inseparable friends. Why are you shy now, Matabel?"
+
+"You must be glad to be home again with the dear father and
+mother," she said.
+
+"Yes, but I miss you; and I had so reckoned on finding you there."
+
+"You will remain at the Ship now," urged she.
+
+"I don't know that. I have my profession. I have leisure during
+part of the summer and fall, making studies for pictures--but I
+take pupils; they pay."
+
+"You must consider the old folk."
+
+"I do. I will visit them occasionally. But art is a mistress, and
+an imperious one. When one is married one is no longer independent."
+
+"You are married?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, to my art."
+
+"Oh! to paints and brushes! Tell me true, Iver! Has no girl won
+your heart whilst you have been from home?"
+
+"I have found many to admire, but my heart is free. I have had no
+time to think of girls' faces--save as studies. Art is a mistress
+as jealous as she is exacting."
+
+Mehetabel drew a long breath. There went up a flash of light in
+her mind, for which she did not attempt to account. "You are
+free--that is famous, and can take Polly Colpus."
+
+Then she laughed, and Iver laughed.
+
+They laughed long and merrily together.
+
+"This is too much," exclaimed Iver. "At home father is at me to
+exchange the mahl-stick for an ox-goad, and mother wearies me with
+laudation of Polly Colpus. I shall revolt and run away, as I did
+not expect you to lend a hand with Polly."
+
+"You must not run away," said Mehetabel, earnestly. "Iver! I was
+all those years at the Ship, with mother, after you went, and I
+have seen how her heart has ached for you. She is growing old.
+Let her have consolation during the years that remain for the
+sorrow of those that are past."
+
+"I cannot take to farming, nor turn publican, and I will not
+have Polly Colpus."
+
+"Here is the spring," said Mehetabel.
+
+She set the pitcher beside the water, leaned back in the hedge,
+musing, with her finger to her chin, her eyes on the ground, and
+her feet crossed.
+
+"Stand as you are. That is perfect. Do not stir. I will make a
+pencil sketch."
+
+The spring gushed from under a bank, in a clear and copious jet.
+It had washed away the sand, and had buried itself in a nook
+among ferns and moss. On the top of the bank was a rude shed, open
+at the side, with a cart at rest in it. Wild parsnips in full
+flower nodded before the water.
+
+"I could desire nothing better," said Iver, "and that pale blue
+skirt of yours, the white stockings, the red kerchief round your
+head--in color as in arrangement everything is admirable."
+
+"You have not your paints with you."
+
+"I will come another day and bring them. Now I will only sketch
+in the outline."
+
+Presently Iver laughed. "Matabel! If I took Polly she would be of
+no use to me whatever, not even as a model."
+
+Presently the Broom-Squire returned with Mrs. Verstage, and looked
+over the shoulder of the artist.
+
+"Not done much," he said.
+
+"I shall have to come again and yet again, to put in the color,"
+said Iver.
+
+"Come when and as often as you like," said Bideabout. Neither of
+the men noticed the shrinking that affected the entire frame of
+Mehetabel, as Jonas said these words, but it was observed by Mrs.
+Verstage, and a shade of anxiety swept over her face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AGAIN-IVER.
+
+
+A few days after this first visit, Iver was again at the Kinks'
+farm.
+
+The weather was fine, and he protested that he must take advantage
+of it to proceed with his picture.
+
+Mehetabel was reluctant to stand. She made excuses that were at
+once put aside.
+
+"If you manage to sell pictures of our place," said Bideabout, "our
+Punch-Bowl may get a name, and folk come here picnicking from
+Godalming and Guildford and Portsmouth; and I'll put up a board with
+Refreshments--Moderate, over the door, and Matabel shall make tea
+or sell cake, and pick up a trifle towards; housekeeping."
+
+A month was elapsed since Mehetabel's marriage, the month of honey
+to most--one of empty comb without sweetness to her. She had drawn
+no nearer to her husband than before. They had no interests, no
+tastes in common. They saw all objects through a different medium.
+
+It was not a matter of concern to Mehetabel that she was left
+much alone by Jonas, and that her sister-in-law and the rest of
+the squatters treated her as an interloper.
+
+As a child, at the Ship, without associates of her own age, after
+Iver's departure, she had lived much to herself, and now her soul
+craved for solitude. And yet, when she was alone the thoughts of
+her heart troubled her.
+
+Jonas was attached, in his fashion, to his beautiful wife; he
+joked, and was effusive in his expressions of affection. But she
+did not respond to his jokes, and his demonstrations of affection
+repelled her. Jonas was too dull, or vain, to perceive this, and
+he attributed her coldness to modesty, real or affected, probably
+the latter.
+
+Mehetabel shrank from looking full in the face, the thought that
+she must spend the rest of her life with this man. She was well
+aware that she could not love him, could hardly bring herself to
+like him, the utmost she could hope was that she might arrive at
+enduring him.
+
+Whilst in this condition of unrest and discouragement, Iver
+appeared, and his presence lit up the desolation in which she was.
+The sight of him, the sound of his voice, aroused old recollections,
+helped to drive away the shadows that environed her, and that
+clouded her mind. There was no harm in this, and yet she was
+uneasy. Cheerful as she was when he was present, there was
+something feverish in this cheerfulness, and it left her more
+unhappy than before when he was gone, and more conscious of the
+impossibility of accommodating herself to her lot.
+
+The visit on one fine day was followed by another when the rain
+fell heavily.
+
+Iver entered the house, shook his wet hat and cloak, and with a
+laugh, exclaimed--
+
+"Here I am--to continue the picture."
+
+"In such weather?"
+
+"Little woman! When I started the wind was in the right quarter.
+All at once it veered round and gave me a drenching. What odds?
+You can stand at the window, and I can proceed with the figure.
+It was tedious at the Ship. Between you and me and the post, I
+cannot get along with the fellows who come there to drink. You
+are the only person in Thursley with whom I can talk and be happy."
+
+"Bideabout is not at home."
+
+"I didn't come through the rain to see Bideabout, but you."
+
+"Will you have anything to eat or drink?"
+
+"Anything that you can give me. But I did not come for that. To
+tell the truth, I don't think I'll venture on the picture. The
+light is so bad. It is of no consequence. We can converse. I am
+sick of public-house talk. I ran away to be with you. We are old
+chums, are we not, dear Matabel?"
+
+A fire of peat was on the hearth. She threw on skin-turf that flamed
+up.
+
+Iver was damp. His hands were clammy. His hair ends dripped. His
+face was running with water. He spread his palms over the flame,
+and smiled.
+
+"And so you were tired of being at home?" she said, as she put the
+turves together.
+
+"Home is no home to me, now you are gone," was his answer.
+
+Then, after a pause, during which he chafed his hands over the
+dancing flame, he added: "I wish you were back in the old Ship. The
+old Ship! It is no longer the dear old Ship of my recollections,
+now that you have deserted. Why did you leave? It is strange to me
+that my mother did not write and tell me that you were going to be
+married. If she had done that--"
+
+He continued drying his hands, looking dreamily into the flame,
+and left the sentence incomplete.
+
+"It is queer altogether," he pursued. "When I told her I was at
+Guildford, and proposed returning, she put me off, till my father
+was better prepared. She would break the news to him, see how--he
+took it, and so on. I waited, heard no more, so came unsummoned,
+for I was impatient at the delay. She knew I wished to hear about
+you, Mattee, dear old friend and playmate. I asked in my letters
+about you. You know you ceased to write, and mother labored at the
+pen herself, finally. She answered that you were well--nothing
+further. Why did she not tell me of your engagement? Have you any
+idea, Matabel?"
+
+She bowed over the turf, to hide her fate, but the leaping flame
+revealed the color that mantled cheek, and throat, and brow. Her
+heart was beating furiously.
+
+"That marriage seems to me to have been cobbled up precious
+quickly. Were you so mighty impatient to have the Broom-Squire
+that you could not wait till you were twenty? A girl of eighteen
+does not know her own mind. A pretty kettle of fish there will be
+if you discover, when too late, that you have made a mistake, and
+married the wrong man, who can never make you happy."
+
+Mehetabel started upright, and went with heaving bosom to the
+window, then drew back in surprise, for she saw the face of Mrs.
+Rocliffe at the pane, her nose applied to and flattened against
+the glass, and looking like a dab of putty.
+
+She was offended at the woman's inquisitiveness, and went to the
+door to inquire if she needed anything.
+
+"Nuthin' at all," answered Sarah, with a laugh, "except to see
+whether my brother was home. It's early days beginning this, I call
+it."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nuthin'."
+
+"Iver is here," said Mehetabel, controlling herself. "Will you
+please to come in?"
+
+"But Jonas is not, is he?"
+
+"No; he has gone to Squire Mellers about a load of stable-brooms."
+
+"I wouldn't come in on no account," said Mrs. Rocliffe. "Two's
+company, three's none," and she turned and departed.
+
+After she had shut the door Mehetabel went hastily through the
+kitchen into the scullery at the back. Her face was crimson, and
+she trembled in all her joints.
+
+Iver called to her; she answered hastily that she was engaged, and
+presently, after she had put bread and cake and butter on the
+table, she fled to her own room upstairs, seated herself on a
+chair, and hid her burning face in her apron.
+
+The voice of her husband below afforded sensible relief to her in
+her mortification. He was speaking with Iver; cursing the weather
+and his bad luck. His long tramp in the rain had been to no
+purpose. The Squire, to whose house he had been, was out. She
+washed her face, combed and smoothed her hair, and slowly descended
+the stairs.
+
+On seeing her Jonas launched forth in complaints, and showed
+himself to be in an evil temper. He must have ale, not wish-wash
+tea, fit only for old women. He would not stuff himself with cake
+like a school child. He must have ham fried for him at once.
+
+He was in an irritable mood, and found fault with his wife about
+trifles, or threw out sarcastic remarks that wounded, and made
+Iver boil with indignation. Jonas did not seem to bear the young
+artist a grudge; he was, in fact, pleased to see him, and proposed
+to him to stay the evening and have a game of cards.
+
+It was distressing to Mehetabel to be rebuked in public, but she
+made no rejoinder. Jonas had seized on the opportunity to let his
+visitor see that he was not tied to his wife's apron string, but
+was absolute master in his own house. The blood mounted to Iver's
+brow, and he clenched his hands under the table.
+
+To relieve the irksomeness of the situation Iver proceeded to undo
+a case of his colored sketches that he had brought with him.
+
+These water-colors were charming in their style, a style much
+affected at that period; the tints were stippled in, and every
+detail given with minute fidelity. The revolution in favor of
+blottesque had not yet set in, and the period was happily far
+removed from that of the impressionist, who veils his incapacity
+under a term--an impression, and calls a daub a picture. Nature
+never daubs, never strains after effects. She is painstaking,
+delicate in her work, and reticent.
+
+Whilst Mehetabel was engaged frying ham, Iver showed his drawings
+to the Broom-Squire, who treated them without perception of their
+beauty, and valued them solely as merchandise. But when supper was
+ready, and whilst Jonas was eating, he had a more interested and
+appreciative observer in Mehetabel, to whom the drawings afforded
+unfeigned pleasure. In her delight she sat close to Iver; her warm
+breath played over his cheek, as he held up the sketches to the
+light, and pointed out the details of interest.
+
+Once when these were minute, and she had to look closely to observe
+them, in the poor light afforded by the candle, without thinking
+what he was about, Iver put his hand on her neck. She started, and
+he withdrew it. The action was unobserved by Bideabout, who was
+engrossed in his rasher.
+
+When Jonas had finished his meal, he thrust his plate away,
+produced a pack of cards, and said--
+
+"Here, Mr. Iver, are pictures worth all of yours. Will you come
+and try your luck or skill against me? We'll have a sup of brandy
+together. Matabel, bring glasses and hot-water."
+
+Iver went to the door and looked out. The rain descended in
+streams; so he returned to the table, drew up his chair and took
+a hand.
+
+When Mehetabel had washed the plates and dishes used at the meal,
+she seated herself where she could see by the candle-light, took
+up her needlework, and was prepared to snuff the wick as was
+required.
+
+Iver found that he could not fix his attention on the game.
+Whenever Mehetabel raised her hand for the snuffers, he made a
+movement to forestall her, then sometimes their eyes met, and she
+lowered hers in confusion.
+
+The artistic nature of Iver took pleasure in the beautiful; and
+the features, coloring, grace of the young Broom-Squiress, were
+such as pleased him and engaged his attention. He made no attempt
+to analyze his feelings towards her. He was not one to probe his
+own heart, nor had he the resolution to break away from temptation,
+even when recognized as such. Easy-going, good-natured, impulsive,
+with a spice of his mother's selfishness in his nature, he allowed
+himself to follow his inclinations without consideration whither
+they might lead him, and how they might affect others.
+
+Iver's eyes, thoughts, were distracted from the game. He lost
+money--five shillings, and Jonas urged him to play for higher
+stakes.
+
+Then Mehetabel laid her needlework in her lap, and said--
+
+"No, Iver, do not. You have played sufficiently, and have lost
+enough. Go home."
+
+Jonas swore at her.
+
+"What is that to you? We may amuse ourselves without your meddling.
+What odds to you if he loses, so long as I win. I am your husband
+and not he."
+
+But Iver rose, and laughingly said:--
+
+"Better go home with a wet jacket than with all the money run out
+of my pocket. Good-night, Bideabout."
+
+"Have another shot?"
+
+"Not another."
+
+"She put you up to this," with a spiteful glance at Mehetabel.
+
+"Not a bit, Jonas. Don't you think a chap feels he's losing blood,
+without being told he is getting white about the gills."
+
+The Broom-Squire sulkily began to gather up the cards.
+
+"What sort of a night is it, Mehetabel? Go to the door and see,"
+said he.
+
+The girl rose and opened the door.
+
+Without, the night was black as pitch, and in the light that
+issued the raindrops glittered as they fell. In the trees, in
+the bushes, on the grass, was the rustle of descending rain.
+
+"By Jove, it's worse than ever," said Iver: "lend me a lantern, or
+I shall never reach home."
+
+"I haven't one to spare," replied Bideabout; "the hogs and calves
+must be tended, and the horse, Old Clutch, littered down. Best way
+that you have another game with me, and you shall stay the night.
+We have a spare room and bed."
+
+"I accept with readiness," said Iver.
+
+"Go--get all ready, Matabel. Now, then! you cut, I deal."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+DREAMS.
+
+
+Iver remained the night in the little farm-house. He thought
+nothing as he lay in bed of the additional shillings he had lost
+to Jonas, but of the inestimable loss he had sustained in Mehetabel.
+
+The old childish liking he had entertained for her revived. It did
+more than revive, it acquired strength and heat. As a boy he had
+felt some pride and self-consequence because of the child whom he
+had introduced into the Christian Church, and to whom he had given
+a name. Now he was elated to think that she was the most beautiful
+woman he had seen, and angry with the consciousness that she was
+snatched from him.
+
+Why had he not returned to Thursley a day, half a day, earlier?
+Why had Fate played such a cruel game with him? What a man this
+Jonas Kink was who had won the prize. Was he worthy of it? Did he
+value Mehetabel as he should? A fellow who could not perceive
+beauty in a landscape and see the art in his drawings was not
+one to know that his wife was lovely, or if he knew it did so in
+a stupid, unappreciative manner. Did he treat Mehetabel kindly;
+with ordinary civility? Iver remembered the rebukes, the slights
+put on her in his own presence.
+
+Iver's bedroom was neat, everything in it clean. The bed was one of
+those great tented four-posters which were at the time much
+affected in Surrey, composed of covering and curtains of striped--or
+pranked--cotton, blue and white. Mehetabel, in the short while she
+had been in the Punch-Bowl, had put the spare room in order. She
+had found it used as a place for lumber, every article of furniture
+deep in dust, and every curtain rent. The corners of the room had
+been given over for twenty years as the happy hunting-ground of
+spiders. Although Bideabout had taken some pains to put his house
+in order before his marriage, repairs had been executed only on
+what was necessary, and in a parsimonious spirit. The spare room had
+been passed over, as not likely to be needed. To that as to every
+other portion of the house, Mehetabel had turned her attention,
+and it was now in as good condition to receive a guest as the
+bedrooms in the Ship Inn.
+
+Presently Iver went to sleep, lulled by the patter of the rain on
+the roof, on the leaves, and the sobbing of the moist wind through
+the ill-adjusted casement.
+
+As he slept he had a dream.
+
+He thought that he heard Thursley Church bells ringing. He believed
+he had been to church to be married. He was in his holiday attire,
+and was holding his bride by the hand. He turned about to see who
+was his partner, and recognized Mehetabel. She was in white, but
+whiter than her dress and veil was her bloodless face, and her
+dark brows and hair marked it as with mourning.
+
+There was this strange element in his dream, that he could not
+leave the churchyard.
+
+He endeavored to follow the path to the gate, outside which the
+villagers were awaiting them with flowers and ready to cheer; but
+he was unable to reach it. The path winded in and out among the
+gravestones, and round and round the church, till at length it
+reached the tomb of the murdered sailor.
+
+All the while the ringers were endeavoring to give the young bridal
+pair a merry peal, and failed. The ropes slid from their hands,
+and only the sexton succeeded in securing one, and with that he
+tolled. Distinctly Iver saw the familiar carving of the three
+murderers robbing and killing their victim. He had often laughed
+over the bad drawing of the figures--he laughed now, in sleep.
+
+Then he thought that he heard Mehetabel reproach him for having
+returned, to be her woe. And that between each sentence she sobbed.
+
+Thereupon he again looked at her.
+
+She was beautiful, more beautiful than ever--a beauty sublimated,
+rendered almost transparent. As he looked she became paler, and
+the hand he held grew colder. Now ensued a strange phenomenon.
+
+She was sinking. Her feet disappeared in the spongy turf that
+oozed with water after the long rain. Her large dark eyes were
+fixed on him entreatingly, reproachfully.
+
+Then she was enveloped to her knees, and as she went down, the
+stain of the wet grass and the soil of the graveyard clay rose an
+inch up her pure white garment.
+
+She held his hand tenaciously, as the only thing to which she
+could cling to save her from being wholly engulfed.
+
+Then she was swallowed up to her waist, and he became aware that
+if he continued to clasp her hand, she would drag him under the
+earth. In his dream he reasoned with her. He pointed out to her
+that it was impossible for him to be of any service to her, and
+that he was jeopardizing his own self, unless he disengaged himself
+from her.
+
+He endeavored to release his hand. She clung the more obstinately,
+her fingers were deadly cold and numbed him, yet he was resolute
+in self-defence, and finally freed his hand. Then she sank more
+rapidly, with despair in the upturned face. He tried to escape
+her eyes, he could not. It was a satisfaction to him when the rank
+grass closed over them and got between the lips that were opened
+in appeal for help. Then ensued a gulp. The earth had swallowed
+her up, and in dream, he was running for his pallet and canvas to
+make a study of the spot where she had sunk, in a peculiarly
+favorable light. He woke, shivering, and saw that the gray morning
+was looking in at his window between the white curtains.
+
+His hand, that had felt so chill, was out of the bed, and the
+coverlet had slid off him, and was heaped on the floor.
+
+The wind had shifted, and now pressed the clouds together, rolled
+them up and swept them into the lumber-house of clouds below the
+horizon. He dressed leisurely, shook himself, to shake off the
+impression produced by his dream, and laughed at himself for
+having been disturbed by it.
+
+When he came downstairs he found that both Mehetabel and Jonas
+were already on their feet, and that the former was preparing
+breakfast. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
+
+"How did you sleep?" she asked, with faint smile--"and what were
+your dreams?"
+
+"They say that the first dream in new quarters comes true," threw
+in the Broom-Squire; "but this is the idle chatter of old wives.
+I make no count of it."
+
+Mehetabel observed that Iver started and seemed disconcerted at
+this question relative to his dream. He evaded an answer, and she
+saw that the topic was unpleasant, and to reply inconvenient. She
+said no more; and Jonas had other matters to think about more
+substantial than dreams. Yet Mehetabel could not fail to perceive
+that their guest was out of tune. Was he annoyed at having lost
+money, or was he in reality troubled by something that had occurred
+during the night? An hour later Iver prepared to leave.
+
+"Come with me a little way," he pleaded with the hostess, "see me
+safe off the premises."
+
+She did as was desired, though not without inner reluctance. And
+yet, at the same time she felt that with his departure a something
+would be gone that could not be replaced, a light out of her sky,
+a strain of music out of her soul.
+
+The white fog lay like curd at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. Here
+and there a tree-top stood above the vapor, but only as a bosky
+islet in the surface of mist, dense and chill. The smoke from the
+chimneys of the squatter houses rose like steaming springs, but
+the brick chimneys were submerged. So dense was the fog that it
+muffled all sound, impeded the breath, struck cold to the marrow.
+It smelt, for the savors of hog-pen and cow-stall were caught and
+not allowed to dissipate.
+
+A step, and those ascending the side of the great basin were out
+of the mist, and in sunshine, but it still held their feet to the
+knees; another step and they were clear, and then their shadows
+were cast, gigantic, upon the white surface below, and about each
+head was a halo of light and rainbow tints.
+
+Every bush was twinkling as hung with diamonds of the purest
+water. Larks were trilling, pouring forth in song the ecstasy
+that swelled their hearts. The sky was blue as a nemophyla, and
+cloudless.
+
+As soon as Iver and Mehetabel had issued from the fog and were
+upon the heath, and in the sunshine, she stayed her feet.
+
+"I will go no further," she said.
+
+"Look," said he, "how the fog lies below at the bottom of the
+Punch-Bowl, as though it were snow. Above, on the downs all is
+sunshine."
+
+"Yes, you go up into the light and warmth," answered she. "I must
+back and down into the cold vapors, cold as death."
+
+He thought of his dream. There was despondency in her tone.
+
+"The sun will pierce and scatter the vapors and shine over and
+warm you below."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Iver," she said, "you may tell me now we are alone. What was
+your dream?"
+
+Again he appeared disconcerted.
+
+"Of what, of whom did you dream?"
+
+"Of whom else could I dream but you--when under your roof," said
+he with a laugh.
+
+"Oh, Iver! and what did you dream about me?"
+
+"Arrant nonsense. Dreams go by contraries."
+
+"Then what about me?"
+
+"I dreamt of your marriage."
+
+"Then that means death."
+
+He caught her to him, and kissed her lips.
+
+"We are brother and sister," he said, in self-exculpation. "Where
+is the harm?"
+
+She disengaged herself hastily.
+
+She heard a cough and looked round, to see the mocking face of
+Sarah Rocliffe, who had followed and had just emerged from the
+curdling fog below.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+REALITIES.
+
+
+Iver was gone.
+
+The light that had sparkled in Mehetabel's eyes, the flush, like
+a carnation in her cheek, faded at once. She was uneasy that Mrs.
+Rocliffe had surprised her and Iver, whilst he gave her that
+ill-considered though innocent parting salute.
+
+What mischief she might make of it! How she might sow suspicion of
+her in the heart of Jonas, and Iver would be denied the house!
+Iver denied the house! Then she would see him no more, have no
+more pleasant conversations with him. Indeed, then the cold,
+clammy fog into which she descended was a figure of the life hers
+would be, and it was one that no sun's rays could dissipate.
+
+After she had returned to the house she sank in a dark comer
+like one weary after hard labor, and looked dreamily before her
+at the floor. Her hands and her feet were motionless.
+
+A smile that every moment became more bitter sat on her lips. The
+muscles of her face became more rigid.
+
+What if through jealousy, open discord broke out between her and
+Jonas? Would it make her condition more miserable, her outlook
+more desperate? She revolved in thought the events that were past.
+She ranged them in their order--the proposal of Jonas, her refusal,
+the humiliation to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Verstage
+which had driven her to accept the man she had just rejected, the
+precipitation with which the marriage had been hurried on, then
+the appearance of Iver on her wedding day.
+
+She recalled the look that passed over his face when informed that
+she was a bride, the clasp of his hands, and now--now--his kiss
+burned on her lips, nay, had sunk in as a drop of liquid fire, and
+was consuming her heart with anguish and sweetness combined.
+
+Was the kiss that of a brother to a sister? Was there in it, as
+Iver said, no harm, no danger to herself? She thought of the journey
+home from the Ship on her wedding evening, of the fifteen pounds of
+which she had been robbed by her husband, the money given her by
+"father" against the evil day. She had been deceived, defrauded by
+the man she had sworn to honor, love, and obey. She had not
+acquired love for him. Had he not by this act forfeited all claim
+to both love and honor?
+
+She thought again of Iver, of his brown, agate-like eyes, but eyes
+in which there was none of the hardness of a stone. She contrasted
+him with Jonas. How mean, how despicable, how narrow in mind and
+in heart was the latter compared with the companion of her youth.
+
+Mehetabel's face was bathed in perspiration. She slid to her knees
+to pray; she folded her hands, and found herself repeating.
+"Genesis, fifty chapters; Exodus, forty; Leviticus, twenty-seven;
+Numbers, thirty-six; Deuteronomy, thirty-four; these are the books
+that constitute the Pentateuch. The Book of Joshua--"
+
+Then she checked herself. In her distress, her necessity, she
+was repeating the lesson last acquired in Sunday-school, which
+had gained her a prize. This was not prayer. It brought her no
+consolation, it afforded her no strength. She tried to find
+something to which to cling, to stay her from the despair into
+which she had slipped, and could only clearly figure to herself
+that "the country of the Gergesenes lay to the southeast of the
+Sea of Tiberias and that a shekel weighed ten hundred-weights and
+ninety-two grains, Troy weight, equal to in avoirdupois--" her brain
+whirled. She could not work out the sum. She could not pray. She
+could recall no prayer. She could look to nothing beyond the
+country of the Gergesenes. And yet, never in her life had she so
+needed prayer, strength, as now, when this new guilty passion
+was waking in her heart.
+
+Shuddering at the thought of revolt against her duty, unable
+altogether to abandon the hope, the longing to see Iver again,
+filled with vague terror of what the future might bring forth,
+she remained as struck with paralysis, kneeling, speechless, with
+head bowed, hands fallen at her side, seeing, hearing, knowing
+nothing; and was roused with a start by the voice of Jonas who
+entered, and asked--,
+
+"Wot's up now?"
+
+She could not answer him. She sprang to her feet and eagerly
+flew to the execution of her domestic duties.
+
+Iver returned from his visit to the Punch-Bowl with a mind occupied
+and ill at ease.
+
+He had allowed himself, without a struggle, to give way to the
+impression produced on him by the beauty of Mehetabel. He enjoyed
+her society--found pleasure in talking of the past. Her mind was
+fresh; she was intelligent, and receptive of new ideas. She alone
+of all the people of Thursley, whom he had encountered, was
+endowed with artistic sense--was able to set the ideal above what
+was material. He did not ask himself whether he loved her. He knew
+that he did, but the knowledge did not trouble him. After a
+fashion, Mehetabel belonged to him as to none other. She was
+associated with his earliest and sunniest recollections.
+
+Mehetabel could sympathize with him in his love for the beautiful
+in Nature. She had ever been linked with his mother in love for
+him. She had been the vehicle of communication between him and his
+mother till almost the last moment; it was through her that all
+tidings of home had reached him.
+
+When his father had refused to allow Iver's name to be mentioned
+in his presence, for hours daily the thoughts of him had been in
+the hearts of his mother and this girl. With united pity and love,
+they had followed his struggles to make his way.
+
+There was much obstinacy in Iver.
+
+Resolution to have his own way had made him leave home to follow
+an artistic career, regardless of the heartache he would cause
+his mother, and the resentment he would breed in his father.
+
+Thus, without consideration of the consequences to himself, to
+Mehetabel, to Jonas, he allowed his glowing affection for the
+young wife to gather heat, without attempt to master or extinguish
+it.
+
+There is a certain careless happiness in the artistic soul that
+is satisfied with the present, and does not look into the future.
+The enjoyment of the hour, the banquet off the decked table, the
+crown of roses freshly blown, suffice the artist's soul. It has no
+prevision of the morrow--makes no provision for the winter.
+
+That the marriage of Mehetabel with Jonas had raised barriers
+between them was hardly considered. That the Broom-Squire might
+resent having him hover round his young flower, did not enter
+into Iver's calculations; least of all did it concern him that
+he was breaking the girl's heart, and forever making it impossible
+for her to reconcile herself to her position.
+
+As Iver walked home over the common, and enjoyed the warmth and
+brilliancy of the sun, he asked himself again, why his mother
+had not prepared him for the marriage of Mehetabel.
+
+Mehetabel had certainly not taken Jonas because she loved him.
+She was above sordid considerations. What, then, had induced her
+to take the man? She had been happy and contented at the Ship;
+why, then, did she leave it?
+
+On reaching home, he put the question to his mother. "It is a
+puzzle to me, which I cannot unravel, why has Matabel become
+Bideabout's wife?"
+
+"Why should she not?" asked his mother in return. "It was a catch
+for such as she--a girl without a name, and bare of a dower. She
+has every reason to thank me for having pushed the marriage on."
+
+Iver looked at his mother with surprise.
+
+"Then you had something to do with it?"
+
+"Of course I had," answered she. "I did my duty. I am not so young
+as I was. I had to think for Matabel's future. She is no child of
+mine. She can expect nothing from your father nor from me. When a
+good offer came, then I told her to accept and be thankful. She
+is a good girl, and has been useful in the house, and some people
+think her handsome. But young men don't court a girl who has no
+name, and has had three men hanged because of her."
+
+"Mother! what nonsense! The men were executed because they murdered
+her father."
+
+"It is all one. She is marked with the gallows. Ill-luck attaches
+to her. There has been a blight on her from the beginning. I mind
+when her father chucked her down all among the fly-poison. Now she
+has got the Broom-Squire, she may count herself lucky, and thank
+me for it."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Iver. "Then this marriage is your doing?"
+
+"Yes--I told her that, before you came here, I must have her clear
+out of the house."
+
+"Why?"
+
+A silence ensued. Mrs. Verstage looked at her son--into his great,
+brown eyes--and what she saw there alarmed her. Her lips moved to
+speak, but she could utter no words. She had let out her motive
+without consideration in the frankness that was natural to her.
+
+"I ask, mother, why did you stop Matabel from writing, and take
+up the correspondence yourself at last; and then, when you did
+write to me at Guildford, you said not one word about Mehetabel
+being promised to the Broom-Squire?"
+
+"I could not put all the news of the parish into my letter. How
+should I know that this concerned you?"
+
+"We were together as children. If ever there were friends in the
+world, it was we."
+
+"I am a bad writer. It takes me five minutes over one word, just
+about. I said what I had to say, and no more, and I were a couple
+o' days over that."
+
+"Why did you ask me to postpone my coming home?--why seek to keep
+me away till after Mehetabel's marriage?"
+
+"There was a lot to do in the house, preparation for the weddin'--her
+gownds--I couldn't have you here whilst all the rout was on. I
+wanted to have you come when all was quiet again, and I could
+think of you. What wi' preparations and schemin' my head was full."
+
+"Was that the only reason, mother?"
+
+She did not answer. Her eyes fell.
+
+Iver threw his hat on the table, and went to his room. He was
+incensed against his mother. He guessed the reason why she had
+urged on the marriage, why she had kept him in ignorance of the
+engagement, why she had delayed his return to Thursley.
+
+She had made her plans. She wished to marry him to Polly Colpus,
+and she dreaded his association with Mehetabel as likely to be
+prejudicial to the success of her cherished scheme, now that the
+girl was in the ripeness of her beauty and to Iver invested with
+the halo of young associations, of boy romance.
+
+If his mother had told him! If she had not bidden him postpone his
+coming home! Then all would have turned out well. Mehetabel would
+not have been linked to an undesirable man, whom she could not
+love; and he would have been free to make her his own.
+
+His heart was bitter as wormwood.
+
+Mrs. Verstage saw but too plainly that her son was estranged from
+her; and she could form a rough estimate of the reason. He addressed
+her indeed with a semblance of love and showed her filial attention,
+but her maternal instinct assured her that something stood between
+them, something which took the reality and spontaneity out of his
+demonstrations of affection.
+
+Iver occupied himself with the picture of Mehetabel at the fountain.
+It was his great pleasure to work thereon. If he was not engaged at
+his canvas in the tavern, he was wandering in the direction of the
+Punch-Bowl to make studies for pictures, so he said. His mother
+saw that there was no prospect of retaining her son at the Ship
+for long. What held him there was not love for her, desire to
+recover lost ground with his father, not a clinging to his old
+home, not a desire to settle and take up his father's work; it
+was something else--she feared to give utterance to the thought
+haunting her mind.
+
+"You are a fool, old woman," said her husband to her one night.
+"You and I might have been easy and happy in our old age had you
+not meddled and made mischief. You always was a great person for
+lecturin' about Providence, and it's just about the one thing you
+won't let alone."
+
+"What do you mean, Simon?" she asked, and her heart beat fast
+with presage of what he would say.
+
+"Why, Susan, if you had not thrust Mehetabel into the Broom-Squire's
+arms when she didn't want to be there no more nor among brimbles,
+then Iver would have taken her and all would have been peace."
+
+"What makes you say that?" she asked, in a flutter of terror.
+
+"Oh, I'll be bound it would have been so. Iver has been asking
+all manner of questions about Matabel, and why she took Jonas.
+I sed it was agin my wishes, but that you would have it, so
+Matabel had to give in."
+
+"Simon, why did you say that? You set the boy against me."
+
+"I don't see that, Sanna. It is you who have put the fat in the
+fire. If you try to turn a stream to run uphill, you will souse
+your own field, and won't get the water to go where you drive it.
+It's my belief that all the while he has been away, Iver has had
+his mind set upon Matabel. I'm not surprised. You may go through
+Surrey, and won't find her match. Now he comes home and finds that
+you have spoiled his chance, with your meddlesomeness--and there'll
+be the devil to pay, yet. That's my opinion."
+
+The old man turned on his side and was asleep, but self-reproach
+for what was past and doubt as to the future kept his wife awake
+all night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+BACK AGAIN.
+
+
+Fever boiled in the heart of Mehetabel. A mill-race of ideas
+rushed through her brain.
+
+She found no rest in her household work, for it was not possible for
+her to keep her mind upon it. Nor was there sufficient employment
+to be found in the house to engage all her time.
+
+Do what she would, make for herself occupation, there was still
+space in which to muse and to torment herself with her thoughts.
+Whilst her hands were engaged she craved for leisure in which to
+think; when unemployed, the ferment within rendered idleness
+intolerable.
+
+When the work of the house was accomplished, she went to the
+fountain where she had been drawn by Iver, and there saw again
+the glowing brown of his eyes fixed on her, and reheard the tones
+of his voice addressing her. Then she would start as though stung
+by a wasp and go along the track up the Punch-Bowl, recalling
+every detail of her walk with Iver, and feeling again his kiss
+upon her lips. She tried to forget him; with a resolution of which
+she was capable she shut against his entry every door of her heart.
+But she found it was impossible to exclude the thoughts of him.
+Had she not looked up to him from early childhood, and idolized
+him? She had been accustomed to think of him, to talk of him daily
+to his mother, after he had left the Ship. That mother who had
+forcibly separated her from him had herself ingrafted Iver into
+her inmost thoughts, made of him an integral portion of her mind.
+She had been taught by Mrs. Verstage to bring him into all her
+dreams of the future, as a factor without which that future would
+be void and valueless, She had, indeed, never dreamed of him as a
+lover, a husband; nevertheless to Mehetabel the future had always
+been associated in a vague, yet very real, manner with Iver. His
+return was to inaugurate the epoch of a new and joyous existence.
+It was not practicable for her to pluck out of her heart this idea,
+which had thrust its fibres through every layer and into every
+corner of her mind. Those fibres were now thrilling with vitality,
+asserting a vigorous life.
+
+She asked herself the same question that had presented itself to
+his mind, what if Iver had returned one day, one hour, before he
+actually did? Then her marriage with Jonas would have been made
+impossible. The look into his eyes, the pressure of his hand would
+have bound her to him for evermore.
+
+"Why, why, and oh why!" with a cry of pain, "had he not returned
+in time to save her?"
+
+"Why, why, and oh why!" with blood from her heart, "did he return
+at all when too late to save her?"
+
+Mehetabel had a clear and sound understanding. She was not one to
+play tricks with her conscience, and to reason herself into
+allowing what she was well aware was wrong. She nourished herself
+in no delusion that her marriage with Jonas was formal and devoid
+of the sanction of a spiritual bond.
+
+She took her Prayer Book, opened the marriage service, and re-read
+the vows she had made.
+
+She had been asked, "Wilt thou have this man, Jonas, to thy wedded
+husband, to live together after God's ordinance . . . and forsaking
+all other keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
+and thereto, in the sight of God and of the congregation, she had
+promised. There was no escape from this.
+
+She had said--"I, Mehetabel, take thee, Jonas, to be my wedded
+husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better,
+for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to
+love, cherish and obey, till death us do part, according to God's
+holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my troth."
+
+There was no proviso inserted, as a means of escape; nothing
+like: I will be true to thee unless Iver return; unless, thou,
+Bideabout, prove unworthy of my love and obedience; unless there
+be incompatibility of temper; unless I get tired of thee, and
+change my mind.
+
+Mehetabel knew what the words meant, knew that she had been
+sincere in intent when she said them. She knew that she was bound,
+without proviso of any kind.
+
+She knew that she could not love Iver and be guiltless. But she
+was aware also, now, when too late, that she had undertaken towards
+Jonas what was, in a measure, impossible.
+
+Loyal to Jonas as far as outward conduct could make her, that she
+was confident she would remain, but her heart had slipped beyond
+her control, and her thoughts were winged and refused to be caged.
+
+"I say, Matabel!"
+
+The young wife started, and her bosom contracted. Her husband
+spoke. He had come on her at a moment when, lost in day-dreams,
+she least expected, desired, his presence.
+
+"What do you want with me, Jonas?" she asked as she recovered her
+composure.
+
+"I want you to go to the Ship. The old woman there has fallen out
+with the maid, and there are three gentlemen come for the shooting,
+and want to be attended to. The old woman asked if you would help
+a bit. I said 'Dun know:' but after a bit we agreed for a shilling
+a day."
+
+"Never!" gasped Mehetabel.
+
+"I tried to screw more out of her necessity, but could not.
+Besides, if you do well, you'll get half a crown from each of
+the gents, and that'll be seven and six; and say three days at
+the Inn, half-a-guinea all in all. I can spare you for that."
+
+"Jonas, I do not wish to go."
+
+"But I choose that you shall."
+
+"I pray you allow me to remain here."
+
+"There's Mr. Iver leaves to-day for his shop at Guildford, and I
+reckon the old woman is put about over that, too."
+
+After some hesitation Mehetabel yielded. The thought that Iver
+would not be at the Ship alone induced her to consent.
+
+She was hurt and angry that her husband had stipulated for payment
+for her services. After the kindness, the generosity with which
+she had been treated, this seemed ungracious in the extreme. She
+said as much.
+
+"I don't see it," answered Jonas. "When you wos a baby she made
+the parish pay her for taking you. Now she wants you, it is her
+turn to pay."
+
+Bideabout did not allow his wife much time in which to make her
+preparations. He had business in Godalming with a lawyer, and was
+going to drive old Clutch thither. He would take Mehetabel with
+him as far as Thursley.
+
+On reaching the tavern Mrs. Verstage met her with effusion, and
+Iver, hearing his mother's exclamation, ran out.
+
+Mehetabel was surprised and confused at seeing him. He caught her
+by the hand, helped her to descend from the cart, and retained his
+hold of her fingers for a minute after it was necessary.
+
+He had told his mother that he must return to Guildford that day;
+and when she had asked for Mehetabel's help she had calculated on
+the absence of her son, who had been packing up his canvas and
+paints. To him she had not breathed a word of the likelihood that
+Mehetabel would be coming to her aid.
+
+"I daresay Bideabout will give you a lift, Iver," she said.
+
+"I don't know that I can," said Jonas. "I've promised to pick up
+Lintott, and there ain't room in the trap for more than two."
+
+Then the Broom-Squire drove away.
+
+"See, Matabel," said Iver, pointing to the signboard, "I've
+redaubed the Old Ship, quite to my father's satisfaction. By Jove,
+I told mother I should return to Guildford to-day--but now, hang
+me, if I do not defer my departure for a day or two."
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked reproachfully at her son.
+
+"Mother," said he in self-exculpation. "I shall take in ideas, a
+model costs me from a shilling to half-acrown an hour, and here
+is Matabel, a princess of models, will sit for nothing."
+
+"I shall be otherwise employed," said the girl, in confusion.
+
+"Indeed, I shan't spare her for any of that nonsense," said Mrs.
+Verstage.
+
+The hostess was much perplexed. She had reckoned on her son's
+departure before Mehetabel arrived. She would not have asked for
+her assistance if she had not been convinced that he would take
+himself off.
+
+She expostulated. Iver must not neglect his business, slight
+his engagements. He had resolved to go, and had no right to
+shilly-shally, and change his mind. She required his room. He
+would be in the way with the guests.
+
+To all these objections Iver had an answer. In fine, said he, with
+Mehetabel in the house he could not and he would not go.
+
+What was Mehetabel to do? Jonas had locked up his house and had
+carried away the key with him; moreover, to return now was a
+confession of weakness. What was Mrs. Verstage to do? She had
+three visitors, real gentlemen, in the house. They must be made
+comfortable; and the new servant, Polly, according to her notion,
+was a hopeless creature, slatternly, forgetful, impudent.
+
+There was no one on whom the landlady could fall back, except
+Mehetabel, who understood her ways, and was certain to give
+satisfaction. Mrs. Verstage was not what she had once been, old
+age, and more than that, an internal complaint, against which she
+had fought, in which she had refused to believe, had quite recently
+asserted itself, and she was breaking down.
+
+There was consequently no help for it. She resolved to keep a sharp
+lookout on the young people, and employ Mehetabel unremittingly.
+But of one thing she was confident. Mehetabel was not a person to
+forget her duty and self-respect.
+
+The agitation produced by finding that Iver purposed remaining in
+the house passed away, and Mehetabel faced the inevitable.
+
+Wherever her eye rested, memories of a happy girlhood welled up in
+her soft and suffering breast. The geraniums in the window she had
+watered daily. The canary--she had fed it with groundsel. The
+brass skillets on the mantelshelf--they had been burnished by her
+hand. The cushion on "father's" chair was of her work. Everything
+spoke to her of the past, and of a happy past, without sharp
+sorrows, without carking cares.
+
+Old Simon was rejoiced to see Mehetabel again in the house. He
+made her sit beside him. He took her hand in his, and patted it.
+A pleasant smile, like a sunbeam, lit up his commonplace features.
+
+"Mother and I have had a deal to suffer since you've been gone,"
+said Simon. "The girl Polly be that stupid and foreright (awkward)
+we shall be drove mad, both of us, somewhen."
+
+"Do you see that window-pane?" he asked, pointing to a gap in the
+casement. "Polly put her broom handle through. There was not one
+pane broke all the time you was with us, and now there be three
+gone, and no glazier in the village to put 'em to rights. You
+mind the blue pranked (striped) chiney taypot? Mother set great
+store on that. Polly's gone and knocked the spout off. Mother's
+put about terrible over that taypot. As for the best sheets,
+Polly's burnt a hole through one, let a cinder fly out on it, when
+airing. Mother's in a pretty way over that sheet. I don't know
+what there'll be to eat, Polly left the larder open, and the dog
+has carried off a leg of mutton. It has been all cross and contrary
+ever since you went."
+
+Simon mused a while, holding Mehetabel's hand, and said after a
+pause, "It never ort to a' been. You was well placed here and never
+ort to a' left. It was all mother's doing. She drove you into
+weddin' that there Broom-Squire. Women can't be easy unless they
+be hatchin' weddin's; just like as broody hens must be sittin' on
+somethin'. If that had never been brought about, then the taypot
+spout would not have been knocked off, nor the winder-pane broken,
+nor the sheet riddled wi' a cinder, nor the dog gone off wi' the
+leg o' mutton."
+
+Mehetabel was unable to suppress a sigh.
+
+"Winter be comin' on," pursued the old man, "and mother's gettin'
+infirm, and a bit contrary. When Polly worrits her, then I ketches
+it. That always wos her way. I don't look forward to winter. I
+don't look forward to nuthin' now--" He became sorrowful. "All be
+gone to sixes and sevens, now that you be gone, Matabel. What will
+happen I dun' know, I dun' know."
+
+"What may happen," said Mehetabel, "is not always what we expect.
+But one thing is certain--lost happiness is past recovery."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+GONE.
+
+
+During the evening Iver was hardly able to take his eyes off
+Mehetabel, as she passed to and fro in the kitchen.
+
+She knew where was every article that was needed for the gentlemen.
+She moved noiselessly, did everything without fuss, without haste.
+
+He thought over the words she had uttered, and he had overheard:
+Lost happiness is past recovery. Not only was she bereft of
+happiness, but so was he. His father and mother, when too late,
+had found that they also had parted with theirs when they had let
+Mehetabel leave the house.
+
+She moved gracefully. She was slender, her every motion merited
+to be sketched. Iver's artistic sense was excited to admiration.
+What a girl she was! What a model! Oh, that he had her as his own!
+
+Mehetabel knew that she was watched, and it disconcerted her. She
+was constrained to exercise great self-control; not to let slip
+what she carried, not to forget what tasks had to be discharged.
+
+In her heart she glowed with pride at the thought that Iver loved
+her--that he, the prince, the idol of her childhood, should have
+retained a warm place in his heart for her. And yet, the thought,
+though sweet, was bitter as well, fraught with foreshadowings of
+danger.
+
+Mrs. Verstage also watched Mehetabel, and her son likewise, with
+anxious eyes.
+
+The old man left the house to attend to his cattle; and one of
+the gentlemen came to the kitchen-door to invite Iver, whose
+acquaintance he had made during the day, to join him and his
+companions over a bowl of punch.
+
+The young man was unable to refuse, but left with reluctance
+manifest enough to his mother and Mehetabel.
+
+Then, when the hostess was alone with the girl, she drew her to
+her side, and said, "There is now nothing to occupy you. Sit by me
+and tell me about yourself and how you get on with Bideabout. You
+have no notion how pleased I am to have you here again."
+
+Mehetabel kissed the old woman, and a tear from her eye fell on
+the withering cheek of the landlady.
+
+"I dare be bound you find it lonely in the new home," said Mrs.
+Verstage. "Here, in an inn, there is plenty of life; but in the
+farm you are out of the world. How does the Broom-Squire treat
+you?"
+
+She awaited an answer with anxiety, which she was unable to
+disguise.
+
+After a pause Mehetabel replied, with heightened color, "Jonas is
+not unkind."
+
+"You can't expect love-making every day," said the hostess. "It's
+the way of men to promise the sun, moon, and planets, till you are
+theirs, and after that, then poor women must be content to be
+given a spark off a fallen star. There was Jamaica Cheel runn'd
+away with his Betsy because he thought the law wouldn't let him
+have her; she was the wife of another, you know. Then he found
+she never had been proper married to the other chap, and when he
+discovered he was fast tied to Betsy he'd a run away from her
+only the law wouldn't let him. Jonas ain't beautiful and young,
+that I allow."
+
+"I knew what he was when I married him," answered Mehetabel. "I
+cannot say I find him other than what I expected."
+
+"But is he kind to you?"
+
+"I said he was not unkind."
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked questioningly at her adopted child. "I don't
+know," she said, with quivering lips. "I suppose I was right. I
+acted for the best. God knows I sought your happiness. Do not
+tell me that you are unhappy."
+
+"Who is happy?" asked Mehetabel, and turned her eyes on the
+hostess, to read alarm and distress in her face. "Do not trouble
+yourself about me, mother. I knew what I was doing when I took
+Jonas. I had no expectation of finding the Punch-Bowl to be
+Paradise. It takes a girl some time to get settled into fresh
+quarters, and to feel comfortable among strangers. That is mainly
+my case. I was perhaps spoiled when here, you were so kind to me.
+I thank you, mother, that you have not forgotten me in your great
+joy at getting Iver home again."
+
+"There was Thomasine French bought two penn'orth o' shrimps, and
+as her husband weren't at home thought to enjoy herself prodigious.
+But she came out red as a biled lobster. With the best intentions
+things don't always turn out as expected," said Mrs. Verstage,
+"and the irritation was like sting nettles and--wuss." Then, after
+a pause, "I don't know how it is, all my life I have wished to
+have Iver by me. He went away because he wanted to be a painter;
+he has come back, after many years, and is not all I desire. Now
+he is goyn away. I could endure that if I were sure he loved me.
+But I don't think he does. He cares more for his father, who sent
+him packin' than he does for me, who never crossed him. I don't
+understand him. He is not the same as he was."
+
+"Iver is a child no longer," said Mehetabel. "You must not expect
+of him more than he can give. What you said to me about a husband
+is true also of a child. Of course, he loves you, but he does not
+show it as fully as you desire. He has something else now to fill
+his heart beside a mother."
+
+"What is that?" asked Mrs. Verstage, nervously.
+
+"His art," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"Oh, that!" The landlady was not wholly satisfied, she stood up
+and said with a sigh, "I fancy life be much like one o' them bran
+pies at a bazaar. Some pulls out a pair of braces as don't wear
+trousers, and others pull out garters as wears nuthin' but socks.
+'Tis a chance if you get wot's worth havin. Well, I must go look
+out another sheet in place of that Polly has burnt."
+
+"Let me do that, mother."
+
+"No, as you may remember, I have always managed the linen myself."
+
+A few minutes later, after she had left the room, Iver returned.
+He had escaped from the visitors on some excuse.
+
+His heart was a prey to vague yearnings and doubts.
+
+With pleasure he observed that his mother was no longer in the
+kitchen. He saw Mehetabel hastily dry her eyes. He knew that she
+had been crying, and he thought he could divine the cause.
+
+"You are going to Guildford to-morrow morning, are you not?" she
+asked hastily.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Iver planted himself on a stool before the fire, where he could
+look up into Mehetabel's face, as she sat in the settle.
+
+"You have your profession to attend to," she said. "You do not
+know your own mind. You are changeful as a girl."
+
+"How can I go--with you here?" he exclaimed, vehemently.
+
+She turned her head away. He was looking at her with burning eyes.
+
+"Iver," she said, "I pray you be more loving to your mother. You
+have made her heart ache. It is cruel not to do all you can now to
+make amends to her for the past. She thinks that you do not love
+her. She is failing in health, and you must not drip drops of
+fresh sorrow into her heart during her last years."
+
+Iver made a motion of impatience.
+
+"I love my mother. Of course I love her."
+
+"Not as truly as you should, Iver," answered Mehetabel. "You do
+not consider the long ache--"
+
+"And I, had not I a long ache when away from home?"
+
+"You had your art to sustain you. She had but one thought--and that
+of you."
+
+"She has done me a cruel wrong," said he, irritably.
+
+"She has never done anything to you but good, and out of love,"
+answered the girl vehemently.
+
+"To me; that is not it."
+
+Mehetabel raised her eyes and looked at him. He was gazing moodily
+at the fire.
+
+"She has stabbed me through you," exclaimed Iver, with a sudden
+outburst of passion. "Why do you plead my mother's cause, when
+it was she--I know it was she, and none but she--who thrust you
+into this hateful, this accursed marriage."
+
+"No, Iver, no!" cried Mehetabel in alarm. "Do not say this. Iver!
+talk of something else."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of anything."
+
+"Very well," said he, relapsing into his dissatisfied mood. "You
+asked me once what my dream had been, that I dreamt that first
+night under your roof. I will tell you this now. I thought that
+you and I had been married, not you and Jonas, you and I, as it
+should have been. And I thought that I looked at you, and your
+face was deadly pale, and the hand I held was clay cold."
+
+A chill ran through Mehetabel's veins. She said, "There is some
+truth in it, Iver. You hold a dead girl by the hand. To you, I am,
+I must be, forever--dead."
+
+"Nonsense. All will come right somehow."
+
+"Yes, Iver," she said; "it will so. You are free and will go
+about, and will see and love and marry a girl worthy of you in
+every way. As for me, my lot is cast in the Punch-Bowl. No power
+on earth can separate me from Bideabout. I have made my bed and
+must lie on it, though it be one of thorns. There is but one
+thing for us both--we must part and meet no more."
+
+"Matabel," he put forth his hand in protest.
+
+"I have spoken plainly," she said, "because there is no good in
+not doing so. Do not make my part more difficult. Be a man--go."
+
+"Matabel! It shall not be, it cannot be! My love! My only one."
+
+He tried to grasp her.
+
+She sprang from the settle. A mist formed before her eyes. She
+groped for something by which to stay herself.
+
+He seized her by the waist. She wrenched herself free.
+
+"Let me go!" she cried. "Let me go!"
+
+She spoke hoarsely. Her eyes were staring as if she saw a spirit.
+She staggered back beyond his reach, touched the jambs of the
+door, grasped them with a grasp of relief. Then, actuated by a
+sudden thought, turned and fled from the room, from the house.
+
+Iver stood for a minute bewildered. Her action had been so
+unexpected that he did not know what to think, what to do.
+
+He went to the porch and looked up the road, then down it, and did
+not see her.
+
+Mrs. Verstage, came out. "Where is Matabel?" she asked, uneasily.
+
+"Gone!" said Iver. "Mother--gone!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THOR'S STONE.
+
+
+Mehetabel ran, neither along the way that led in the direction of
+Portsmouth, nor along that to Godalming, but to the Moor.
+
+"The Moor," is the marsh land that lies at the roots of the
+sandstone heights that culminate in Hind Head, Leith Hill, and
+the Devil's Jumps. As already said, the great mass of Bagshot sand
+lies upon a substratum of clay. The sand drinks in every drop of
+rain that falls on the surface. This percolates through it till
+it reaches the clay, which refuses to absorb it, or let it sink
+through to other beds. Thereupon the accumulated water breaks
+forth in springs at the base of the hills, and forms a wide tract
+of morass, interspersed with lagoons that teem with fish and wild
+fowl. This region is locally known as "Moor," in contradistinction
+to the commons or downs, which are the dry sandy upland.
+
+"The Moor" is in many places impassable, but the blown sand has
+fallen upon it, and has formed slight elevations, has drifted
+into undulations, and these strips of rising ground, kept moist
+by the water they absorb, have become covered with vegetation. It
+is, moreover, possible by their means to penetrate to the heart
+of, and even thread, the intricacies, and traverse the entire
+region of the Moor.
+
+But it is, at best, a wild and lonesome district, to be explored
+with caution, a labyrinth, the way through which is known only to
+the natives of the sandhills that dominate the marshy plain.
+
+About thirty years ago a benevolent and beneficent landlord, in a
+time of agricultural distress, gave employment to a large number
+of men out of work in the construction of a causeway across the
+Thursley "Moor."
+
+But the work was of no real utility, and it is now overgrown with
+weeds, and only trodden by the sportsman in pursuit of game and
+the naturalist in quest of rare insects and water plants.
+
+A considerable lake, Pudmere, or Pug--Puckmere, lies in the
+Thursley marsh land, surrounded with dwarf willows and scattered
+pines. These latter have sprung from the wind-blown seeds of the
+plantations on higher ground. Throughout this part of the country
+an autumn gale always results in the upspringing of a forest of
+young pines, next year, to leeward of a clump of cone-bearing
+trees. In the Moor such self-sown woods come to no ripeness. The
+pines are unhealthy and stunted, hung with gray moss, and eaten
+out with canker. The excessive moisture and the impenetrable
+subsoil, and the shallowness of the congenial sand that encouraged
+them to root make the young trees decay in adolescence.
+
+An abundant and varied insect world has its home in the Moor. The
+large brown hawkmoth darts about like an arrow. Dragon flies of
+metallic blue, or striped yellow and brown, hover above the lanes
+of water, lost in admiration of their own gorgeous selves reflected
+in the still surface. The great water-beetle booms against the head
+of the intruder, and then drops as a stone into the pool at his
+feet. Effets, saffron yellow bellied, with striped backs, swim in
+the ponds or crawl at their bottom. The natterjack, so rare
+elsewhere, differing from a toad in that it has a yellow band down
+its back, has here a paradise. It may be seen at eve perched on
+a stock of willow herb, or running--it does not hop--round the
+sundew, clearing the glutinous stamens of the flies that have been
+caught by them, and calling in a tone like the warning note of
+the nightingale. Sleeping on the surface the carp lies, and will
+not be scared save by a stone thrown into the still water in which
+it dreams away its life.
+
+The sandy elevations are golden with tormintilla; a richer gold is
+that which lies below, where the marsh glows with bog asphodel.
+The flowering rush spreads its pale pink blossoms; a deeper crimson
+is the marsh orchis showing its spires among the drooping clusters
+of the waxy-pink, cross-leaved heath, and the green or pale and
+rosy-tinted bog-mosses.
+
+Near Pudmoor Pool stands a gray block of ironstone, a solitary
+portion of the superincumbent bed that has been washed away. It
+resembles a gigantic anvil, and it goes by the name of Thor's
+Stone. The slopes that dip towards it are the Thor's-lea, and give
+their name to the parish that includes it and them.
+
+At one time there was a similar mass of iron at the summit of
+Borough Hill, that looks down upon the morasses.
+
+To this many went who were in trouble or necessity, and knocking
+on the stone made known their requirements to the Pucksies, and
+it was asserted, and generally believed, that such applicants had
+not gone away unanswered, nor unrelieved.
+
+It was told of a certain woman who one evening sought to be freed
+by this means from the husband who had made her life unendurable,
+that that same night--so ran the tale--he was returning from the
+tavern, drunk, and stumbling over the edge of a quarry fell and
+broke his neck. Thereupon certain high moralists and busybodies
+had the mass of stone broken up and carted away to mend the roads,
+with the expectation thereby of putting an end to what they were
+pleased to term "a degrading superstition."
+
+To some extent the destruction of the Wishing Block did check the
+practice. But there continued to be persons in distress, and women
+plagued with drunken husbands, and men afflicted with scolding
+wives. And when the pilgrimage of such to Borough Hill ceased,
+because of the destruction of the stone on it, then was it diverted,
+and the current flowed instead to Thor's Stone--a stone that had
+long been regarded with awe, and which now became an object of
+resort, as it was held to have acquired the merits of the block
+so wantonly demolished on Borough Hill.
+
+Nevertheless, the object of the high moralists and busybodies was
+partially attained, inasmuch as the difficulties and dangers
+attending a visit to Thor's Stone reduced the number of those
+seeking superhuman assistance in their difficulties. Courage was
+requisite in one who ventured to the Moor at night, and made a
+way to the iron-stone block, over tracts of spongy morass, among
+lines of stagnant ooze, through coppices of water-loving willows
+and straggling brier. This, which was difficult by day, was
+dangerous in a threefold degree at night. Moreover, the Moor was
+reputed to be haunted by spirits, shadows that ran and leaped,
+and peered and jabbered; and Puck wi' the lantern flickered over
+the surface of the festering bog.
+
+If, then, the visits to Thor's Stone were not so many as to
+the stone on Borough Hill, this was due less to the waning of
+superstition than to the difficulties attending an expedition
+to the former. Without considering what she was doing, moved by
+a blind impulse, Mehetabel ran in the direction of Puck's Moor.
+
+And yet the impulse was explicable. She had often thought over
+the tales told of visits to the habitation of the "Good Folk"
+on Borough Hill, and the transfer of the pilgrimage to Thor's
+Stone. She had, of late, repeatedly asked herself whether, by a
+visit thither, she might not gain what lay at her heart--an
+innocent desire--none other than that Iver should depart.
+
+Now that he had made open show of his passion, that all concealment
+was over between them, every veil and disguise plucked away--now
+she felt that her strength was failing her, and it would fail
+completely if subjected to further trial.
+
+One idea, like a spark of fire shooting through her brain, alone
+possessed her at this moment. Her safety depended on one thing--the
+removal of Iver. Let him go! Let him go! then she could bear her
+lot. Let her see him no more! then she would be able to bring
+her truant heart under discipline. Otherwise her life would be
+unendurable, her tortured brain would give way, her overtaxed
+heart would break.
+
+She found no stay for her soul in the knowledge where was situated
+the country of the Gergesenes, no succor in being well drilled
+in the number of chapters in Genesis. She turned desperately, in
+her necessity, to Thor's Stone, to the spirits--what they were
+she knew not--who aided those in need, and answered petitions
+addressed to them.
+
+The night had already set in, but a full golden moon hung in the
+sky, and the night was in no way dark and dreadful.
+
+When she reached the Moor, Mehetabel ran among sheets of gold,
+leaped ribbons of shining metal, danced among golden filagree--the
+reflection of the orb in the patches, channels, frets of water.
+She sprang from one dark tuft of rushes to another; she ran
+along the ridges of the sand. She skipped where the surface
+was treacherous. What mattered it to her if she missed her footing,
+sank, and the ooze closed over her? As well end so a life that
+could never be other than long drawn agony.
+
+Before leaving the heath, she had stooped and picked up a stone.
+It was a piece of hematite iron, such as frequently occurs in the
+sand, liver-shaped, and of the color of liver.
+
+She required a hammer, wherewith to knock on Thor's anvil, and
+make her necessities known, and this piece of iron would serve
+her purpose.
+
+Frogs were croaking, a thousand natterjacks were whirring like
+the nightjar. Strange birds screamed and rushed out of the trees
+as she sped along. White moths, ghostlike, wavered about her,
+mosquitoes piped. Water-rats plunged into the pools.
+
+As a child she had been familiar with Pudmoor, and instinctively
+she walked, ran, only where her foot could rest securely.
+
+A special Providence, it is thought, watches over children and
+drunkards. It watches also over such as are drunk with trouble,
+it holds them up when unable to think for themselves, it holds
+them back when they court destruction.
+
+To this morass, Mehetabel had come frequently with Iver, in days
+long gone by, to hunt the natterjack and the dragon-fly, to look
+for the eggs of water fowl, and to pick marsh flowers.
+
+As she pushed on, a thin mist spread over portions of the "Moor."
+It did not lie everywhere, it spared the sand, it lay above the
+water, but in so delicate a film as to be all but imperceptible.
+It served to diffuse the moonlight, to make a halo of silver
+about the face of the orb, when looked up to by one within the
+haze, otherwise it was scarcely noticeable.
+
+Mehetabel ran with heart bounding and with fevered brain, and yet
+with her mind holding tenaciously to one idea.
+
+After a while, and after deviations from the direct course, rendered
+necessary by the nature of the country she traversed, Mehetabel
+reached Thor's Stone, that gleamed white in the moonbeam beside a
+sheet of water, the Mere of the Pucksies. This mere had the mist
+lying on it more dense than elsewhere. The vapor rested on the
+surface as a fine gossamer veil, not raised above a couple of feet,
+hardly ruffled by a passing sigh of air. A large bird floated over
+it on expanded wings, it looked white as a swan in the moonlight,
+but cast a shadow black as pitch on the vaporous sheet that covered
+the face of the pool.
+
+It was as though, like Dinorah, this bird were dancing to its own
+shadow. But unlike Dinorah, it was silent. It uttered no song,
+there was even no sound of the rush of air from its broad wings.
+When Mehetabel reached the stone she stood for a moment palpitating,
+gasping for breath, and her breath passing from her lips in white
+puffs of steam.
+
+The haze from the mere seemed to rise and fling its long streamers
+about her head and blindfold her eyes, so that she could see neither
+the lake nor the trees, not even the anvil-stone. Only was there
+about her a general silvery glitter, and a sense of oppression lay
+upon her.
+
+Mehetabel had escaped from the inn, as she was, with bare arms, her
+skirt looped up.
+
+She stood thus, with the lump of ironstone resting on the block,
+the full flood of moonlight upon her, blinding her eyes, but
+revealing her against a background of foliage, like a statue of
+alabaster. Startled by a rustle in the bulrushes and willow growth
+behind her, Mehetabel turned and looked, but her eyes were not
+clear enough for her to discern anything, and as the sound ceased,
+she recovered from her momentary alarm.
+
+She had heard that a deer was in Pudmoor that was supposed to have
+escaped from the park at Peperharow. Possibly the creature was
+there. It was harmless. There were no noxious beasts there. It was
+too damp for vipers, nothing in Pudmoor was hurtful save the gnats
+that there abounded. Then, with her face turned to the north, away
+from the dazzling glory of the moon, Mehetabel swung the lump of
+kidney iron she had taken as hammer, once from east to west, and
+once from west to east. With a third sweep she brought it down upon
+Thor's Stone and cried:
+
+"Take him away! Take him away!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+IVER! COME.
+
+
+She paused, drew a long breath.
+
+Again she swung the hammer-stone. And now she turned round, and
+passed the piece of iron into her left hand. She raised it and
+struck on the anvil, and cried: "Save me from him. Take him away."
+A rush, all the leaves of the trees behind seemed to be stirring,
+and all the foliage falling about her.
+
+A hand was laid on her shoulder roughly, and the stone dropped
+from her fingers on the anvil. Mehetabel shrank, froze, as struck
+with a sudden icy blast, and cried out with fear.
+
+Then said a voice: "So! you seek the Devil's aid to rid you of me."
+
+At once she knew that she was in the presence of her husband, but
+so dazzled was she that she could not discern him.
+
+His fingers closed on her arm, as though each were an iron screw.
+
+"So!" said he, in a low tone, his voice quivering with rage, "like
+Karon Wyeth, you ask the Devil to break my neck."
+
+"No," gasped Mehetabel.
+
+"Yes, Matabel. I heard you. 'Save me from him. Take him away.'"
+
+"No--no--Jonas."
+
+She could not speak more in her alarm and confusion.
+
+"Take him away. Snap his spine--send a bullet through his skull;
+cast him into Pug's mere and drown him; do what you will, only
+rid me of Bideabout Kink, whom I swore to love, honor, and to obey."
+
+He spoke with bitterness and wrath, sprinkled over, nay, permeated,
+with fear; for, with all his professed rationalism, Jonas
+entertained some ancestral superstitions--and belief in the
+efficacy of the spirits that haunted Thor's Stone was one.
+
+"No, Jonas, no. I did not ask it."
+
+"I heard you."
+
+"Not you."
+
+"What," sneered he; "are not these ears mine?"
+
+"I mean--I did not ask to have you taken away."
+
+"Then whom?"
+
+She was silent. She trembled. She could not answer his question.
+
+If her husband had been at all other than he was, Mehetabel would
+have taken him into her confidence. But there are certain persons
+to whom to commit a confidence is to expose yourself to insult and
+outrage. Mehetabel knew this. Such a confidence as she would have
+given would be turned by him into a means of torture and humiliation.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Jonas, in quivering tones of a voice that
+was suppressed. "I know all now. I did not. I trusted you. I was
+perhaps a fool. I believed in you. But Sarah has told me all--how
+he--that painting ape--has been at my house, meeting you, befooling
+you, pouring his love-tales into your ears, and watching till my
+back was turned to kiss you."
+
+She was unable to speak. Her knees smote together.
+
+"You cannot answer," he continued. "You are unable to deny that it
+was so. Sarah has kept an eye on you both. She should have spoken
+before. I am sorry she did not. But better late than never. You
+encouraged him to come to you. You drew him to the house."
+
+"No, Jonas, no. It was you who invited him."
+
+"Ah! for me he would not come. Little he cared for my society. The
+picture-making was but an excuse, and you all have been in a league
+against me."
+
+"Who--Jonas?"
+
+"Who? Why, Sanna Verstage and all. Did not she ask to have you at
+the Ship, and say that the painting fellow was going or gone? And
+is he not there still? She said it to get you and him together
+there, away from me, out of the reach of Sarah's eyes."
+
+"It is false, Jonas!" exclaimed Mehetabel with indignation, that
+for a while overcame her fear.
+
+"False!" cried Bideabout. "Who is false but you? What is false but
+every word you speak? False in heart, false in word, and false in
+act." He had laid hold of the bit of ironstone, and he struck the
+anvil with it at every charge of falsehood.
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel, recovering self-control under the
+resentment she felt at being misunderstood, and her action
+misinterpreted. "Jonas, I have done you no injury. I was weak.
+God in heaven knows my integrity. I have never wronged you; but
+I was weak, and in deadly fear."
+
+"In fear of whom?"
+
+"Of myself--my own weakness."
+
+"You weak!" he sneered. "You--strong as any woman."
+
+"I do not speak of my arms, Jonas--my heart--my spirit--"
+
+"Weak!" he scoffed. "A woman with a weak and timorous soul would
+not come to Thor's Stone at night. No--strong you are--in evil, in
+wickedness, from which no tears will withhold you. And--that
+fellow--that daub-paint--"
+
+Mehetabel did not speak. She was trembling.
+
+"I ask--what of him? Was not he in your thoughts when you asked
+the Devil to rid you of me--your husband?"
+
+"I did not ask that, Jonas."
+
+"What of him? He has not gone away. He has been with you. You knew
+he was not going. You wanted to be with him. Where is he--this
+dauber of canvas--now?"
+
+Then, through the fine gauze of condensing haze, came a call from
+a distance--"Matabel! Where are you?"
+
+"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire. "Here he comes. By appointment
+you meet him here, where you least expected that I would be."
+
+"It is false, Jonas. I came here to escape."
+
+"And pray for my death?"
+
+"No, Jonas, to be rid of him."
+
+Bideabout chuckled, with a sarcastic sneer in the side of his face.
+
+"Come now," said he; "I should dearly like to witness this meeting.
+If true to me, as you pretend, then obey me, summon him here, and
+let me be present, unobserved, when you meet. If your wish be, as
+you say, to be rid of him, I will help you to its fulfilment."
+
+"Jonas!"
+
+"I will it. So alone can you convince me."
+
+She hesitated. She had not the power to gather her thoughts together,
+to judge what she should do, what under the circumstances would be
+best to be done.
+
+"Come now," repeated Jonas. "If you are true and honest, as you
+say, call him."
+
+She put her trembling hand to her head, wiped the drops from her
+brow, the tears from her eyes, the dew from her quivering lips.
+
+Her brain was reeling, her power of will was paralyzed.
+
+"Come, now," said Jonas once more, "answer him--here am I."
+
+Then Mehetabel cried, "Iver, here am I!"
+
+"Where are you, Mehetabel?" came the question through the silvery
+haze and the twinkling willow-shoots.
+
+"Answer him, by Thor's Stone," said Jonas.
+
+Again she hesitated and passed her hand over her face.
+
+"Answer him," whispered Jonas. "If you are true, do as I say. If
+false, be silent."
+
+"By Thor's Stone," called Mehetabel.
+
+Then all the sound heard was that of the young man brushing his
+way through the rushes and willow boughs.
+
+In the terror, the agony overmastering her, she had lost all
+independent power of will. She was as a piece of mechanism in the
+hands of Jonas. His strong, masterful mind dominated her, beat
+down for a time all opposition. She knew that to summon Iver was
+to call him to a fearful struggle, perhaps to his death, and yet
+the faculty of resistance was momentarily gone from her. She tried
+to collect her thoughts. She could not. She strove to think what
+she ought to do, she was unable to frame a thought in her mind
+that whirled and reeled.
+
+Bideabout stooped and picked up a gun he had been carrying, and
+had dropped on the turf when he laid hold of his wife.
+
+Now he placed the barrel across the anvil stone, with the muzzle
+directed whence came the sound of the advance of Iver.
+
+Jonas went behind the stone and bent one knee to the ground.
+
+Mehetabel heard the click as he spanned the trigger.
+
+"Stand on one side," said Jonas, in a low tone, in which were
+mingled rage and exultation. "Call him again."
+
+She was silent. Lest she should speak she pressed both her hands
+to her mouth.
+
+"Call him again," said Jonas. "I will receive him with a dab of
+lead in his heart."
+
+She would not call.
+
+"On your obedience and truth, of which you vaunt," persisted Jonas.
+
+Should she utter a cry of warning? Would he comprehend? Would that
+arrest him, make him retrace his steps, escape what menaced?
+
+Whether she cried or not he would come on. He knew Thor's Stone
+as well as she. They had often visited it together as children.
+
+"If false, keep silence," said Jonas, looking up at her from where
+he knelt. "If true, bid him come--to his death, that I may carry
+out your wish, and rid you of him. If the spirits won't help you,
+I will."
+
+Then she shrilly cried, "Iver, come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A SHOT.
+
+
+After Bideabout had done his business in Godalming he had returned
+to the Punch-Bowl.
+
+The news had reached his ears that a deer had been seen on the
+Moor, and he knew that on the following day many guns would be out,
+as every man in Thursley was a sportsman. With characteristic
+cunning he resolved to forestall his fellows, go forth at night,
+which he might well do when the moon was full, and secure the deer
+for himself.
+
+As he left the house, he encountered his sister.
+
+"Where are you going off to?" she inquired. "And got a gun too."
+
+He informed her of his intention.
+
+"Ah! you'll give us some of the venison," said she.
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," answered the Broom-Squire, churlishly.
+
+"So you are going stag-hunting? That's purely," laughed she.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I should have thought you'd best a' gone after your own wife, and
+brought her home."
+
+"She is all right--at the Ship."
+
+"I know she is at the Ship--just where she ought not to be; just
+where you should not let her be."
+
+"She'll earn a little money."
+
+"Oh, money!" scoffed Sarah Rocliffe. "What fools men be, and set
+themselves up as wiser than all the world of women. You've had
+Iver Verstage here; you've invited him over to paint your Matabel;
+and here he has been, admiring her, saying soft things to her, and
+turnin' her head. Sometimes you've been present. Most times you've
+been away. And now you've sent her to the Ship, and you are off
+stag huntin'." Then with strident voice, the woman sang, and looked
+maliciously at her brother.
+
+  "Oh, it blew a pleasant gale,
+   As a frite under sail,
+   Came a-bearing to the south along the strand.
+   With her swelling canvas spread.
+   But without an ounce of lead,
+   And a signalling, alack t she was ill-manned."
+
+With a laugh, and a snap of her fingers in Bideabout's face, she
+repeated tauntingly:--
+
+  "And a-signalling, alack I she was ill-manned."
+
+Then she burst forth again:--
+
+  "She was named the Virgin Dove,
+   With a lading, all of love.
+   And she signalled, that for Venus (Venice) she was bound.
+   But a pilot who could steer.
+   She required, for sore her fear,
+   Lest without one she should chance to run aground."
+
+"Be silent, you croaking raven," shouted the Broom-Squire. "If you
+think to mock me, you are wrong. I know well enough what I am about.
+As for that painting chap, he is gone--gone to Guildford."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because the landlady said as much."
+
+"What--to you?"
+
+"Yes, to me."
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe laughed mockingly.
+
+"Oh, Bideabout," she said, "did not that open your eyes? What did
+Sanna Verstage mean when she asked you to allow your wife to go to
+the inn! What did she mean but this?" she mimicked the mistress,
+"'Please, Master Bideabout, may Matabel come to me for a day or
+two--that naughty boy of mine is away now. So don't be frightened.
+I know very well that if he were at the Ship you might hesitate to
+send Matabel there.'" Then in her own tones Sarah Rocliffe said.
+"That is the meaning of it. But I don't believe that he is gone."
+
+"Sanna Verstage don't tell lies."
+
+"If he were gone, Matabel would not be so keen to go there."
+
+"Matabel was not keen. She did not wish to go."
+
+"She did wish it; but she made a pretence before you that she did
+not."
+
+"Hold your slanderous tongue," shouted Jonas. "I'll not hear another
+word."
+
+"Then you must shut your ears to what all the parish is saying."
+
+Thereupon she told him what she had seen, with amplifications of
+her own. She was glad to have the opportunity of angering or
+wounding her brother; of sowing discord between him and his wife.
+
+When he parted from her, she cast after him the remark--"I believe
+he is still at the Ship."
+
+In a mood the reverse of cheerful, angry with Mehetabel, raging
+against Iver, cursing himself, and overflowing with spite against
+his sister Jonas went to the Moor in quest of the strayed deer. He
+knew very well that his sister bore Mehetabel a grudge; he was
+sufficiently acquainted with her rancorous humor and unscrupulous
+tongue to know that what she said was not to be relied on, yet
+discount as he might what she had told him, he was assured that a
+substratum of truth lay at the bottom.
+
+Before entering the morass Jonas halted, and leaning on his gun,
+considered whether he should not go to the tavern, reclaim his
+wife and reconduct her home, instead of going after game. But he
+thought that such a proceeding might be animadverted upon; he
+relied upon Mrs. Verstage's words, that Iver was departing to his
+professional work, and he was eager to secure the game for himself.
+
+Accordingly he directed his course to the Moor, and stole along
+softly, listening for the least sound of the deer, and keeping his
+eye on the alert to observe her.
+
+He had been crouching in a bush near the pool when he was startled
+by the apparition of Mehetabel.
+
+At first he had supposed that the sound of steps proceeded from the
+advancing deer, for which he was on the watch, and he lay close,
+with his barrel loaded, and his finger on the trigger. But in place
+of the deer his own wife approached, indistinctly seen in the
+moonlight, so that he did not recognize her. And his heart stood
+still, numbed by panic, for he thought he saw a spirit. But as the
+form drew near he knew Mehetabel.
+
+Perplexed, he remained still, to observe her further movements.
+Then he saw her approach the stone of Thor, strike on it with an
+extemporized hammer, and cry, "Save me from him! Take him away!"
+
+Perhaps it was not unreasonable that he at once concluded that she
+referred to himself.
+
+He knew that she did not love him. Instead of each day of married
+life drawing more closely the bonds that bound them together, it
+really seemed to relax such as did exist. She became colder,
+withdrew more into herself, shrank from his clumsy amiabilities, and
+kept the door of her heart resolutely shut against all intrusion.
+She went through her household duties perfunctorily, as might a
+slave for a hated master.
+
+If she did not love him, if her married life was becoming
+intolerable, then it was obvious that she sought relief from it,
+and the only means of relief open to her lay through his death.
+
+But there was something more that urged her on to desire this. She
+not merely disliked him, but loved another, and over his coffin she
+would leap into that other man's arms. As Karon Wyeth had aimed at
+and secured the death of her husband, so did Mehetabel seek
+deliverance from him.
+
+Bideabout sprang from his lurking-place to check her in the midst
+of her invocation, and to avert the danger that menaced himself.
+And now he saw the very man draw nigh who had withdrawn the heart
+of his wife from him, and had made his home miserable; the man on
+behalf of whom Mehetabel had summoned supernatural aid to rid her
+of himself.
+
+Kneeling behind Thor's Stone, with the steel barrel of his gun laid
+on the anvil, and pointed in the direction whence came Iver's
+voice, he waited till his rival should appear, and draw within
+range, that he might shoot him through the heart.
+
+"Summon him again," he whispered.
+
+"Iver come!" called Mehetabel.
+
+Then through the illuminated haze, like an atmosphere of glow-worm's
+light, himself black against a background of shining water, appeared
+the young man.
+
+Jonas had his teeth clenched; his breath hissed like the threat of
+a serpent, as he drew a long inspiration through them.
+
+"You are there!" shouted Iver, joyously, and ran forward.
+
+She felt a thrill run through the barrel, on which she had laid
+her hand; she saw a movement of the shoulder of Jonas, and was
+aware that he was preparing to fire.
+
+Instantly she snatched the gun to her, laid the muzzle against her
+own side, and said: "Fire!" She spoke again. "So all will be well."
+
+Then she cried in piercing tones, "Iver! run! run! he is here, and
+he seeks to kill you."
+
+Jonas sprang to his feet with a curse, and endeavored to wrest the
+gun from Mehetabel's hand. But she held it fast. She clung to it
+with tenacity, with the whole of her strength, so that he was unable
+to pluck it away.
+
+And still she cried, "Run, Iver, run; he will kill you!"
+
+"Let go!" yelled Bideabout. He set his foot against Thor's Stone;
+he twisted the gun about, he turned it this way, that way, to
+wrench it out of her hands.
+
+"I will not!" she gasped.
+
+"It is loaded! It will go off!"
+
+"I care not."
+
+"Oh, no! so long as it shoots me."
+
+"Send the lead into my heart!"
+
+"Then let go. But no! the bullet is not for you. Let go, I say, or
+I will brain you with the butt end, and then shoot him!"
+
+"I will not! Kill me if you will!"
+
+Strong, athletic, lithe in her movements, Mehetabel was a match for
+the small muscular Jonas. If he succeeded for a moment in twisting
+the gun out of her hands it was but for an instant. She had caught
+the barrel again at another point.
+
+He strove to beat her knuckles against Thor's Stone, but she was
+too dexterous for him. By a twist she brought his hand against the
+block instead of her own.
+
+With an oath he cast himself upon her, by the impact, by the weight,
+to throw her down. Under the burden she fell on her knees, but did
+not relinquish her hold on the gun. On the contrary she obtained
+greater power over it, and held the barrel athwart her bosom, and
+wove her arms around it.
+
+Iver was hastening to her assistance. He saw that some contest was
+going on, but was not able to discern either with whom Mehetabel
+was grappling nor what was the meaning of the struggle.
+
+In his attempt to approach, Iver was regardless where he trod. He
+sank over his knees in the mire, and was obliged to extricate
+himself before he could advance.
+
+With difficulty, by means of oziers, he succeeded in reaching firm
+soil, and then, with more circumspection, he sought a way by which
+he might come to the help of Mehetabel.
+
+Meanwhile, regardless of the contest of human passion, raging close
+by, the great bird swung like a pendulum above the mere, and its
+shadow swayed below it.
+
+"Let go! I will murder you, if you do not!" hissed Jonas. "You
+think I will kill him. So I will, but I will kill you first."
+
+"Iver! help!" cried Mehetabel; her strength was abandoning her.
+
+The Broom-Squire dragged his kneeling wife forward, and then thrust
+her back. He held the gun by the stock and the end of the barrel.
+The rest was grappled by her, close to her bosom.
+
+He sought to throw her on her face, then on her back. So only could
+he wrench the gun away.
+
+"Ah, ah!" with a shout of triumph.
+
+He had disengaged the barrel from her arm. He turned it sharply
+upward, to twist it out of her hold she had with the other arm.
+
+Then--suddenly--an explosion, a flash, a report, a cry; and
+Bideabout staggered back and fell.
+
+A rush of wings.
+
+The large bird that had vibrated above the water had been alarmed,
+and now flew away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE IRON-STONE HAMMER.
+
+
+For a couple of minutes complete, death-like silence ensued.
+
+Mehetabel, panting, everything swimming, turning before her eyes,
+remained motionless on her knees, but rested her hands on Thor's
+Stone, to save herself from falling on her face.
+
+What had happened she hardly knew. The gun had been discharged, and
+then had fallen before her knees. Whom had it injured? What was
+the injury done?
+
+She was unable to see, through the veil of tears that covered her
+eyes. She had not voice wherewith to speak.
+
+Iver, moreover, stood motionless, holding to a willow. He also was
+ignorant of what had occurred. Was the shot aimed at him, or at
+Mehetabel? Who had fired?
+
+Crouching against a bush, into which he had staggered and then
+collapsed, was the Broom-Squire. A sudden spasm of pain had shot
+through him at the flash of the gun. That he was struck he knew,
+to what extent injured he could not guess.
+
+As he endeavored to raise one hand, the left, in which was the seat
+of pain, he became aware that his arm was stiff and powerless. He
+could not move his fingers.
+
+The blood was coursing over his hand in a warm stream.
+
+A horrible thought rushed through his brain. He was at the mercy of
+that woman who had invoked the Devil against him, and of the lover
+on whose account she had desired his death. She had called, and in
+part had been answered. He was wounded, and incapable of defending
+himself. This guilty pair would complete the work, kill him; blow
+out his brains, beat his head with the stock of the gun, and cast
+his body into the marsh.
+
+Who would know how he came by his death? His sister was aware that
+he had gone to the moor to stalk deer. What evidence would be
+producible against this couple should they complete the work and
+dispose of him?
+
+Strangely unaccountable as it may seem, yet it was so, that at the
+moment, rage at the thought that, should they kill him, Mehetabel
+and Iver would escape punishment, was the prevailing thought and
+predominant passion in Jonas's mind, and not by any means fear for
+himself. This made him disregard his pain, indifferent to his fate.
+
+"I have still my right hand and my teeth," he said. "I will beat
+and tear that they may bear marks that shall awake suspicion."
+
+But his head swam, he turned sick and faint, and became insensible.
+
+When Jonas recovered consciousness he lay on his back, and saw faces
+bowed over him--that of his wife and that of Iver, the two he hated
+most cordially in the world, the two at least he hated to see
+together.
+
+He struggled to rise and bite, like a wild beast, but was held down
+by Iver.
+
+"Curse you! will you kill me so?" he yelled, snapping with his
+great jaws, trying to reach and rend the hands that restrained him.
+
+"Lie still, Bideabout," said the young painter, "are you crazed?
+We will do you no harm. Mehetabel is binding up your arm. As far
+as I can make out the shot has run up it and is lodged in the
+shoulder."
+
+"I care not. Let me go. You will murder me." Mehetabel had torn a
+strip from her skirt and was making a bandage of it.
+
+"Jonas," she said, "pray lie quiet, or sit up and be reasonable.
+I must do what I can to stay the blood."
+
+As he began to realize that he was being attended to, and that
+Iver and Mehetabel had no intention to hurt him, the Broom-Squire
+became more composed and patient.
+
+His brows were knit and his teeth set. He avoided looking into the
+faces of those who attended to him.
+
+Presently the young painter helped him to rise, and offered his
+arm. This Jonas refused.
+
+"I can walk by myself," said he, churlishly; then turning to
+Mehetabel, he said, with a sneer, "The devil never does aught but
+by halves."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"The bullet has entered my arm and not my heart, as you desired."
+
+"Go," she said to the young artist; "I pray you go and leave me
+with him. I will take him home."
+
+Iver demurred.
+
+"I entreat you to go," she urged. "Go to your mother. Tell her that
+my husband has met with an accident, and that I am called away to
+attend him. That is to serve as an excuse. I must, I verily must
+go with him. Do not say more. Do not say where this happened."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+She did not answer. He considered for a moment and then dimly saw
+that she was right.
+
+"Iver," she said in a low tone, so that Jonas might not hear, "you
+should not have followed me; then this would never have happened."
+
+"If I had not followed you he would have been your murderer,
+Matabel."
+
+Then, reluctantly, he went. But ever and anon turned to listen or
+to look.
+
+When he was out of sight, then Mehetabel said to her husband, "Lean
+on me, and let me help you along."
+
+"I can go by myself," he said bitterly. "I would not have his arm.
+I will have none of yours. Give me my gun."
+
+"No, Jonas, I will carry that for you."
+
+Then he put forth his uninjured right hand, and took the kidney-iron
+stone from the anvil block, on which Mehetabel had left it.
+
+"What do you want with that?" she asked.
+
+"I may have to knock also," he answered. "Is it you alone who are
+allowed to have wishes?"
+
+She said no more, but stepped along, not swiftly, cautiously, and
+turning at every step, to see that he was following, and that he
+had put his foot on substance that would support his weight.
+
+"Why do you look at me?" he asked captiously.
+
+"Jonas, you are in pain, and giddy with pain. You may lose your
+footing, and go into the water."
+
+"So--that now is your desire?"
+
+"I pray you," she answered, in distress, "Jonas, do not entertain
+such evil thoughts."
+
+They attained a ridge of sand. She fell back and paced at his side.
+
+Bideabout observed her out of the corners of his eyes. By the
+moonlight he could see how finely, nobly cut was her profile; he
+could see the glancing of the moon in the tears that suffused her
+cheeks.
+
+"You know who shot me?" he inquired, in a low tone.
+
+"I know nothing, Jonas, but that there was a struggle, and that
+during this struggle, by accident--"
+
+"You did it."
+
+"No, Jonas. I cannot think it."
+
+"It was so. You touched the trigger. You knew that the piece was
+on full cock."
+
+"It was altogether an accident. I knew nothing. I was conscious of
+nothing, save that I was trying to prevent you from committing a
+great crime."
+
+"A great crime!" jeered he. "You thought only how you might save
+the life of your love."
+
+Mehetabel stood still and turned to him.
+
+"Jonas, do not say that. You cruelly, you wrongfully misjudge me
+I will tell you all, if you will I never would have hidden anything
+from you if I had not known how you would take and use what I said.
+Iver and I were child friends, almost brother and sister. I always
+cared for him, and I think he liked me. He went away and I saw
+nothing of him. Then, at our wedding, he returned home; and since
+then I have seen him a good many times--you, yourself asked him to
+the Punch-Bowl, and bade me stand for him to paint. I cannot deny
+that I care for him, and that he likes me."
+
+"As brother and sister?"
+
+"No--not as brother and sister. We are children no longer. But,
+Jonas, I have no wish, no thought other than that he should leave
+Thursley, and that I should never, never, never see his face again.
+Of thought, of word, of act against my duty to you I am guiltless.
+Of thoughts, as far as I have been able to hold my thoughts in
+chains, of words, of acts I have nothing to reproach myself with,
+there have been none but what might be known to you, in a light
+clearer than that poured down by this moon. You will believe me,
+Jonas."
+
+He looked searchingly into her beautiful, pale face--now white as
+snow in the moonlight. After a long pause, he answered, "I do not
+believe you."
+
+"I can say no more," she spoke and sighed, and went forward.
+
+He now lagged behind.
+
+They stepped off the sand ridge, and were again in treacherous
+soil, neither land nor water, but land and water tossed together
+in strips and tags and tatters.
+
+"Go on," he said. "I will step after you."
+
+Presently she looked behind her, and saw him swinging his right
+hand, in which was the lump of ironstone.
+
+"Why do you turn your head?" he asked.
+
+"I look for you."
+
+"Are you afraid of me?"
+
+"I am sorry for you, Jonas."
+
+"Sorry--because of my arm?"
+
+"Because you are unable to believe a true woman's word."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"No--I do not suppose you can."
+
+Then he screamed, "No, I do not believe." He leaped forward, and
+struck her on the head with the nodule of iron, and felled her at
+his feet.
+
+"There," said he; "with this stone you sought my death, and with
+it I cause yours."
+
+Then he knelt where she lay motionless, extended, in the marsh,
+half out of the water, half submerged.
+
+He gripped her by the throat, and by sheer force, with his one
+available arm, thrust her head under water.
+
+The moonlight played in the ripples as they closed over her face;
+it surely was not water, but liquid silver, fluid diamond.
+
+He endeavored to hold her head under the surface. She did not
+struggle. She did not even move. But suddenly a pang shot through
+him, as though he had been pierced by another bullet. The bandage
+about his wound gave way, and the hot blood broke forth again.
+
+Jonas reeled back in terror, lest his consciousness should desert
+him, and he sank for an instant insensible, face foremost, into
+the water.
+
+As it was, where he knelt, among the water-plants, they were
+yielding under his weight.
+
+He scrambled away, and clung to a distorted pine on the summit of
+a sand-knoll.
+
+Giddy and faint, he laid his head against the bush, and inhaled
+the invigorating odor of the turpentine. Gradually he recovered,
+and was able to stand unsupported.
+
+Then he looked in the direction where Mehetabel lay. She had not
+stirred. The bare white arms were exposed and gleaming in the
+moonlight. The face he did not see. He shrank from looking towards
+it.
+
+Then he slunk away, homewards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+AN APPARITION.
+
+
+When Bideabout arrived in the Punch-Bowl, as he passed the house
+of the Rocliffes, he saw his sister, with a pail, coming from the
+cow-house. One of the cattle was ill, and she had been carrying
+it a bran-mash.
+
+He went to her, and said, "Sally!"
+
+"Here I be, Jonas, what now?"
+
+"I want you badly at my place. There's been an accident."
+
+"What? To whom? Not to old Clutch?"
+
+"Old Clutch be bothered. It is I be hurted terr'ble bad. In my arm.
+If it weren't dark here, under the trees, you'd see the blood."
+
+"I'll come direct. That's just about it. When she's wanted, your
+wife is elsewhere. When she ain't, she's all over the shop. I'll
+clap down the pail inside. You go on and I'll follow."
+
+Jonas unlocked his house, and entered. He groped about for the
+tinder-box, but when he had found it was unable to strike a light
+with one hand only. He seated himself in the dark, and fell into
+a cold sweat.
+
+Not only was he in great pain, but his mind was ill at ease, full
+of vague terrors. There was something in the corner that he could
+see, slightly stirring. A little moonlight entered, and a fold
+flickered in the ray, then disappeared again. Again something came
+within the light. Was it a foot? Was it the bottom of a skirt? He
+shrank back against the wall, as far as possible from this
+mysterious, restless form.
+
+He looked round to see that the scullery door was open, through
+which to escape, should this thing move towards him.
+
+The sow was grunting and squealing in her stye, Jonas hailed the
+sound; there was nothing alarming in that. Had all been still in
+and about the house, there might have come from that undefined
+shadow in the comer a voice, a groan, a sigh--he knew not what.
+With an exclamation of relief he saw the flash of Sally Rocliffe's
+lantern pass the window.
+
+Next moment she stood in the doorway.
+
+"Where are you, Jonas?"
+
+"I am here. Hold up the lantern, Sarah. What's that in the corner
+there, movin'?"
+
+"Where, Jonas?"
+
+"There--you are almost touchin it. Turn the light."
+
+"That," said his sister; "why don'ty know your own old oilcloth
+overcoat as was father's, don'ty know that when you see it?"
+
+"I didn't see it, but indistinct like," answered Jonas.
+
+His courage, his strength, his insolence were gone out of him.
+
+"Now, what's up?" asked Sarah. "How have you been hurted?"
+
+Jonas told a rambling story. He had been in the Marsh. He had
+seen the deer, but in his haste to get within range he had run,
+caught his foot in a bramble, had stumbled, and the gun had been
+discharged, and the bullet had entered his arm.
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe at once came to him to examine the wound.
+
+"Why, Jonas, you never did this up yourself. There's some one been
+at your arm already. Here's this band be off Matabel's petticoat.
+How came you by that?"
+
+He was confounded, and remained silent.
+
+"And where is the gun, Jonas?"
+
+"The gun!"
+
+He had forgotten all about it in his panic. Mehetabel had been
+carrying it when he beat her down. He had thought of it no more.
+He had thought of nothing after the deed, but how to escape from
+the spot as speedily as possible.
+
+"I suppose I've lost it," he said. "Somewhere in the Moor. You see
+when I was wounded, I hadn't the head to think of anything else."
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe was examining his arm. The sleeve of his coat had
+been cut.
+
+"I don't understand your tale a scrap, Jonas," she said. "Who used
+his knife to slit up your sleeve? And how comes your arm to be
+bandaged with this bit of Matabel's dress?"
+
+Bideabout was uneasy. The tale he had told was untenable. There
+was a necessity for it to be supplemented. But his condition of
+alarm and pain made him unable readily to frame a story that would
+account for all, and satisfy his sister.
+
+"Jonas," said Sarah, "I'm sure you have seen Matabel, and she did
+this for you. Where is she?"
+
+Bideabout trembled. He thrust his sister from him, saying,
+irritably, "Why do you worrit me with questions? My arm wants
+attendin' to."
+
+"I can't do much to that," answered the woman. "A doctor should
+look to that. I'll go and call Samuel, and bid him ride away after
+one."
+
+"I won't be left alone!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, in a sudden
+access of terror.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe deliberately took the lantern and held it to his face.
+
+"Jonas," she said, "I'll do nuthin' more for you till I know the
+whole truth. You've seen your wife and there's somethin' passed
+between you. I see by your manner that all is not right. Where is
+Matabel? You haven't been after the deer on the Moor. You have been
+to the Ship."
+
+"That is a lie," answered Bideabout. "I have been on the Moor. 'Tis
+there I got shot, and, if you will have it all out, it was Matabel
+who shot me."
+
+"Matabel shot you?"
+
+"Yes, it was. She shot me to prevent me from killin' him."
+
+"Whom?"
+
+"You know--that painter fellow."
+
+"So that is the truth? Then where is she?"
+
+The Broom-Squire hesitated and moved his feet uneasily.
+
+"Jonas," said his sister, "I will know all."
+
+"Then know it," he answered angrily. "Somehow, as she was helpin'
+me along, her foot slipped and she fell into the water. I had but
+one arm, and I were stiff wi' pains. What could I do? I did what
+I could, but that weren't much. I couldn't draw her out o' the
+mire. That would take a man wi' two good arms, and she was able
+to scramble out if she liked. But she's that perverse, there's no
+knowing, she might drown herself just to spite me."
+
+"Why did you not speak of that at once?"
+
+"Arn't I hurted terr'ble bad? Arn't I got a broken arm or somethin'
+like it? When a chap is in racks o' pain he han't got all his wits
+about him. I know I wanted help, for myself, first, and next, for
+her; and now I've told you that she's in the Moor somewhere. She
+may ha' crawled out, or she may be lyin' there. I run on, so fast
+as possible, in my condition, to call for help."
+
+"Where is she? Where did you leave her?"
+
+"Right along between here and Thor's Stone. There's an old twisted
+Scotch pine with magpies' nests in it--I reckon more nests than
+there be green stuff on the tree. It's just about there."
+
+"Jonas," said the sister, who had turned deadly white, and who
+lowered the lantern, unable longer to hold it to her brother's face
+with steady hand, "Jonas, you never ort to ha' married into a
+gallus family; you've ketched the complaint. It's bad enough to
+have men hanged on top o' Hind Head. We don't want another gibbet
+down at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl, and that for one of ourselves."
+
+Then voices were audible outside, and a light flickered through
+the window.
+
+In abject terror the Broom-Squire screamed "Sally, save me, hide
+me; it's the constables!"
+
+He cowered into a corner, then darted into the back kitchen, and
+groped for some place of concealment.
+
+He heard thence the voices more distinctly. There was a tramp of
+feet in his kitchen; a flare of fuller light than that afforded by
+Mrs. Rocliffe's lantern ran in through the door he had left ajar.
+
+The sweat poured over his face and blinded his eyes.
+
+Bideabout's anxiety was by no means diminished when he recognized
+one of the voices in his front kitchen as that of Iver.
+
+Had Iver watched him instead of returning to the Ship? Had he
+followed in his track, spying what he did? Had he seen what had
+taken place by the twisted pine with the magpies' nests in it?
+And if so, had he hasted to Thursley to call out the constable, and
+to arrest him as the murderer of his wife.
+
+Trembling, gnawing the nails of his right hand, cowering behind
+the copper, he waited, not knowing whither to fly.
+
+Then the door was thrust open, and Sally Rocliffe came in and called
+to him: "Jonas! here is Master Iver Verstage--very good he is to
+you--he has brought a doctor to attend to your arm."
+
+The wretched man grasped his sister by the wrist, drew her to him,
+and whispered--"That is not true; it is the constable."
+
+"No, Jonas. Do not be a fool. Do not make folk suspect evil," she
+answered in an undertone. "There is a surgeon staying at the Ship,
+and this is the gentleman who has come to assist you."
+
+Mistrustfully, reluctantly, Jonas crept from his hiding place, and
+came behind his sister to the doorway, where he touched his
+forelock, looked about him suspiciously, and said--"Your servant,
+gentlemen. Sorry to trouble you; but I've met with an accident. The
+gun went off and sent a bullet into my arm. Be you a doctor, sir?"
+he asked, eyeing a stranger, who accompanied Iver.
+
+"I am a surgeon; happily, now lodging at the Ship, and Mr. Verstage
+informed me of what had occurred, so I have come to offer my
+assistance."
+
+Jonas was somewhat reassured, but his cunning eyes fixed on Iver
+observed that the young painter was looking around, in quest,
+doubtless, of Mehetabel.
+
+"I must have hot water. Who will attend to me?" asked the surgeon.
+
+"I will do what is necessary," said Mrs. Rocliffe.
+
+"Will you go to bed?" asked the surgeon, "I can best look to you
+then."
+
+Jonas shook his head. He would have the wound examined there, as
+he sat in his arm-chair.
+
+Then came the inquiry from Iver--"Where is your wife, Jonas? I
+thought she had returned with you."
+
+"My wife? She has lagged behind."
+
+"Not possible. She was to assist you home."
+
+"I needed no assistance."
+
+"She ought to be here to receive instructions from the doctor."
+
+"These can be given to my sister."
+
+"But, Bideabout, where is she?"
+
+Jonas was silent, confused, alarmed.
+
+Iver became uneasy.
+
+"Bideabout, where is Matabel. She must be summoned."
+
+"It's nort to you where she be," answered the Broom-Squire savagely.
+
+Then Mrs. Rocliffe stepped forward.
+
+"I will tell you," she said. "My brother is that mad wi' pain, he
+don't know what to think, and say, and do. As they was coming
+along together, loving-like, as man and wife, she chanced to slip
+and fall into the water, and Jonas, having his arm bad, couldn't
+help her out, as he was a-minded, and he runned accordin' here, to
+tell me, and I was just about sendin' my Samuel to find and help
+her."
+
+"Matabel in the water--drowned!"
+
+"Jonas did not say that. She falled in."
+
+"Matabel--fell in!"
+
+Iver looked from Mrs. Rocliffe towards Jonas. There was something
+in the Broom-Squire's look that did not satisfy him. It was not
+pain alone that so disturbed his face, and gave it such ghastly
+whiteness.
+
+"Bideabout," said he, gravely, "I must and will have a proper
+explanation. I cannot take your sister's story. Speak to me
+yourself. After what I had seen between you and Matabel, I must
+necessarily feel uneasy. I must have a plain explanation from your
+own lips."
+
+Jonas was silent; he looked furtively from side to side.
+
+"I will be answered," said Iver, with vehemence.
+
+"Who is to force me to speak?" asked the Broom-Squire, surlily.
+
+"If I cannot, I shall fetch the constable. I say--where did you
+leave Mehetabel?"
+
+"My sister told you--under the tree."
+
+"What--not in the water?"
+
+"She may have fallen in. I had but one arm, and that hurting
+terrible."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Iver. "You came home whining over your
+arm--leaving her in the marsh!"
+
+"You don't suppose I threw her in?" sneered Jonas. "Me--bad of an
+arm."
+
+"I don't know what to think," retorted Iver. "But I will know where
+Mehetabel is."
+
+In the doorway, with her back to the moonlight, stood a female
+figure.
+
+The first to see it was Jonas, and he uttered a gasp--he thought he
+saw a spirit.
+
+The figure entered, without a word, and all saw that it was
+Mehetabel.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+A SECRET.
+
+
+It was indeed Mehetabel.
+
+She entered quietly, without a word, carrying Bideabout's gun, which
+she placed in the corner, by the fireplace.
+
+Jonas and his sister looked at her, at first terror-struck, as
+though they beheld a ghost, then with unrest, for they knew not
+what she would say.
+
+She said nothing.
+
+She was deadly pale, and Iver, looking at her, was reminded of the
+Mehetabel he had seen in his dream.
+
+At once she recognized that her husband's arm was being dressed,
+and leisurely, composedly, she came forward to hold the basin of
+water, and do whatever was required of her by the surgeon.
+
+The first to speak was Iver, who said, "Matabel! We have just been
+told you had fallen into the water."
+
+"Yes. My dress is soaked."
+
+"And you managed to get out?"
+
+"Yes, when I fell I had hold of my husband's gun and that was
+caught in a bush; it held me up."
+
+"But how came you to fall?"
+
+"I believe I was unconscious perhaps a faint."
+
+Nothing further could be elicited from her, then or later. Had she
+any suspicion that she had been struck down? This was a question
+that, later, Jonas asked himself. But he never knew till--, but we
+must not anticipate.
+
+A day or two after that eventful night he made some allusion to a
+blow on her head, when she appeared with a bandage round it.
+
+"Yes," she said: "I fell, and hurt myself."
+
+For some days Bideabout was in much pain and discomfort. His left
+shoulder had been injured by the ball that had lodged in it, and
+it was probable that he would always be stiff in that arm, and be
+unable to raise it above the breast. He was irritable and morose.
+
+He watched Mehetabel suspiciously and with mistrust of her
+intentions. What did she know? What did she surmise? If she
+thought that he had attempted to put an end to her life, would she
+retaliate? In his suspicion he preferred to have his sister attend
+to him, and Sarah consented to do for him, in his sickness, what
+he required, not out of fraternal affection, but as a means of
+slighting the young wife, and of observing the relations that
+subsisted between her and Jonas.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe was much puzzled by what had taken place. Her
+brother's manner had roused her alarm. She knew that he had gone
+forth with his jealousy lashed to fury. She had herself kindled the
+fire. Then he had come upon Mehetabel and Iver on the Moor, she
+could not doubt. How otherwise explain the knowledge of the
+accident which led Iver to bring the surgeon to the assistance of
+her brother?
+
+But the manner in which the accident had occurred and the occasion
+of it, all of this was dark to her. Then the arrival of Jonas alone,
+and his reticence relative to his wife, till she had asked about
+her; also his extraordinary statement, his manifest terror; and the
+silence of Mehetabel on her reappearance, all this proved a mystery
+involving the events of the night, that Sarah Rocliffe was desirous
+to unravel.
+
+She found that her every effort met with a rebuff from Jonas,
+and elicited nothing from Mehetabel, who left her in the same
+uncertainty as was Bideabout, whether she knew anything, or
+suspected anything beyond the fact that she had fallen insensible
+into the water. She had fallen grasping the gun, which had become
+entangled in some bushes, and this together with the water weeds
+had sustained her. When she recovered consciousness she had drawn
+herself out of the marsh by means of the gun, and had seated
+herself under an old pine tree, till her senses were sufficiently
+clear. Thereupon she had made the best of her way homeward.
+
+What did she think of Jonas for having left her in the water? asked
+Mrs. Rocliffe.
+
+Mehetabel answered, simply, that she had not thought about it. Wet,
+cold, and faint, she had possessed no idea save how to reach home.
+
+There was much talk in the Punch-Bowl as well as throughout the
+neighborhood relative to what had taken place, and many forms were
+assumed by the rumor as it circulated. Most men understood well
+enough that Jonas had gone after the Peperharow deer, and was
+attempting to forestall others--therefore, serve him right, was
+their judgment, however he came by his accident.
+
+Iver left Thursley on the day following and returned to Guildford.
+The surgeon staying at the Ship Inn continued his visits to the
+Punch-Bowl, as long as he was there, and then handed his patient
+over to the local practitioner.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was little better informed than the rest of the
+inhabitants of Thursley, for her son had not told her anything
+about the accident to Jonas, more than was absolutely necessary;
+and to all her inquiries returned a laughing answer that as he had
+not shot the Broom-Squire he could not inform her how the thing
+was done.
+
+She was too much engaged so long as the visitors were in the
+house, to be able to leave it; and Mehetabel did not come near her.
+
+As soon, however, as she was more free, she started in her little
+trap for the Punch-Bowl, and arrived at a time when Jonas was not
+at home.
+
+This exactly suited her. She had Mehetabel to herself, and could
+ask her any questions she liked without restraint.
+
+"My dear Matabel," she said, "I've had a trying time of it, with
+the house full, and only Polly to look to for everything. Will you
+believe me--on Sunday I said I would give the gentlemen a little
+plum-pudding. I mixed it myself, and told Polly to boil it, whilst
+I went to church. Of course, I supposed she would do it properly,
+but with those kind of people one must take nothing for granted."
+
+"Did she spoil the pudding, mother?"
+
+"Oh, no--the pudding was all right."
+
+"Then what harm was done?"
+
+"She spoiled my best nightcap."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Boiled the puddin' in it, because she couldn't find a bag. I'll
+never get it proper white again, nor the frills starched and made
+up. And there is the canary bird, too."
+
+"What of that, mother?"
+
+"My dear, I told Polly to clean out the cage."
+
+"And did she not do it?"
+
+"Oh, yes--only too well. She dipped it in a pan of hot water and
+soda--and the bird in it."
+
+"What--the canary--is it dead?"
+
+"Of course it is, and bleached white too. That girl makes the water
+so thick wi' soda you could stand a spoon up in it. She used five
+pounds in two days."
+
+"Oh, the poor canary!" Mehetabel was greatly troubled for her pet.
+
+"I don't quite understand the ways o' Providence," said Mrs.
+Verstage. "I don't suppose I shall till the veil be lifted. I
+understand right enough why oysters ain't given eyes--lest they
+should see those who are opening their mouths to eat 'em. And if
+geese were given wings like swallows, they wouldn't bide with us
+over Michaelmas. But why Providence should ha' denied domestic
+servants the gift of intelligence wherewith we, their masters and
+mistresses, be so largely endowed--that beats me. Well," in a tone
+of resignation, "one will know that some day, doubtless."
+
+After a bit of conversation about the progress of Jonas to
+convalescence, and the chance of his being able to use his arm,
+Mrs. Verstage approached the topic uppermost in her mind.
+
+"I should like to hear all about it, from your own mouth, Matabel.
+There is such a number of wonderful tales going round, all
+contradictory, and so, of course, all can't be true. Some even
+tell that you fired the gun and wounded Jonas. But that is
+ridiculous, as I said to Maria Entiknap. And actually one story
+is that my Iver was in it somehow. Of course, I knew he heard
+there was an accident. You told him when you was fetched away.
+Who fetched you from the Ship? I left you in the kitchen."
+
+"Oh, mother," said Mehetabel, "all the events of that terrible
+night are confused in my head, and I don't know where to begin--nor
+what is true and what fancy, so I'd as lief say nothing about it."
+
+"If you can't trust me--" said Mrs. Verstage, somewhat offended.
+
+"I could trust you with anything," answered Mehetabel hastily.
+"Indeed, it is not that, but somehow I fell, and I suppose with
+fright, and a blow I got in falling, every event got so mixed with
+fancies and follies that I don't know where truth begins and fancy
+ends. For that reason I do not wish to speak."
+
+"Now look here," said Mrs. Verstage, "I've brought you a present
+such as I wouldn't give to any one. It's a cookery book, as was
+given me. See what I have wrote, or got Simon to write for me,
+on the fly-leaf.
+
+  "'Susanna Verstage, her book,
+   Give me grace therein to look.
+   Not only to look, but to understand,
+   For learning is better than houses and land.
+   When land is gone, and money is spent,
+   Then learning is most excellent.'
+
+"And the reason why I part with this Matabel, is because of that
+little conversation we had together the other day at the Ship.
+I don't believe as how you and Bideabout get along together first
+rate. Now I know men, their ins and outs, pretty completely, and
+I know that the royal road to their affections is through their
+stomachs. You use this book of receipts, they're not extravagant
+ones, but they are all good, and in six months Jonas will just
+about worship you."
+
+"Mother," said Mehetabel, after thanking her, "you are very kind."
+
+"Not at all. I've had experience in husbands, and you're, so to
+speak, raw to it. They are humorous persons, are men, you have to
+give in a little here and take a good slice there. If you give up
+to them there's an end to all peace and quietness. If you don't
+give in enough the result is the same. What all men want is to make
+their wives their slaves. You know, I suppose, how Gilly Cheel,
+the younger, got his name of Jamaica?"
+
+"I do not think I do."
+
+"Why he and his Bessy are always quarrelling! Neither will yield
+to the other. At last, by some means, Gilly got wind that in West
+Indies, there are slaves, and he thought, if he could only get
+out there with Bess that he'd be able to enslave her and make her
+do what he wished. So he pretended that he'd got a little money
+left him in Jamaica, and must needs go out there and settle. She
+said she wouldn't go, and he had no call to go there, except just
+for the sake of getting her under control. Then he talked big of
+the beautiful climate, and all the cooking done by the sun, and no
+washing needed, because clothing are unnecessary, and not only
+no washing, but no mending neither, no stockings to knit, no buttons
+to put on--a Paradise for wimen, said Gilly--but still he couldn't
+get Bessy to hear of going out to the West Indies. At last, how it
+was, I can't say, but she got wind of the institootion of slavery
+there, and then she guessed at once what was working in Gilly's
+mind. Since that day he's always gone by the name of Jamaica, and
+fellows that want to tease him shout, 'Taken your passage yet for
+you and Bessy to Jamaica?'"
+
+"My dear mother," said Mehetabel, "I should not mind being a slave
+in my husband's house, and to him, if there were love to beautify
+and sanctify it. But it would not be slavery then, and now I am
+afraid that you, mother, have perhaps took it unkind that I did not
+tell you more about that shot. If so, let me make all good again
+between us by telling you a real secret. There's no one else knows
+it."
+
+"What is that?" asked the hostess eagerly.
+
+Mehetabel was nervous and colored.
+
+"May I tell you in your ear?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage extended an ear to her, she would have applied both
+to Mehetabel's mouth had that been feasible.
+
+The young wife, with diffidence, whispered something.
+
+A beam of satisfaction lit up the old woman's face.
+
+"That's famous. That's just as it ort. With that and with the
+cookery book, Jonas'll just adore you. There's nuthin' like that
+for makin' a home homely."
+
+"And you'll come to me?"
+
+"My dear, if alive and well, without fail."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+POISON.
+
+
+The Broom-Squire did not recover from his wound with the rapidity
+that might have been expected. His blood was fevered, his head in
+a whirl. He could not forget what his sister had said to him
+relative to Mehetabel and Iver. Jealousy gnawed in his heart like
+a worm. That the painter should admire her for her beauty--that
+was nothing--who did not admire her? Had she not been an object
+of wonder and praise ever since she had bloomed into womanhood at
+the Ship? That he was envied his beautiful wife did not surprise
+him. He valued her because begrudged him by others.
+
+He looked at himself in a broken glass he had, and sneered and
+laughed when he saw his own haggard face, and contrasted it with
+that of the artist. It was true that he had seen nothing to render
+him suspicious, when Iver came to his house, but he had not always
+been present. He had actually forced his wife against her wishes
+to go to the tavern where Iver was, had thrust her, so to speak,
+into his arms.
+
+He remembered her call in the Marsh to the spirits to rid her of
+some one, and he could not believe her explanation. He remembered
+how that to save Iver, she had thrust the muzzle of the gun against
+her own side, and had done battle with him for mastery over the
+weapon. Incapable of conceiving of honor, right feeling, in any
+breast, he attributed the worst motives to Mehetabel--he held her
+to be sly, treacherous, and false.
+
+Jonas had never suffered from any illness, and he made a bad
+patient now. He was irritable, and he spared neither his wife,
+who attended to him with self-denying patience, nor his sister,
+who came in occasionally. Mehetabel hoped that his pain and
+dependence on her might soften his rancorous spirit, and break
+down his antagonism towards her and every one. The longer his
+recovery was delayed, the more unrestrained became his temper.
+He spared no one. It seemed as though his wife's patience and
+attention provoked into virulent activity all that was most venomous
+and vicious in his nature. Possibly he was aware that he was
+unworthy of her, but could not or would not admit this to himself.
+His hatred of Iver grew to frenzy. He felt that he was morally the
+inferior of both the artist and of his own wife. When he was at
+their mercy they had spared his life, and that life of his lay
+between them and happiness. Had he not sought both theirs? Would
+he have scrupled to kill either had one of them been in the same
+helpless position at his feet?
+
+He had come forth in sorry plight from that struggle, and now he
+was weakened by his accident, and unable to watch Mehetabel as
+fully as he would have wished.
+
+The caution spoken by the surgeon that he should not retard his
+recovery by impatience and restlessness was unheeded.
+
+He was wakeful at night, tossing on his bed from side to side. He
+complained of this to the surgeon, who, on his next visit, brought
+him a bottle of laudanum.
+
+"Now look here," said he; "I will not put this in your hands. You
+are too hasty and unreliable to be entrusted with it. Your wife
+shall have it. It is useful, if taken in small quantities, just a
+drop or two, but if too much be taken by accident, then you will
+fall into a sleep from which there is no awaking. I can quite
+fancy that you in your irritable mood, because you could not sleep,
+would give yourself an overdose, and then--there would be the
+deuce to pay."
+
+"And suppose that my wife were to overdose me?" asked the sick man
+suspiciously.
+
+"That is not a suspicion I can entertain," said the surgeon, with
+a bow of his head in the direction of Mehetabel, "I have found her
+thoughtful, exact, and trustworthy. And so you have found her, I
+will swear, Mr. Kink, in all your domestic life?"
+
+The Broom-Squire muttered something unintelligible, and turned a
+way.
+
+When the laudanum arrived, he took the bottle and examined it. A
+death's head and crossbones were on the label. He took out the
+cork, and smelt the contents of the phial.
+
+Though worn out with want of sleep he refused to touch any of the
+sedative. He was afraid to trust Mehetabel with the bottle, and
+afraid to mix his own portion lest in his nervous excitement he
+might overdo the dose.
+
+Neither would he suffer the laudanum to be administered to him by
+his sister. As he said to her with a sneer, "A drop too much would
+give you a chance of my farm, which you won't have so long as I
+live."
+
+"How can you talk like that?" said Sally. "Haven't you got a wife?
+Wouldn't the land go to her?"
+
+The land, the house--to Mehetabel, and with his removal, then the
+way would be opened for Iver as well.
+
+The thought was too much for Jonas. He left his bed, and carried
+the phial of opium to a little cupboard he had in the wall, that
+he kept constantly locked. This he now opened, and within it he
+placed the bottle. "Better endure my sleepless nights than be
+rocked to sleep by those who have no wish to bid me a good morrow."
+
+Seeing that Mehetabel observed him he said, "The key I never let
+from my hands."
+
+He would not empty the phial out of the window, because--he thought
+on the next visit of the surgeon he might get him to administer
+the dose himself, and he would have to pay for the laudanum,
+consequently to waste it would be to throw away two shillings.
+
+It chanced one day, when the Broom-Squire was somewhat better, and
+had begun to go about, that old Clutch was taken ill. The venerable
+horse was off his feed, and breathed heavily. He stood with head
+down, looking sulky.
+
+Bideabout was uneasy. He was attached to the horse, even though
+he beat it without mercy. Perhaps this attachment was mainly
+selfish. He knew that if old Clutch died he would have to replace
+him, and the purchase of a horse would be a serious expense.
+Accordingly he did all in his power to recover his steed, short
+of sending for a veterinary surgeon. He hastened to his cupboard
+in the upper chamber, and unlocked it, to find a draught that he
+might administer. When he had got the bottle, in his haste, being
+one-handed, he forgot to re-lock and remove the key. Possibly he
+did not observe that his wife was seated in the window, engaged in
+needlework. Indeed, for some time she had been very busily engaged
+in the making of certain garments, not intended for herself nor
+for her husband. She worked at these in the upper chamber, where
+there was more light than below in the kitchen, where, owing to
+the shade of the trees, the room was somewhat dark, and where,
+moreover, she was open to interruption.
+
+When Bideabout left the room, Mehetabel looked up, and saw that he
+had not fastened the cupboard. The door swung open, and exposed
+the contents. She rose, laid the linen she was hemming on the
+chair, and went to the open press, not out of inquisitiveness,
+but in order to fasten the door.
+
+She stood before the place where he kept his articles of value,
+and mustered them, without much interest. There were bottles of
+drenches for cattle, and pots of ointment for rubbing on sprains,
+and some account books. That was all.
+
+But among the bottles was one that was small, of dark color, with
+an orange label on it marked with a boldly drawn skull and
+crossbones, and the letters printed on it, "Poison."
+
+This was the phial containing the medicine, the name of which she
+could not recall, that the doctor had given to her husband to take
+in the event of his sleeplessness continuing to trouble him. The
+word "poison" was frightening, and the death's head still more so.
+But she recalled what the surgeon had said, that the result of
+taking a small dose would be to encourage sleep, and of an overdose
+to send into a sleep from which there would be no awaking.
+
+Mehetabel could hardly repress a smile, though it was a sad one,
+as she thought of her husband's suspicions lest she should misuse
+the draught on him. But her bosom heaved, and her heart beat as
+she continued to look at it.
+
+She needed but to extend her hand and she had the means whereby
+all her sorrows and aches of heart would be brought to an end.
+It was not as if there were any prospect before her of better
+times. If sickness had failed to soften and sweeten the temper of
+the Broom-Squire, then nothing would do it. Before her lay a hideous
+future of self-abnegation, or daily, hourly misery, under his
+ill-nature; of continuous torture caused by his cruel tongue. And
+her heart was not whole. She still thought of Iver, recalled his
+words, his look, the clasp of his arm, his kiss on her lips.
+
+Would the time ever arrive when she could think of him without her
+pulse bounding, and a film forming over her eyes?
+
+Would it not be well to end this now? She had but to sip a few
+drops from this bottle and then lay her weary head, and still more
+weary heart, on the bed, and sleep away into the vast oblivion!
+
+She uncorked the bottle and smelt the laudanum. The odor was
+peculiar, it was unlike any other with which she was acquainted.
+She even touched the cork with her tongue. The taste was not
+unpleasant.
+
+Not a single drop had been taken from the phial. It was precisely
+in the condition in which it had arrived.
+
+If she did not yield to the temptation, what was it that stayed
+her? Not the knowledge that the country of the Gergesenes lay
+southeast of the Lake of Tiberias, otherwise called the Sea of
+Galilee; nor that the "lily of the field" was the Scarlet Martagon;
+nor that the latitude and longitude of Jerusalem were 31 deg. 47
+min. by 53 deg. 15 min., all which facts had been acquired by her
+in the Sunday-school; but that which arrested her hand and made
+her replace the cork and bottle was the sight of a little white
+garment lying on the chair from which she had risen.
+
+Just then she heard her husband's voice, and startled and confused
+by what had passed through her mind, she locked the cupboard, and
+without consideration slipped the key into her pocket. Then
+gathering up the little garment she went into another room.
+
+Bideabout did not miss the key, or remember that he had not locked
+up the cupboard, for three days. The bottle with drench he had
+retained in the stable.
+
+When the old horse recovered, or showed signs of convalescence,
+then Bideabout took the bottle, went to his room, and thrust his
+hand into his pocket for the key that he might open the closet and
+replace the drench.
+
+Then, for the first time, did he discover his loss. He made no
+great disturbance about it when he found out that the key was gone,
+as he took for granted that it had slipped from his pocket in the
+stable, or on his way through the yard to it. In fact, he discovered
+that there was a hole in his pocket, through which it might easily
+have worked its way.
+
+As he was unable to find any other key that would fit the lock, he
+set to work to file an odd key down and adapt it to his purpose.
+Living as did the squatters, away from a town, or even a large
+village, they had learned to be independent of tradesmen, and to
+do most things for themselves.
+
+Nor did Mehetabel discover that she was in possession of the key
+till after her husband had made another that would fit. She had
+entirely forgotten having pocketed the original key. Indeed she
+never was conscious that she had done it. It was only when she
+saw him unlock the closet to put away the bottle of horse medicine
+that she asked herself what had been done with the key. Then she
+hastily put her hand into her pocket and found it.
+
+As Jonas had another, she did not think it necessary for her to
+produce the original and call down thereby on herself a torrent
+of abuse.
+
+She retained it, and thus access to the poison was possible to
+those two individuals under one roof.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+A THREAT.
+
+
+One Sunday, the first snow had fallen in large flakes, and as
+there had been no wind it had covered all things pretty evenly--it
+had laden the trees, many of which had not as yet shed their leaves.
+Mehetabel had not gone to church because of this snow; and Jonas
+had been detained at home for the same reason, though not from
+church. If he had gone anywhere it would have been to look for
+holly trees full of berries which he might cut for the Christmas
+sale of evergreens.
+
+Towards noon the sun suddenly broke out and revealed a world of
+marvellous beauty. Every bush and tree twinkled, and as the rays
+melted the snow the boughs stooped and shed their burdens in shining
+avalanches.
+
+Blackbirds were hopping in the snow, and the track of hares was
+distinguishable everywhere.
+
+As the sun burst in at the little window it illumined the beautiful
+face of Mehetabel and showed the delicate rose in her cheeks, and
+shone in her rich dark hair, bringing out a chestnut glow not
+usually visible in it.
+
+Jonas, who had been sitting at his table working at his accounts,
+looked up and saw his wife at the window contemplating the beauty
+of the scene. She had her hands clasped, and her thoughts seemed
+to be far away, though her eyes rested on the twinkling white world
+before her.
+
+Jonas, though ill-natured and captious, was fond of his wife, in
+his low, animal fashion, and had a coarse appreciation of her
+beauty. He was so far recovered from his accident that he could
+sleep and eat heartily, and his blood coursed as usual through
+his veins.
+
+The very jealousy that worked in him, and his hatred of Iver, and
+envy of his advantages of youth, good looks, and ease of manner,
+made him eager to assert his proprietorship over his wife.
+
+He stepped up to her, without her noticing his approach, put his
+right arm round her waist and kissed her.
+
+She started, and thrust him back. She was far away in thought,
+and the action was unintentional. In very truth she had been
+dreaming of Iver, and the embrace chimed in with her dream, and
+the action of shrinking and repulsion was occasioned by the recoil
+of her moral nature from any undue familiarity attempted by Iver.
+
+But the Broom-Squire entirely misconceived her action. With
+quivering voice and flashing eyes, he said--
+
+"Oh, if this had been Iver, the daub-paint, you would not have
+pushed me away."
+
+Her eyebrows contracted, and a slight start did not pass unnoticed.
+
+"I know very well," he said, "of whom you were thinking. Deny it
+if you can? Your mind was with Iver Verstage."
+
+She was silent. The blood rushed foaming through her head; but she
+looked Bideabout steadily in the face.
+
+"It is guilt which keeps you silent," he said, bitterly.
+
+"If you are so sure that I thought of him, why did you ask?" she
+replied, and now the color faded out of her face.
+
+Jonas laughed mockingly.
+
+"It serves me right," he said in a tone of resentment against
+himself. "I always knew what women were; that they were treacherous
+and untrue; and the worst of all are those who think themselves
+handsome; and the most false and vicious of all are such as have
+been reared in public-houses, the toast of drunken sots."
+
+"Why, then, did you take me?"
+
+"Because I was a fool. Every man commits a folly once in his life.
+Even Solomon, the wisest of men, committed that folly; aye, and
+many a time, too, for of wives he had plenty. But then he was a
+king, and folly such as that mattered not to him. He could cut
+off the head of, or shoot down any man who even looked at or spoke
+a word to any of his wives. And if one of these were untrue to him,
+he would put her in a sack and sink her in the Dead Sea, and--served
+her right. To think that I--that I--the shrewd Broom-Squire, should
+have been so bewitched and bedeviled as to be led into the bog of
+marriage! Now I suffer for it." He turned savagely on his wife, and
+said: "Have you forgotten that you vowed fidelity to me?"
+
+"And you did you not swear to show me love?"
+
+He broke into a harsh laugh.
+
+"Love! That is purely! And just now, when I attempted to snatch a
+kiss, you struck me and thrust me off, because I was Jonas Kink,
+and not the lover you looked for?"
+
+"Jonas!" said Mehetabel, and a flame of indignation started into
+her cheek, and burnt there on each cheek-bone. "Jonas, you are
+unjust. I swore to love you, and Heaven can answer for me that I
+have striven hard to force the love to come where it does not exist
+naturally. Can you sink a well in the sand-hill, and compel the
+water to bubble up? Can you drain away the moor and bid it blossom
+like a garden? I cannot love you--when you do everything to make me
+shrink from you. You esteem nothing, no one, that is good. You
+sneer at everything that is holy; you disbelieve in everything that
+is honest; you value not the true, and you have no respect for
+suffering. I do not deny that I have no love for you--that there is
+much in you that makes me draw away--as from something hideous.
+Why do not you try on your part to seek my love? Instead of that,
+you take an ingenious pleasure in stamping out every spark of
+affection, in driving away every atom of regard, that I am trying
+so hard to acquire for you. Is all the strivin' to be on my
+side?--all the thought and care to be with me? A very little pains
+on your part, some small self-control, and we should get to find
+common ground on which we could meet and be happy. As to Iver
+Verstage, both he and I know well enough that we can never belong
+to each other."
+
+"Oh, I stand between you?"
+
+"Yes you and my duty."
+
+"Much you value either."
+
+"I know my duty and will do it. Iver Verstage and I can never
+belong to each other. We know it, and we have parted forever. I
+have not desired to be untrue to you in heart; but I did not know
+what was possible and what impossible in this poor, unhappy heart
+of mine when I promised to love you. I did not know what love
+meant at the time. Mother told me it grew as a matter of course
+in married life, like chickweed in a garden."
+
+"Am I gone crazed, or have you?" exclaimed Bideabout, snorting
+with passion. "You have parted with Iver quite so but only till
+after my death, which you will compass between you. I know that
+well enough. It was because I knew that, that I would not suffer
+you to give me doses of laudanum. A couple of drops, where one
+would suffice, and this obstruction to your loves was removed."
+
+"No, never!" exclaimed Mehetabel, with flashing eye.
+
+"You women are like the glassy pools in the Moor. There is a smooth
+face, and fair flowers floating thereon, and underneath the toad
+and the effect, the water-rat and festering poison. I shall know
+how to drive out of you the devil that possesses you this spirit
+of rebellion and passion for Iver Verstage."
+
+"You may do that," said Mehetabel, recovering her self-mastery, "if
+you will be kind, forbearing, and gentle."
+
+"It is not with kindness and gentleness that I shall do it,"
+scoffed the Broom-Squire. "The woman that will not bend must be
+broken. It is not I who will have to yield in this house I, who
+have been master here these twenty years. I shall know how to bring
+you to your senses."
+
+He was in foaming fury. He shook his fist, and his short hair
+bristled.
+
+Mehetabel shrank from him as from a maniac.
+
+"You have no need to threaten," she said, with sadness in her tone.
+"I am prepared for anything. Life is not so precious to me that I
+care for it."
+
+"Then why did you crawl out of the marsh?"
+
+She looked at him with wide-open eyes.
+
+"Make an end of my wretchedness if you will. Take a knife, and
+drive it into my heart. Go to your closet, and bring me that poison
+you have there, and pour it between my lips. Thrust me, if you
+will, into the Marsh. It is all one to me. I cannot love you unless
+you change your manners of thought and act and speech altogether."
+
+"Bah!" sneered he, "I shall not kill you. But I shall make you
+understand to fear me, if you cannot love me." He gripped her
+wrist. "Whether alive or dead, there will be no escape from me. I
+will follow you, track you in all you do, and if I go underground
+shall fasten on you, in spirit, and drag you underground as well.
+When you married me you became mine forever."
+
+A little noise made both turn.
+
+At the door was Sally Rocliffe, her malevolent face on the watch,
+observing all that passed.
+
+"What do you want here?" asked the Broom-Squire.
+
+"Nuthin', Jonas, but to know what time it is. Our clock is all
+wrong when it does go, and now, with the cold and snow, I suppose,
+it has stopped altogether."
+
+Sally looked at the clock that stood in the comer, Jonas turned
+sharply on his heel, took his hat, and went forth into the backyard
+of his farm.
+
+"So," said Mrs. Rocliffe, "my brother is in fear of his life of
+you. I know very well how he got the shot in his elbow. It was not
+your fault that it did not lodge in his head. And now he dare not
+take his medicine from your hands lest you should put poison into
+it. That comes of marrying into a gallows family."
+
+Then slowly she walked away.
+
+Mehetabel sank into the window seat.
+
+However glorious the snow-clad, sunlit world might be without it
+was nothing to her. Within her was darkness and despair.
+
+She looked at her wrist, marked with the pressure of her husband's
+fingers. No tears quenched the fire in her eyes. She sat and gazed
+stonily before her, and thought on nothing. It was as though her
+heart was frozen and buried under snow; as though her eyes looked
+over the moor, also frozen and white, but without the sun flooding
+it. Above hung gray and threatening clouds.
+
+Thus she sat for many minutes, almost without breathing, almost
+without pulsation.
+
+Then she sprang to her feet with a sob in her throat, and hastened
+about the house to her work. There was, as it were, a dark sea
+tumbling, foaming, clashing within her, and horrible thoughts
+rose up out of this sea and looked at her in ghostly fashion and
+filled her with terror. Chief among these was the thought that
+the death of Jonas could and would free her from this hopeless
+wretchedness. Had the bullet indeed entered his head then now she
+would have been enduring none of this insult, none of these
+indignities, none of this daily torture springing out of his
+jealousy, his suspicion, and his resentfulness.
+
+And at the same time appeared the vision of Iver Verstage. She
+could measure Jonas by him. How infinitely inferior in every
+particular was Jonas to the young painter, the friend of her
+childhood.
+
+But Mehetabel knew that such thoughts could but breed mischief.
+They were poison germs that would infect her own life, and make
+her not only infinitely wretched but degrade her in her own eyes.
+She fought against them. She beat them down as though she were
+battling with serpents that rose up out of the dust to lash
+themselves around her and sting her. The look at them had an
+almost paralyzing effect. If she did not use great effort they
+would fascinate her, and draw her on till they filled her whole
+mind and lured her from thought to act.
+
+She had not been instructed in much that was of spiritual advantage
+when a child in the Sunday-school. The Rector, as has already been
+intimated, had been an excellent and kindly man, who desired to
+stand well with everybody, and who was always taking up one nostrum
+after another as a panacea for every spiritual ill. And at the time
+when Matabel was under instruction the nostrum was the physical
+geography of the Holy Land. The only thing the parson did not teach
+was a definite Christian belief, because he had entered into a
+compromise with a couple of Dissenting farmers not to do so, and to
+confine the instruction to such matters as could not be disputed.
+Moreover, he was, himself, mentally averse to everything that
+savored of dogma in religion. He would not give his parishioners
+the Bread of Life, but would supply them with any amount of stones
+geographically tabulated according to their strata.
+
+However, Matabel had acquired a clear sense of right and wrong, at
+a little dame's school she had attended, as also from Mrs. Verstage;
+and now this definite knowledge of right and wrong stood her in
+good stead. She saw that the harboring of such thoughts was wrong,
+and she therefore resolutely resisted them. "He said," she sighed,
+when the battle was over, "that he would follow me through life and
+death, and finally drag me underground. But, can he be as bad as
+his word?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+A HERALD OF STRIFE.
+
+
+The winter passed without any change in the situation. Iver did not
+come home for Christmas, although he heard that his mother was
+failing in health and strength. There was much amusement in
+Guildford, and he reasoned that it would be advantageous to his
+business to take part in all the entertainments, and accept every
+invitation made him to the house of a pupil. Thursley was not so
+remote but that he could go there at any time. He was establishing
+himself in the place, and must strike root on all sides.
+
+This was a disappointment to Mrs. Verstage. Reluctantly she admitted
+that her health was breaking down, and that, moreover, whilst Simon
+remained tough and unshaken. The long-expected and hoped for time
+when Iver should become a permanent inmate of the house, and she
+would spend her declining years in love and admiration, had vanished
+to the region of hopes impossible of fulfilment.
+
+Simon Verstage took the decline of his wife's powers very
+philosophically. He had been so accustomed to her prognostications
+of evil, and harangues on her difficulties, that he was case-hardened,
+and did not realize that there was actual imminence of a separation
+by death.
+
+"It's all her talk," he would say to a confidential friend; "she's
+eighteen years younger nor me, and so has eighteen to live after
+I'm gone. There ain't been much took out of her: she's not one as
+has had a large family. There was Iver, no more; and women are
+longer-lived than men. She talks, but it's all along of Polly that
+worrits her. Let Polly alone and she'll get into the ways of the
+house in time; but Sanna be always at her about this and about that,
+and it kinder bewilders the wench, and she don't know whether to
+think wi' her toes, and walk wi' her head."
+
+In the Punch-Bowl the relations that subsisted between the
+Broom-Squire and his wife were not more cordial than before. They
+lived in separate worlds. He was greatly occupied with his solicitor
+in Godalming, to whom he was constantly driving over. He saw little
+of Mehetabel, save at his meals, and then conversation was limited
+on his part to recrimination and sarcastic remarks that cut as a
+razor. She made no reply, and spoke only of matters necessary. To
+his abusive remarks she had no answer, a deepening color, a
+clouding eye showed that she felt what he said. And it irritated
+the man that she bore his insolence meekly. He would have preferred
+that she should have retorted. As it was, so quiet was the house
+that Sally Rocliffe sneered at her brother for living in it with
+Mehetabel, "just like two turtle doves,--never heard in the
+Punch-Bowl of such a tender couple. Since that little visit to
+the Moor you've been doin' nothin' but billin and cooin'." Then
+she burst into a verse of an old folks song, singing in harsh
+tones--
+
+  "A woman that hath a bad husband, I find
+   By scolding won't make him the better.
+   So let him be easy, contented in mind,
+   Nor suffer his foibles to fret her.
+   Let every good woman her husband adore,
+   Then happy her lot, though t be humble and poor.
+   We live like two turtles, no sorrows we know,
+   And, fair girl! mind this when you marry."
+
+"What happens, in my house is no concern of yours, Sally," Jonas
+would answer sharply. "If some folk would mind their own affairs
+they wouldn't be all to sixes and sevens. You look out that you
+don't get into trouble yet over that foolish affair of Thomas and
+the Countess. I don't fancy you've come to the end of that yet."
+
+So the winter passed, and spring as well, and then came summer,
+and just before the scythe cut the green swath, for the hay harvest,
+Mehetabel became a mother.
+
+The child that was born to her was small and delicate, it lacked the
+sturdiness of its father and of the mother. So frail, indeed, did
+the little life seem at first, that grave doubts were entertained
+whether the babe would live to be taken to church to be baptized.
+
+Mehetabel did not have the comfort of the presence of Mrs. Verstage.
+
+During the winter that good woman's malady advanced with rapid
+strides, and by summer she was confined to her room, and very
+generally to her bed.
+
+To Mehetabel it was not only a grief that she was deprived of the
+assistance of her "mother," but also that, owing to her own
+condition, she was unable to attend on the failing woman. Deprived
+of the help of Mrs. Verstage, Mehetabel was thrown on that of her
+sister-in-law, Sally Rocliffe. Occasions of this sort call forth
+all that is good and tender in woman, and Sally was not at bottom
+either a bad or heartless woman. She had been embittered by a
+struggle with poverty that had been incessant, and had been allowed
+free use of her tongue by a husband, all whose self-esteem had been
+taken out of him by his adventure with the "Countess Charlotte,"
+and the derision which had rained on him since. She was an envious
+and a spiteful woman, and bore a bitter grudge against Mehetabel
+for disappointing her ambition of getting her brother's farm
+for her own son Samuel. But on the occasion when called to the
+assistance of her sister-in-law, she laid aside her malevolence,
+and the true humanity in the depths of her nature woke up. She
+showed Mehetabel kindness, though in ungracious manner.
+
+Jonas exhibited no interest in the accession to his family, he
+would hardly look at the babe, and refused to kiss it.
+
+At Mehetabel's request he came up to see her, in her room; he stood
+aloof, and showed no token of kindliness and consideration. Sarah
+went downstairs.
+
+"Jonas," said the young mother, "I have wished to have a word with
+you. You have been very much engaged, I suppose, and could not well
+spare time to see me before."
+
+"Well, what have you to say? Come to the point."
+
+"That is easily done. Let all be well between us. Let the past be
+forgotten, with its differences and misunderstandings. And now
+that this little baby is given to us, let it be a bond of love
+and reconciliation, and a promise of happiness to us both."
+
+The Broom-Squire looked sideways at his wife, and said, sulkily,
+"You remind one of Sanna Verstage's story of Gilly Cheel. He'd
+been drinking and making a racket in the house, and was so
+troublesome that she had to turn him out into the street by the
+shoulders. What did he do, but set his back to the door, and kick
+with his heels till he'd stove in some of the panels. Then he went
+to the windows, and beat in the panes, and when he'd made a fine
+wreck of it all, he stuck in his head, and said, 'This is to tell
+you, Sanna Verstage, as how I forgive you in a Christian spirit.'"
+
+"Bideabout! What has that to do with me?"
+
+"Everything. Have you not wronged me, sought to compass my death,
+given your love away from me to another, crossed me in all my
+wishes?"
+
+"No, Jonas; I have done none of this. I never sought your death,
+only the removal of one who made happiness to me in my home
+impossible. It was for you, because of you, that I desired his
+removal. As for my love, I have tried to give it all to you, but
+you must not forget that already from infancy, from the first
+moment that I can remember anything, Iver was my companion, that
+I was taught to look up to him, and to love him. But, indeed, I
+needed no teachin' in that. It came naturally, just as the
+buttercups in the meadow in spring, and the blush on the heather
+in July. I had not seen him for many years, and I did not forget
+him for all that. But I never had a thought of him other than as
+an old playmate. He returned home, the very day we were married,
+Jonas, as you remember. And since then, he often came to the
+Punch-Bowl. You had nothin' against that. I began to feel like the
+meadow when the fresh spring sun shines on it, that all the dead
+or sleepin' roots woke up, and are strong again, or as the heather,
+that seemed dry and lifeless, the buds come once more. But I knew
+it must not be, and I fought against it; and I went to Thor's Stone
+for that reason, and for none other."
+
+"A likely tale," sneered Jonas.
+
+"Yes, Bideabout, it is a likely tale; it is the only tale at all
+likely concerning an honest heart such as mine. If there be truth
+and uprightness in you, you will believe me. That I have gone
+through a great fight I do not deny. That I have been driven almost
+to despair, is also true. That I have cried out for help--that you
+know, for you heard me, and I was heard."
+
+"Yes--in that a lump of lead was sent into my shoulder."
+
+"No, Jonas, in that this little innocent was given to my arms. You
+need doubt me no more: you need fear for me and yourself no longer.
+I have no mistrust in myself at all now that I have this." Lovingly,
+with full eyes, the mother held up the child, then clasped it to
+her bosom, and covered the little head and tiny hands with kisses.
+
+"What has that to do with all that has been between us?" asked
+Bideabout, sneeringly.
+
+"It has everything to do," answered Mehetabel. "It is a little
+physician to heal all our wounds with its gentle hand. It is a
+tiny sower to strew love and the seeds of happiness in our united
+lives. It is a little herald angel that appears to announce to us
+peace and goodwill."
+
+"I dun know," muttered Jonas. "It don't seem like to be any of
+that."
+
+"You have not looked in the little face, felt the little hands,
+as I have. Why, if I had any ache and pain, those wee fingers
+would with their touch drive all away. But indeed, Jonas, since
+it came I have had no ache, no pain at all. All looks to me like
+sunshine and sweet summer weather. Do you know what mother said to
+me, many months ago, when first I told her what I was expecting?"
+
+"Dun know that I care to hear."
+
+"She gave me a cookery book, and she said to me that when the
+little golden beam shone into this dark house it would fill it
+with light, and that, with the baby and me--cooking you nice
+things to eat, as wouldn't cost much, but still nice, then all
+would be right and happy, and after all--Paradise, Jonas."
+
+"It seems to me as Sanna Verstage knows nuthin about it."
+
+"Jonas," pleaded Mehetabel, "give the little one a kiss. Take it
+in your arms."
+
+He turned away.
+
+"Jonas," she said, in a tone of discouragement, after a pause, and
+after having held out the child to him in vain, and then taken it
+back to her bosom, "what are you stampin' for?"
+
+He was beating his foot on the flooring.
+
+"I want Sally to come up. I thought you had something to say, and
+it seems there is nuthin'."
+
+"Nothing, Jonas? Do not go. Do not leave me thus. This is the first
+time you have been here since this little herald of goodwill
+appeared in my sky. Do not go! Come to me. Put your hand in mine,
+say that all is love and peace between us, and there will be no
+more mistrust and hard words. I will do my duty by you to the very
+best of my power, but, oh, Jonas, this will be a light thing to
+accomplish if there be love. Without--it will be heavy indeed."
+
+He continued stamping. "Will Sally never come?"
+
+"Jonas! there is one thing more I desired to say, What is the name
+to be given to the little fellow? It is right you should give him
+one."
+
+"I!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, making for the stairs. "I! Call
+him any name you will, but not mine. Call him," he turned his mean
+face round, full of rancor, and with his lip drawn up on one side,
+"as you like--call him, if it please you--Iver."
+
+He went down the stairs muttering. What words more he said were
+lost in the noise of his feet.
+
+"Oh, my babe! my babe!" sobbed Mehetabel; "a herald not of goodwill
+but of wicked strife!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+A BEQUEST.
+
+
+As Mehetabel became strong, the better feeling towards her in the
+heart of Sally Rocliffe sank out of sight, and the old ill-humor
+and jealousy took the upper hand once more. It was but too obvious
+to the young mother that the woman would have been well content
+had the feeble flame of life in the child been extinguished. This
+little life stood between her son Samuel and the inheritance of the
+Kink's farm.
+
+Whatever was necessary for the child was done, but done grudgingly,
+and Mehetabel soon learned that the little being that clung to
+her, and drew the milk of life from her bosom, was without a
+friend except herself, in the Punch-Bowl. Jonas maintained a cold
+estrangement from both her and the babe, its aunt would have
+welcomed its death.
+
+The knowledge of this rendered her infant only more dear to
+Mehetabel. Hers was a loving nature, one that hungered and panted
+for love. She had clung as much as was allowed to the hostess at
+the inn. She had been prepared with all her heart to love the man
+to whom she had promised love. But this had been rendered difficult,
+if not impossible, by his conduct. She would have forgiven whatever
+wrong he had done her, had he shown the smallest token of affection
+for his child. Now that he refused the poor, helpless creature the
+least particle of the love that was its due, her heart that had
+expanded towards him, turned away and poured all its warmth on the
+child.
+
+And in love for it she was satisfied. She could dispense with the
+love of others. She thought, cared for, lived but for this one
+little object which engrossed her entire horizon, filled every
+corner of her heart.
+
+Marvellous is maternal love above every other love on earth,
+the most complete reflex of the love of the Creator for His
+creatures. In connubial love there is something selfish. It
+insists on reciprocity. In filial love there is an admixture
+of gratitude for treatment in the past. In maternal love there
+is nothing self-seeking, it is pure benevolence, giving, continuous
+giving, of time, of thought, of body labor, of sleep, of everything.
+It asks for nothing in return, it expects nothing.
+
+Under the power of this mighty love Mehetabel rapidly became strong,
+and bloomed. The color returned to her cheek, the brightness to her
+eye, the smile to her lips, and mirth to her heart.
+
+Whatever seeds of love for Iver had sprung up in her were smothered
+under the luxuriance of this new love that left in her soul no
+space for any other. She thought no more of Iver, for she had no
+thought for any one other than her child.
+
+She who had never had any one of her own round whom to throw her
+arms, and to clasp to her heart, had now this frail infant; and
+the love that might have been dispersed among many recipients was
+given entire to the child--a love without stint, a love without
+bounds, a love infinitely pure and holy as the love that reigns
+in Heaven. So completely absorbed was Mehetabel in her love of the
+child, that the ill-humors of Sarah Rocliffe affected her not, nor
+did the callousness of her husband deeply wound her. So absorbed
+was she, that she hardly gave a thought to Simon Verstage and
+Susanna, and it was with a pang of self-reproach that she received
+an urgent appeal from the latter to visit her, sent through a
+messenger, along with a request that she would bring her infant
+with her in the conveyance sent from the Ship Inn for the purpose.
+
+With readiness and at once Mehetabel obeyed the summons. There was
+a bright flush of pleasure in her cheek as she mounted to her place
+in the little cart, assisted by Joe Filmer, the ostler at the Ship,
+and folded her shawl about the living morsel that was all the world
+to her.
+
+"Well, upon my word," said Joe, "I think, Matabel, you've grown
+prettier than ever, and if Bideabout bain't a happy man, he's
+different constituted from most of us."
+
+Joe might well express his admiration. The young mother was
+singularly lovely now, with sufficient of the delicacy of her
+late confinement still on her, and with the glow of love and pride
+glorifying her face.
+
+She was very pleased to go to the Ship, not so much because she
+wanted to see the hostess, as because she desired to show her the
+babe.
+
+"How is mother?" she asked of Joe Filmer.
+
+The ostler shook his head.
+
+"I should say she hain't long to live. She changed terrible last
+week. If it weren't for her stories about Gilly Cheel, and one or
+another, one wouldn't believe it was the same woman. And the master,
+he is that composed over it all--it is wonderful, wonderful."
+
+Mehetabel was shocked. She was not prepared for this news, and the
+brightness went out of her face. She was even more alarmed and
+troubled when she saw Mrs. Verstage, on whose countenance the
+shadow of approaching death was plainly lying.
+
+But the hostess had lost none of the energy and directness of her
+character.
+
+"My dear Matabel," she said, "it's no use you wishin' an' hopin'.
+Wishin' an' hopin' never made puff paste without lard. I haven't
+got in me the one thing which could raise me up again--the power
+to shake off my complaint. That is gone from me. I thought for
+long I could fight it, and by not givin' way tire it out. You can
+do that with a stubborn horse, but not with a complaint such as
+mine. But there--no more about me, show me the young Broom-Squire."
+
+After the usual scene incident on the exhibition of a babe that is
+its mother's pride, a scene that every woman can fill in for
+herself, and which every man would ask to be excused to witness,
+Mrs. Verstage said: "Matabel, let there be no disguise between us.
+How do you and your husband stand to each other now?"
+
+"I would rather you did not ask me," was the young wife's answer,
+after some hesitation.
+
+"That tells me all," said the hostess. "I did hope that the birth
+of a little son or daughter would have made all right, assisted by
+the cookery book, but I see plainly that it has not. I have heard
+some sort of talks about it. Matabel, now that I stand, not with
+one, but with two feet on the brink of my grave, I view matters in
+a very different light from what I did before, and I do not mind
+tellin' you that I have come to the conclusion that I did a wrong
+thing in persuadin' you to take Bideabout. I have had this troublin'
+me for a long time, and it has not allowed me rest. I have not had
+much sleep of late, because of the pain, and because I always have
+been an active woman, and it puts me out to be a prisoner in my own
+room, and not able to get about. Well, Matabel, I have fretted a
+good deal over this, and have not been able to set my conscience at
+ease. When Polly knocked off the spout of my china teapot, I said
+to her, 'You must buy me another out of your wages.' She got one,
+but 'twasn't the same. It couldn't be the same. The fashion is gone
+out, and they don't make 'em as they did. It is the same with your
+marriage with Bideabout. The thing is done and can't be undone. So
+I need only consider how I can make it up in some other way."
+
+"Mother, pray say nothing more about this. God has given me my
+baby, and I am happy."
+
+"God has given you that," said Mrs. Verstage, "but I have given you
+nothing. I have done nothin' to make amends for the great wrong I
+did you, and which was the spoiling of your life. It is not much I
+can do, but do somethin' I must, and I will, or I shall not die
+happy. Now, my plan is this. I have saved some money. I have for
+many years been puttin' away for Iver, but he does not want it
+greatly. I intend to leave to you a hundred pounds."
+
+"Mother, I pray you do nothing of the kind.
+
+"I must do it, Matabel, to ease my mind."
+
+"Mother, it will make me miserable."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+Mehetabel did not answer.
+
+"I intend this hundred pounds to be your own, and I shall so leave
+it that it shall be yours, and yours only."
+
+"Mother, it will make matters worse." After some hesitation, and
+with a heightened color, she told Mrs. Verstage about the fifteen
+pounds given her on the wedding day by Simon. She told it in such
+a manner as to screen her husband to the utmost. "You know, mother,
+Jonas has high notions about duty, and thinks it not well that we
+should have separate purses. Of course he must judge in these
+matters, and he is, no doubt, right, whereas I am wrong. But, as he
+does hold this opinion, it would anger him were I to have this
+money, and I know what the end would be, that I should have to give
+it all up to him, so that there might be peace between us. I dare
+say he is right."
+
+"I have heard folks say that man should do the courtin' before
+marriage, and the woman after, but I don't hold with it. You may
+give way to them too much. There was Betsy Chivers was that mild
+and humoring to her husband that at last he made her do everything,
+even clean his teeth for him. The hundred pounds is for you, whether
+you wish to have it or not. It is of no use your sayin' another
+word."
+
+"Do you mind, if it were given instead to the baby? May it be left
+to him instead of me? Then there would not be the same difficulty?"
+
+"Certainly, if you like it; but you don't want me to leave him the
+use of it in his present condition. Why, he'd put it into his mouth
+for certain. There must be some one to look after it for him till
+he come of age, and take it upon himself, as the baptism service
+says."
+
+"There must, of course," said Mehetabel, meditatively.
+
+"Money, edged tools, and fire--these are the three things children
+mustn't meddle with. But it isn't children only as must be kept
+off money. Men are just as bad. They have a way of getting rid of
+it is just astonishin' to us females. They be just like jackdaws.
+I know them creeturs--I mean jackdaws, not men, come in at the
+winder and pull all the pins out of the cushion, and carry 'em off
+to line their nest with 'em. And men--they are terrible secretive
+with money. They can't leave a lump sum alone, but must be pickin
+at it, for all the world like Polly and currant cake, or raisin
+puddin'. As for men, they've exactly the same itchin after money.
+If I leave the hundred pounds to your little mite, and I'm willin'
+to do it, I must make some one trustee, and I don't fancy putting
+that upon Bideabout."
+
+"Of course Jonas would look to his own child's interests, yet--"
+
+"I know. There's a complaint some folks have, they're always eatin'
+and you can never see as their food has profited them. It's so
+with Bideabout--he is ever picking up money, but it don't seem to
+do him a scrap of good. What has he done with his money that he
+has saved?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And I don't suppose he does himself. No, if you wish me to leave
+the hundred pounds to the child instead of to yourself then I will
+do so, heartily, and look about for some one in whom I can place
+confidence to undertake to be trustee. Simon is too old and he is
+getting foolish. My word, if, after I'm dead and gone, Simon
+should take it into his stupid head to marry Polly--I'd rise out
+of my grave to forbid the banns."
+
+"You need have no fear of that, mother."
+
+"If you had been in the house you could have kept an eye on him.
+There, again, my wrong deed finds me out. Matabel, it's my
+solemn conviction that there's no foolishness men won't be up
+to, especially widowers. They've been kept in order so long
+that they break out when their wives are dead. Have you ever seen
+a horse as has been clipped and kept all winter on hay in the
+stables when he chances to get out into a meadow, up go his heels,
+he turns frisky, gallops about, and there's no catching him
+again--not even with oats. He prefers the fresh grass and his
+freedom. That's just like widowers; or they're ginger beer
+bottles, very much up, wi' their corks out. What a pity it is
+Providence has given men so little common sense! Well, I'll see
+to that matter of the trusteeship, and the little man shall have
+a hundred pounds as a stand-by in the chance his father may have
+fooled away his own money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+SURPRISES.
+
+
+Jonas Kink not only raised no objection to having an entertainment
+at the baptism of his child, but he expressed his hearty desire
+that nothing should be spared to repay the gossips for what they
+had done to assist the infant into the Christian Church, by feeding
+them well, and giving them what they valued more highly, something
+to drink.
+
+Mehetabel was gratified, and hoped that this was a token that,
+rude as his manner was, he would gradually unbend and become
+amiable. On the day of the christening, Bideabout was in a bustle,
+he passed from one room to another to see that all was in order;
+he rubbed his palms and laughed to himself. Occasionally his eyes
+rested on Sally Rocliffe, and then there was a malicious twinkle
+in them. There was little affection lost between the two. Neither
+took pains to conciliate the other. Each commented freely on
+those characteristics of the other which were in fact common to
+both.
+
+In his ambition to make a man of comparative substance of his son
+Jonas, the father had not dealt liberally by his daughter, and
+this had rankled in Sarah's heart. She had irritated her brother
+by continually raking up this grievance, and assuring him that a
+brother with natural feeling would, out of generosity of his heart,
+make amends for the injustice of the father.
+
+Jonas had not the slightest intention of doing anything of the
+sort, and this he conveyed to Sarah in the most bald and offensive
+manner possible. For twenty years, ever since the father's death,
+these miserable bickerings had gone on. Sally had not the sense to
+desist, where the pursuit of the topic could avail nothing, nor
+Jonas the kindliness to make her a present which might moderate her
+sense of having been unjustly treated.
+
+He had been obliged to employ his sister, and yet he suspected, not
+without cause, that she took away from his house such scraps of
+food and pots and pipkins as were not likely to be missed. The
+woman justified her conduct to herself by the argument that she was
+inadequately paid in coin, and that she was forced to pilfer in
+order to recoup herself for the outlay of time and muscle in her
+brother's habitation. Thomas Rocliffe was a quiet, harmless old
+man, crushed not only by the derision which had clung to him like a
+robe of Nessus ever since his escapade with the Countess Charlotte,
+but also by the weight of his wife's tongue. He had sought peace
+by non-resistance, and this had encouraged her to violence, and had
+removed the only possible check to her temper. He was not a clever
+man. Most people thought him soft. His son Samuel was stupid and
+sullen, rendered both by his mother's treatment from infancy.
+Thomas had not sufficient intelligence and spontaneity to make a
+struggle to overcome his embarrassments, and force himself a way
+out of his difficulties. Instead of the debt that hampered him
+being gradually reduced, as it might have been by a man with
+energy, it had increased. Nothing had been spent on the house since
+the debt had been first contracted, and it was not water-tight.
+Nothing had been done to the land to dress it, to increase the
+stock, to open up another spring of revenue. When a bad year came
+the family fell into actual distress. When a good year ensued no
+margin was left to serve as a provision for one less favorable.
+
+Mehetabel, pleased that her husband had put no hindrance in the
+way of a christening feast, had begrudged none of the necessary
+expense, was active and skilful in the preparation of cakes and
+pies.
+
+To the church she had to go, so as to be churched immediately
+before the baptism, and Jonas remained at home, as he said, to
+see that no one broke in and carried off the good things. Never,
+within the memory of the oldest inhabitant of the Punch-Bowl;
+never, it may safely be asserted, since the Punch-Bowl had been
+formed, had there been seen a table so spread as that in the Kink's
+farmhouse on the day of the christening, and whilst the party was
+at the church. In the first place the table had on it a clean
+linen cover, not riddled with holes nor spotted with iron mould.
+It was exceptional for any table in the Punch-Bowl to be spread
+with linen. There stood on it plated and red earthenware dishes,
+and on the latter many good things. At one end was a cold rabbit
+pie. Rabbits were, indeed, a glut in Thursley, but such a pie
+was a phenomenon.
+
+Bideabout's mind was exercised over it. He was curious to know
+whether the interior corresponded to the promise without. He
+inserted a knife and lifted the crust just sufficiently to allow
+him to project his nose to the edge of the dish and inhale the
+savor of the contents. "My word!" said he, "there's stuffin'.
+Rabbit and stuffin'. Wot next--and egg. I can see the glimmer
+of the white and yaller."
+
+He rose from his stooping posture and saw Samuel Rocliffe at the
+window.
+
+He beckoned to him to enter, and then showed him the table. "Did
+you ever see the likes?" he asked. "You ain't invited, Sam, but
+you can look over it all. There's a posy of flowers in the middle
+of the table, genteel like, as if it were a public house dinner
+to a club, and look at this pie. Do you see how crinkled it is
+all round, like the frill of your mother's nightcap? That was done
+with the scissors, and there's a gloss over the top. That were
+effected with white o' egg. Just think of that! using white o' egg
+when eggs is eighteen a shilling, for making the pie shine like
+your face o' Sundays after you've yaller-soaped it. There's stuffin'
+inside."
+
+"I wish there were in my inside," said Samuel, surlily.
+
+"You ain't invited. Do you see that thing all of a trimble over
+there, a sort of pale ornamental cooriosity? That's called a
+blue-mange. It's made of isinglass and milk and rice flour. It's
+not for ornament, but to be eaten, by such as is invited. There
+they come! You cut away. If you was a few years older, we might
+have invited you. But there ain't room for boys."
+
+The unfortunate Samuel sulkily retired, casting envious eyes at
+the more favored denizens of the Punch-Bowl who were arriving to
+partake of the viands only shown to him.
+
+The guests streamed in and took their places. They enjoyed the
+feast prepared, and passed encomiums on their hostess for her
+cookery. All fought shy at first of the blanc-mange. None had seen
+such a confection previously, and each desired that his fellow
+should taste before committing himself to a helping.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had sent a present of half-a-dozen bottles of currant
+wine, and these were attacked without any hesitation.
+
+All the males at the table were in their shirt-sleeves. No man
+thought of risking his Sunday coat by wearing it, even though the
+viands were cold.
+
+Jonas seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself. He looked about and
+laughed, and rubbed his hands together under the table.
+
+"Beware!" whispered Sally to her husband. "I can't understand
+Bideabout. There's some joke as tickles his in'ards tremendous. Wot
+it is, I don't see."
+
+"He'll let it out presently," said Thomas.
+
+As soon as every appetite was satisfied, and the guests had thrust
+their plates from them into the midst of the table, Giles Cheel
+stood up, and looking round cleared his throat, and said, "Ladies
+and gem'men, neighbors all. I s'pose on such an occasion as this,
+and after such a feed, it's the dooty of one of us to make a
+speech. And as I'm the oldest and most respected of the Broom-Squires
+of the Bowl, I think it proves as I should express the gen'ral
+feelin' of satisfaction we all have. That there rabbit pie might
+ha' been proud to call itself hare. The currant wine was comfortin',
+especially to such as, like myself, has a touch of a chill below
+the ribs, and it helps digestion. There be some new-fangled notions
+comin' up about taytotallin. I don't hold by 'em. The world was
+once drownded with water, and I don't see why we should have Noah's
+Floods in our insides. The world had quite enough taytotallin'
+then."
+
+Giles was pulled backwards by the hand of his wife, which grasped
+the strap of his waistcoat.
+
+"Sit down, you're ramblin' from the p'int."
+
+"Betsy, let go. I be ramblin' up to it."
+
+"Sit down, they've had enough o' yer."
+
+"They've hardly had a taste."
+
+"Everyone be laughin' at yer."
+
+"I'm just about bringin' tears into their eyes."
+
+"If you go on, I'll clap my hand over yer mouth."
+
+"And then I'll punch yer head."
+
+The daily broil in the Cheel house was about to be produced in
+public. It was stopped by Jonas, who rose to his feet, and with a
+leer and chuckle round, he said, "Neighbors and friends and all.
+Very much obliged for the complerment. But don't think it is all
+about a baby. Nothin' of the kind. It is becos I wanted all,
+neighbors and friends, to be together whilst I made an announcement
+which will be pleasant hearin' to some parties, and astonishin' to
+all. I ain't goin' to detain you very long, for what I've got to
+say might be packed in a nutshell and carried away in the stomick
+of a tomtit. You all of you know, neighbors and friends all, as
+how my brother-in-law made a fool of himself, and was made a fool
+of through the Countess Charlotte. And how that his farm got
+mortgaged; and since then, with lawyers, got more charged; and the
+family have led a strugglin' life since to keep their heads above
+water. Well, I've got all their mortgage and debts into my hands,
+and intend--"
+
+He looked round with a malicious laugh. He saw a flutter of
+expectation in his sister's eyes.
+
+"No, Sally. I ain't going to give 'em up. I hold em, and ain't
+goin' to stand no shilly-shally about payments when due. You may
+be sure of that. And wot is more, I won't stand no nonsense from
+you or Thomas or Samuel, but I expect you to be my very humble
+servants, or I'll sell you up."
+
+A look of blank consternation fell on the faces of the Rocliffes.
+Others looked uneasy. Not the Rocliffes only were partially
+submerged.
+
+"I've somethin' also to say to Gilly Cheel. I ain't goin' to have
+the Punch-Bowl made a Devil's cauldron of wi' his quarrels--"
+
+"Hear, hear," from Betsy Cheel.
+
+"And unless he lives peaceable, and don't trouble me wi' his noise
+and she wi' her cattewawlin'."
+
+"That's for you," said Jamaica, and nudged his wife.
+
+"I'll turn 'em both out," proceeded Jonas. "For I've been gettin'
+his papers into my hands also. And then, as to the Boxalls--"
+
+The members of that clan now looked blank. Consternation was
+spreading to all at table.
+
+"As to the Boxalls," continued Jonas, "if their time hasn't come
+just yet, it's comin'. I hope, neighbors and friends all, you've
+enjyed the dessert."
+
+A dead silence ensued. Every one felt that it would be better to
+be in the power of a lawyer than of Bideabout.
+
+Tears of mortification and resentment rose in the eyes of Sally
+Rocliffe. Mehetabel hung her head in shame.
+
+Then Thomas, stolid and surly, flung a letter across the table to
+the Broom-Squire. "Take that," he said, "I don't wan't to be
+burdened with nothin' of your'n. 'Tis a letter been lyin' at the
+post for you, and Mistress Chivers gave it me. Wish I wos rid of
+everything atwixt us as I be of that there letter now."
+
+Jonas took the missive, turned it about, then carelessly opened it.
+
+As he read his color faded, and he had hardly read to the end
+before he sank back in his chair with a cry of rage and despair;
+"The Wealden bank be broke. I'm a ruined man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+ANOTHER SURPRISE.
+
+
+Among those present the only one who came to the assistance of Jonas
+Kink was his brother-in-law, Thomas Rocliffe, who, thinking that
+Bideabout was going to have a fit, ran to him and unloosed his
+black satin cravat.
+
+The revulsion of feeling in the rest was so sudden that it produced
+a laugh. He who had been exulting in having put their necks under
+his foot had been himself struck down in the moment of his triumph.
+He had sought to humble them in a manner peculiarly mean, and no
+compassion was felt for him now in his distress.
+
+The guests filed out without a word of thanks for the meal of which
+they had partaken, or an expression of pity for the downcast man.
+
+For some while Bideabout remained motionless, looking at the letter
+before him on the table. Mehetabel did not venture to approach or
+address him. She watched him with anxiety, not knowing in which
+direction the brooding rage within him would break forth. He was
+now like a thunder-cloud charged with electricity and threatening
+all with whom he came in contact.
+
+Hearing the wail of her child, she was glad noiselessly to leave
+the room and hasten to comfort it. Presently Jonas rose, and in a
+half stupefied condition went to the stable and saddled old Clutch
+that he might ride to Godalming and learn whether things were as
+bad as represented.
+
+In his impatience to announce to his guests that he had them under
+his control he had been somewhat premature. It was true that the
+negotiations were complete whereby their mortgages and obligations
+were transferred to him, but the money that he was to pay therefor
+had not been made over. Now it would not be possible for him to
+complete the transaction. Not only so, but he had incurred expenses
+by his employment of a solicitor to carry out his design which it
+would be extremely difficult for him to meet, if the bank had
+actually failed.
+
+He alone of all the squires in the Punch-Bowl had put his savings
+into a bank, and he had done this because he was so frequently
+and so long from home that he did not dare to leave them anywhere
+in his house, lest it should be broken into during his absence.
+
+As the Broom-Squire approached Thursley village his horse cast a
+shoe, and he was obliged to stop at the farrier's to have old
+Clutch shod.
+
+"How do'y do, Squire?" said the blacksmith. "Been christenin' your
+baby, I hear."
+
+Bideabout grunted in reply.
+
+"One comes and another goes," said the farrier. "S'pose you've
+heard the news?"
+
+"Think I have," retorted Jonas, irritably. "It's them banks is
+broke."
+
+"I don't mean no banks," said the blacksmith. "But Susanna Verstage.
+I s'pose you've heard she's gone?"
+
+"Gone, where to?"
+
+"That's not for me to say. She's been ailin' some time and now has
+gone off, sudden like. O' course we knowed it must come, but nobody
+didn't think it would ha' come so sudden--and she seemed such a
+hearty woman, only a few months ago. Well, I s'pose it's ordained."
+
+The Broom-Squire did not ask questions. He took very little
+interest in the matter of the death of the hostess of the Ship.
+His mind was engrossed in his own troubles.
+
+As soon as old Clutch had his shoe fitted on, and the other shoes
+looked to, Bideabout pursued his way.
+
+His progress was not fast. Clutch was personally unaffected by the
+failure of the bank, and could not be induced to accelerate his
+speed. Beating only made him more stubborn, and when Bideabout
+stretched his legs out to the furthest possible extent apart
+that was possible, and then brought them together with a sudden
+contraction so as to dig his heels into the horse's ribs, that
+brought Clutch to an absolute standstill.
+
+On reaching Godalming, the worst anticipations of Jonas were
+confirmed. The bank was closed; his savings were lost. Nothing
+had been withdrawn in time to secure them by giving him a hold
+on the squatter settlements of his neighbors. And he himself had
+incurred liabilities that might bring him into the same pit that
+he had digged for his fellows.
+
+He turned homewards in great discouragement and acridity of
+heart. His fellows in the Punch-Bowl had never regarded him with
+cordiality; now they would be his combined enemies. The thoughts
+of his heart were gloomy. In no direction could he see light. He
+now did not urge Clutch along beyond the pace at which the old
+horse had made up his mind to go; it was immaterial to Jonas
+whether he were on the road or at home. Nowhere would he be free
+from his trouble.
+
+He would, perhaps, have turned into the Ship for a glass of spirits
+but, remembering that he had been told the hostess was dead, he
+did not feel inclined to enter a house where he would be still
+further depressed. He had not, however, gone far out of the
+village, before he heard his name called from behind, and on
+turning his head saw Joe Filmer in pursuit.
+
+The ostler came up to him, panting and said--
+
+"Ter'rible news, ain't it? The old lady gone. But that ain't why
+I've stopped you. 'Tis she bade me give your missus a message--as
+she hadn't forgot the bequest of money. But we're that muddled and
+busy at the Ship, I can't go to the Punch-Bowl, so I just runned
+after you. You'll take the message for me, won't you?"
+
+"Money!" exclaimed Bideabout, reining in old Clutch, who now
+objected to be stayed on his way to the familiar stable. "Money!"
+repeated Bideatout, and then lugged at old Clutch's rein till he
+had turned the brute about.
+
+The horse had sufficient obstinacy in him to persist in his
+intentions of not being stopped on the high-road, and though
+turned round he continued to scramble along in the reverse direction
+to his home.
+
+"Hang you, you old toad!" exclaimed Jonas. "If you will, I don't
+care. Be it so. We will go to the Ship. I say, Joe! What was that
+about money?"
+
+"It was that the missus made me promise to inform your missus,
+that she'd not forgotten her undertakin', but had made provision
+that she should have the money as she wished."
+
+"The money--how much?"'
+
+"I do not know. She did not say."
+
+"And she has left money to Matabel?"
+
+"I suppose so. She was always amazin' fond of her. She was a savin'
+woman, and had put away something of her own."
+
+"I'll go to the Ship. I will, certainly. I ought not to have passed
+without a word with Simon on his loss. I suppose he's sure to know
+how much it is?"
+
+"I suppose so. Missus would consult him. She made a show o' that
+always, but nevertheless followed her own head."
+
+"And Simon is terrible cut up?"
+
+"Bears it like a man."
+
+"Here, take old Clutch; give him some oats, and kick him, he
+deserves it, he's been so unruly. But, stay--no. Hold his head,
+and I'll kick him, afore he's had his oats. He's a darned malicious
+old Radical. Put in some pepper to his nose when he's done his
+oats."
+
+Bideabout went into the house, through the porch, and entered the
+bar.
+
+Simon was seated there smoking a long clay, with his feet on the
+fender, before a glowing fire, and with a stiff glass of hot punch
+on the table at his side.
+
+"Sorry for you," was Jonas's brief address of salutation and
+condolence.
+
+Mr. Verstage shook his head. "That's what my old woman said."
+
+Seeing an expression of surprise and query in the Broom-Squire's
+face, he explained: "Not after, afore, in course. She said, 'Very
+sorry for you, Simon, very. It's wus for you than for me, I shall
+die--you'll make yourself ridic'lous.'"
+
+"What did she mean?"
+
+"Can't think," answered Simon, with great solemnity. "Will you have
+a drop of something? In this vale of tears we want consolation."
+Then, in a loud voice, "Polly--another glass."
+
+After looking steadily and sadly into the embers, Mr. Verstage
+said: "I don't believe that woman ever made a mistake in her
+life--but once."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"When she gave Matabel to you. We wanted her in this house. Her
+proper place was here. It all comes wi' meddlin' wi' what ort to
+be let alone--and that is Providence. There's never no sayin' but
+Iver--"
+
+Dimly the old host saw that he was floundering upon delicate
+ground. "My doctrine is," said he, "let things alone and they'll
+come right in the end."
+
+Bideabout moved uneasily. He winced at the reference to Iver. But
+what he now really was anxious to arrive at was the matter of money
+left by Mrs. Verstage to Mehetabel.
+
+"Now," said Simon, looking after the serving-maid, as she left the
+bar, when she had deposited the tumbler beside Bideabout. "Now, my
+old woman was amazin' set against that girl. Why--I can't think.
+She's a good girl when let alone. But Sanna never would let her
+alone. She were ever naggin' at her; so that she upset the poor
+thing's nerve. She broke the taypot and chucked the beer to the
+pigs, but that was because she were flummeried wi' my old woman
+going on at her so. She said to me she really couldn't bear to
+think how I'd go on after she were gone. I sed, to comfort her,
+that I knowed Polly would do her best. 'She'll do the best she can
+for herself,' answered Sanna, as sharp as she said 'Yes, I will,'
+when we was married. I don't know what her meanin' was. You won't
+believe it, but it's true what I'm going to tell you. She said to
+me, did Susanna, 'Simon there was Mary Toft, couldn't die, because
+there were wild-fowl feathers in her bed. They had to take her off
+the four-poster and get another feather-bed, before she could die
+right off. Now,' said Sanna, 'it's somethin' like that with me. I
+ain't got wild-bird feathers under me, but there's a wild fowl in
+the house, and that's Polly. So long as she's here die I can't,
+and die I won't.' 'Well, old woman,' sed I, if that's all, to
+accommodate you, I'll send Polly to her mother,' and so I did--and
+she died right on end, peaceable."
+
+"But Polly is here."
+
+"Oh, yes--when Sanna were gone--we couldn't do wi'out her. She
+knowed that well enough and came back--runnin' like a long dog,
+and very good and thoughtful it was of her. Most young wimen ain't
+considerate like that."
+
+This was all wide of the subject that engrossed the interest of
+Bideabout, and had induced him to revisit the Ship. As the host
+made no allusion to the topic, the Broom-Squire plunged into the
+matter, headforemost.
+
+"Joe Filmer," said he, "called me back. I didn't wish to come in
+and trouble you now. But Joe said as how you wanted to speak to me
+about some money as your wife had left with you for my Matabel;
+and I thought it might be botherin' your mind when you wanted to
+turn it to religious thought, and so I came back to say I'd
+relieve you of it and take it at once."
+
+"Money! Oh!" Mr. Verstage was a little difficult to turn from one
+line of thought to another. "Polly never stood out for higher
+wages. Not like some who, when they've been with you just long
+enough to learn the ways of the house, and to make themselves
+useful, and not to break everything they handle, and spoil
+everything they touch, ask, 'Please will you advance my wages?'
+Polly never did that."
+
+"I am not speakin' of Polly," said Jonas, peevishly, "but of some
+money that Joe Filmer told me you wanted to tell me about. Something
+that your poor wife desired you to give to Matabel."
+
+"Oh, you mean that hundred pounds. I wasn't against it. On the
+contrary, I said I'd add fifty to it. I always said Sanna did wrong
+in giving Matabel to--I mean flying in the face of Providence."
+
+"I shall be very glad to take it, and thus relieve your mind of
+all care."
+
+"Oh, it's no care at all."
+
+"It must be, and besides--it must interfere with your turning your
+mind to serious thoughts."
+
+"Oh, not at all. I can't give you the money. It is not for you."
+
+"No; but it is for Matabel, and we are one."
+
+"Oh, no; it's not for Matabel."
+
+"The hundred and fifty pounds is not for Matabel? And yet you said
+it was intended to make up to her for something you did not exactly
+explain."
+
+"No, it is not for Matabel. Matabel might have had it, I daresay,
+but my old woman said she was set against that."
+
+"Then we are to be deprived of it by her folly?" The Broom-Squire
+flushed purple.
+
+"Oh, no. It is all right. It is for the child."
+
+"For the child! That is all the same. I am the father, and will
+take care of the money."
+
+"But I can't give it you."
+
+"Have you not got it?"
+
+"The money is all right. Sanna's hundred pounds--I know where that
+is, and my fifty shall go along with it. I was always fond of
+Matabel. But the child was only baptized to-day, and won't be old
+enough to enjoy it for many years."
+
+"In the meantime it can be laid out to its advantage," urged
+Bideabout.
+
+"I daresay," said Simon, "but I've nothin' to do with that, and
+you've nothin' to do with that."
+
+"Then who has?"
+
+"Iver, of course."
+
+"Iver!" The Broom-Squire turned livid as a corpse.
+
+"You see," pursued the host, "Sanna said as how she wouldn't make
+me trustee, I was too old, and I might be dead, or done something
+terrible foolish, before the child came of age to take it on itself,
+to use her very words. So she wouldn't make me trustee, but she
+put it all into Iver's hands to hold for the little chap. She were
+a won'erful shrewd woman were Sanna, and I've no doubt she was
+right."
+
+"Iver trustee--for my child!"
+
+"Yes--why not?"
+
+The Broom-Squire stood up, and without tasting the glass of punch
+mixed for him, without a farewell to the landlord, went forth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+MARKHAM.
+
+
+The funeral of Mrs. Verstage was conducted with all the pomp and
+circumstance that delight the rustic mind. Bideabout attended, and
+his hat was adorned with a black silk weeper that was speedily
+converted by Mehetabel, at his desire, into a Sunday waistcoat.
+
+In this silk waistcoat he started on old Clutch one day for
+Guildford, without informing his wife or sister whither he was bound.
+
+The child was delicate and fretful, engaging most of its mother's
+time and engrossing all her thought.
+
+She had found an old cradle of oak, with a hood to it, the whole
+quaintly and rudely carved, the rockers ending in snakes' heads,
+in which several generations of Kinks had lain; in which, indeed,
+Jonas had spent his early infancy, and had pleaded for his mother's
+love and clamored for her attention. Whether with the thought of
+amusing the child, or merely out of the overflow of motherly love
+that seeks to adorn and glorify the babe, Mehetabel had picked the
+few late flowers that lingered on in spite of frost, some pinched
+chrysanthemums, a red robin that had withstood the cold, some twigs
+of butcher's broom with blood-red berries that had defied it, and
+these she had stuck about the cradle in little gimlet holes that
+had been drilled round the edge, probably to contain pegs that might
+hold down a cover, to screen out glaring sun or cutting draught.
+
+Now, as Mehetabel rocked the cradle and knitted, singing to the
+sobbing child, the flowers wavered about the infant, forming a
+wreath of color, and freshening the air with their pure fragrance.
+Each flower in itself was without much perceptible savor, yet the
+whole combined exhaled a healthy, clean, and invigorating waft as
+of summer air over a meadow.
+
+The wreath that surrounded the child was not circular but oblong,
+almost as though engirding a tiny grave, but this Mehetabel did not
+see.
+
+Playing the cradle with her foot, with the sun shining in at the
+window and streaking the foot, she sang--
+
+  "My heart is like a fountain true
+   That flows and flows with love to you;
+   As chirps the lark unto the tree,
+   So chirps my pretty babe to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby."
+
+But the answer was a peevish moan from the bed. The young mother
+stooped over the cradle.
+
+  "Oh, little lark! little lark! this is no chirp,
+   Would you were as glad and as gay as the lark!"
+
+Then, resuming her rocking, she sang,
+
+  "There's not a rose where'er I seek
+   As comely as my baby's cheek.
+   There's not a comb of honey bee,
+   So full of sweets as babe to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby."
+
+Again she bowed over the crib, and all the rocking flowers quivered
+and stood still.
+
+"Baby, darling! Why are there such poor roses in your little cheek?
+I would value them above all the China roses ever grown! Look at
+the Red Robin, my sweet, my sweet, and become as pink as is that."
+
+  "There's not a star that shines on high
+   Is brighter than my baby's eye.
+   There's not a boat upon the sea
+   Can dance as baby does to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby."
+
+  "No silk was ever spun so fine
+   As is the hair of baby mine.
+   My baby smells more sweet to me
+   Than smells in spring the elder tree.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!"
+
+The child would not sleep.
+
+Again the mother stayed the rocking of the cradle, and the swaying
+of the flowers.
+
+She lifted the little creature from its bed carefully lest the
+sharp-leafed butcher's broom should scratch it. How surrounded was
+that crib with spikes, and they poisonous! And the red berries oozed
+out of the ribs of the cruel needle-armed leaves, like drops of
+heart's blood.
+
+Mehetabel took her child to her bosom, and rocked her own chair,
+and as she rocked, the sunbeam flashed across her face, and then
+she was in shadow, then another flash, and again shadow, and from
+her face, when sunlit, a reflection of light flooded the little
+white dress of the babe, and illumined the tiny arm, and restless
+fingers laid against her bosom.
+
+  "A little fish swims in the well,
+   So in my heart does baby dwell.
+   A little flower blows on the tree,
+   My baby is the flower to me.
+   And It's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby!"
+
+A wondrous expression of peace and contentment was on Mehetabel's
+face. None of the care and pain that had lined it, none of the gloom
+of hopelessness that had lain on it, had left now thereon a trace.
+In her child all her hope was centred, all her love culminated.
+
+  "The King has sceptre, crown and ball.
+   You are my sceptre, crown and all,
+   For all his robes of royal silk.
+   More fair your skin, as white as milk.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!
+
+  "Ten thousand parks where deer may run,
+   Ten thousand roses in the sun.
+   Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea.
+   My babe, more precious is to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!"
+
+Presently gentle sleep descended on the head of the child, the
+pink eyelids closed, the restless hand ceased to grope and clutch,
+and the breath came evenly. Mehetabel laid her little one again in
+its cradle, and recommenced the rocking with the accompanying
+swaying of the flowers.
+
+Now that the child was asleep Mehetabel sat lightly swinging the
+cradle, afraid to leave it at rest lest that of her infant should
+again be broken.
+
+She thought of the death of her almost mother Susanna Verstage,
+the only woman that had shown her kindness, except the dame of the
+school she had attended as a child.
+
+Mehetabel's heart overflowed with tender love towards the deceased,
+she fully, frankly forgave her the cruel blow whereby she had
+wounded her, and had driven her out of her house and into that of
+Jonas. And yet it was a deadly wrong: a wrong that could never be
+redressed. The wound dealt her would canker her heart away; it was
+of such a nature that nothing could heal it. Mehetabel was well
+aware of this. She could see brightness before her in one direction
+only. From her child alone could she derive hope and joy in
+the future. And yet she forgave Mrs. Verstage with a generous
+forgiveness which was part of her nature. She would forgive Jonas
+anything, everything, if he would but acknowledge his wrong, and
+turn to her in love.
+
+And now she found that she could think of Iver without a quickening
+of her pulses.
+
+In her love for her babe all other loves had been swallowed up,
+refined, reduced in force. She loved Iver still, but only as a
+friend, a brother. Her breast had room for one prevailing love
+only--that of her child.
+
+As she sat, slightly rocking the cradle, and with a smile dimpling
+her cheek, a knock sounded at the door, and at her call there
+entered a young man whom she had seen during the winter with Jonas.
+He was a gentleman, and she had been told that he had lodged at the
+Huts, and she knew that he had engaged the Broom-Squire to attend
+him, when duck-shooting, at the Fransham ponds.
+
+Mehetabel apologized for not rising as he entered, and pointed to
+the cradle.
+
+"My name is Markham," said the young man, "I have come to see Mr.
+Kink. This is his house, I believe?"
+
+"Yes, sir; but he is not at home."
+
+"Will he be long absent?"
+
+"I do not know. Will you please to take a chair?"
+
+"Thank you." The young gentleman seated himself, wiped his brow,
+and threw his cap on the floor.
+
+"I want some fishing. I made Mr. Kink's acquaintance, shooting,
+during the winter. Excuse me, are you his sister or his wife?"
+
+"His wife, sir."
+
+"You are very young."
+
+To this Mehetabel made no reply.
+
+"And uncommonly pretty," pursued Mr. Markham, looking at her with
+admiration. "Where the deuce did the Broom-Squire pick you up?"
+
+The young mother was annoyed--a little color formed in her cheek.
+"Can I give a message to Jonas?" she asked.
+
+"A message? Tell him he's a lucky dog. By heaven! I had no idea
+that a pearl lay at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. And that is your
+baby?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Mehetabel lightly raised the sheet that covered the child's head.
+
+The stranger stooped and looked at the sleeping child, that seemed
+to be made uneasy by his glance, and turned moaning away.
+
+"It looks as if it were for another world--not this," said the
+gentleman.
+
+The flush spread over Mehetabel's brow. "Sir," she said in a
+fluttering voice, "You are not a doctor, are you?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no!--a barrister."
+
+"Then," said she, in a tone of relief, "you do not know. The child
+is very well, but young."
+
+"That may be."
+
+The young man returned to his seat.
+
+"I have left a fishing-rod outside," he said. "I wanted Kink to
+accompany me on one of the ponds where there is a punt. There must
+be plenty of fish in these sheets of water?"
+
+"I believe there are, sir. As Jonas is away, perhaps Samuel Rocliffe
+can help you. He is my husband's nephew, and lives in the cottage,
+a little further down."
+
+"Thank you, I'll look him up. But, hang me, if I like to leave--with
+such attractions here I do not care to leave."
+
+After standing, considering a moment, hardly taking his eyes off
+Mehetabel, he said--"My pretty little hostess, if ever I begrudged
+a man in my life, I begrudge Jonas Kink--his wife. Come and tell me
+when you find him intolerable, and see if I cannot professionally
+help you to be rid of such a curmudgeon. Who knows?--the time may
+come! My name is Markham."
+
+Then he departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE PICTURE.
+
+
+Meanwhile Bideabout was on his way to the town of Guildford. He
+made slow progress, for old Clutch had no mind for speed. The horse
+was mistrustful as to whither he was going, and how he would be
+treated on reaching his destination. No amount of beating availed.
+He had laid on his winter growth of hair, which served as a mat,
+breaking the force of the strokes administered. He was proof against
+kicks, for whenever Jonas extended his legs for the purpose of
+bringing his heels sharply against the sides of Clutch, the old
+horse drew a deep inspiration and blew himself out; thus blunting
+the force of the heels driven into him.
+
+At length, however, Jonas and old Clutch did reach Guildford. To
+old Clutch's great astonishment he found himself in a town new to
+him, more populous than Godalming; and being strongly convinced
+that he had done enough, and that every house was an inn open to
+receive him, and being eager to make himself comfortable, he
+endeavored to carry his master into a china-shop, then into a
+linen-draper's shop, and next into a green-grocer's.
+
+Jonas was constrained to stable his obstinate steed in the first
+tavern he came to, and to make the rest of his way on foot.
+
+Guildford is, to this day, a picturesque old town, dominated by
+the ruins of a fine royal castle, and with a quaint Grammar School
+and hospital. At the present time it is going through immense
+transformation. It has become a favorite retiring place for old
+officers of the army, supplanting in this respect Cheltenham. But
+at the period of this tale it was a sleepy, ancient, county town
+that woke to life on market days, and rested through the remainder
+of the week. It did not work six days and keep one Sabbath, but
+held the Sabbath for six days and woke to activity on one only.
+
+Now nobody quite knows who are all the new people that flow into
+the villas, and flood the suburbs. At the period whereof we tell
+there were no invaders of the place. Everybody knew every one else
+in his own clique, and knew of and looked down on every one else in
+the clique below him, and thanked God that he only knew of him,
+and did not know him; and looked up at and slandered every one
+else in the clique above him.
+
+At the time of which we tell there was no greater joy to those in
+each of the many cliques than to be able to stare at those who
+belonged to a clique esteemed lower, and to ask who those people
+were, and profess never to have heard their names, and to wonder
+out of what dungheap they had sprung.
+
+At that time the quintessence of society in the town consisted of
+such as were called upon and returned the calls of the county
+families. Now, alas, almost every country gentleman's house in the
+neighborhood is no longer occupied by its ancient proprietors, and
+is sold or let to successful tradespeople, so that the quintessence
+of society in the town plumes itself on not knowing the occupants
+of these stately mansions.
+
+At that time the family that inhabited a house which had been
+built fifty years before regarded with contempt those who occupied
+one built only thirty years before. At that time those who had a
+remote connection by cousinship twice removed with an Honorable,
+deemed themselves justified in considering every one else, not so
+privileged, as dishonorable.
+
+Now all this is past, or is in process of passing away, and in
+Guildford and its suburbs, as elsewhere, the old order changeth,
+and the poll of a Parish Council teaches men their levels in the
+general estimation.
+
+Without much difficulty, Jonas Kink was able to discover where the
+artist, Iver Verstage, had his house and his studio. The house was
+small, in a side street, and the name was on the door.
+
+Jonas was ushered into the workshop by an elderly maid, and then
+saw Iver in a blouse with his arms tied about with string; a
+mahl-stick in one hand and a brush in the other.
+
+Iver was surprised to see the Broom-Squire, and indisposed to
+welcome him. He purposely retained stick and brush in his hands,
+so as not to be able to strike palms with the man who had deprived
+him of the woman he admired and loved best in the world; and whom
+he suspected of misusing her.
+
+Jonas looked about the studio, and his eye was caught by a picture
+of Mehetabel at the well head. The young artist had devoted his
+best efforts to finishing his study, and working it up into an
+effective and altogether charming painting.
+
+The Broom-Squire held in the right hand the stick wherewith he had
+thrashed old Clutch, and this he now transferred to the left,
+whilst extending his right hand and forcing a smile on his leathery
+face. The artist made a pretence of seeking out some place where
+he could put down the articles encumbering his hands, but finding
+none, he was unable to return the salutation.
+
+"Let bygones be bygones," said Jonas, and he dropped his hand.
+"Fine pictur' that, very like my wife. What, now, have you sold
+that for?"
+
+"It is not sold at all. I do not think I shall part with the
+painting."
+
+"Why not?" asked Jonas, with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes and
+a flush on his cheek-bones.
+
+"Because it is a good sample of my ability which I can show to
+such as come as customers, and also because it reminds me of an
+old friend."
+
+"Then you may take my portrait," said Jonas, "and sell this. Mine
+will do as well, and you knowed me afore you did Matabel."
+
+"That is true," laughed Iver, "but I am not sure that you would
+make so striking subject, so inspiring to the artist. Did you
+come all the way from the Punch-Bowl to see the painting?"
+
+"No, I didn't," answered Jonas.
+
+"Then had you business in the town?"
+
+"None particular."
+
+"Was it to give me the pleasure of seeing you and asking after
+old friends at Thursley?"
+
+"Old friends," sneered Bideabout; "much the like o' you cares for
+them as is old. It's the young and the bloomin' as is to your
+fancy. And I reckon it ain't friends as you would ask about, but
+a friend, and that's Matabel. Well, I don't mind tellin' of yer
+that she's got a baby, but I s'pose you've heard that, and the
+child ain't over strong and healthy, such as ort to be in the
+Punch-Bowl, where we're all hard as nails."
+
+"Aye, not in physique only?"
+
+"I don't know nothin about physic. I didn't take it when I were
+poorly, and nobody ever did in the Punch-Bowl as I've heard tell
+on. I sent once to Gorlmyn (Godalming) for a sleepin' draught,
+when I were bad wi' that shot in my shoulder as you knows of. But
+I never took it, not I."
+
+"So you've come to see me?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I've come, civil and neighbor-like, to see you."
+
+"What about? Will you sit down?"
+
+"Thanky, I just about like to stand. Yes, I've come to see you--on
+business."
+
+"On business!"
+
+"Yes, on business. You're trustee, I hear, for the child."
+
+"To be sure I am. Mother put away a hundred pounds, and father has
+added fifty to it--and it is for your little one, some day."
+
+"Well," said Jonas, "what I've come about is I wants it now."
+
+"What, the hundred and fifty pounds?"
+
+"Aye, I reckon the hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"But the money is not left to you."
+
+"I know it b'aint; I want it for the child."
+
+"You are not going to have it."
+
+"Look here. Master Iver Verstage, you never ort to ha' been made
+trustee for my child. It's so much as puttin' a slight and an
+insult on me. If that child be mine then I'm the one as should
+have the trust. Don't I know best what the child wants? Don't I
+know best how to lay it out for its advantage? The money ort to
+ha' been put in my hands and in none other. That's my opinion."
+
+"Bideabout!" answered Iver, "it is not a question as to what my
+father and mother should have done. I did not seek to be made
+trustee. It was a freak on the part of my dear mother. As she has
+done it, there it is; neither you nor I can alter that."
+
+"Yes. You can renounce trusteeship."
+
+"That will not help. Then I suppose the money would go into
+Chancery, and would be consumed there without any of it reaching
+the child."
+
+Jonas considered, and then shook his head.
+
+"You can hand it over to me."
+
+"Then I should be held responsible and have to refund when the
+little fellow comes of age."
+
+"He may never come of age."
+
+"That neither you nor I can tell."
+
+"Now look here," said the Broom-Squire, assuming an air of
+confidence, "between you and me, as old acquaintances, and
+me as gave you the feathers out o' a snipe's wing to make your
+first brush--and, so to speak, launched you in your career of
+greatness--between you and me I'm in an awkward perdic'ment.
+Through the failure of the Wealden Bank, of which you've heard
+tell, I've lost pretty much everything as I had managed to save
+through years of toil and frugality. And now I'm menaced in my
+little property. I don't know as I shall be able to hold it,
+unless some friend comes to the help. Well, now, who'll that
+little property go to but my son--that there precious darlin'
+baby as we're talkin' about. He'll grow out o' his squawlin',
+and he'll want his property unincumbered and clear, as it came
+to me. That I can't give him unless helped. I don't ask that
+there hundred and fifty pounds for myself. I know very well that
+I can't have it for myself. But I demand it for the child; it is
+now or never can the little estate in the Punch-Bowl be saved
+from fallin' into the hands of them darned lawyers. A stitch in
+time saves nine, and a little help now may be all that is wanted
+to keep the property clean and clear and unembarrassed wi' debt.
+If once we get our heads under water we'll all get drowned, me
+and Matabel and the kid--sure as crabs ain't garden apples."
+
+"That may be very true, Bideabout," answered Iver, "but for all
+that I cannot let the money out of my control."
+
+"Ain't you bound to spend it on the child?"
+
+"I am bound to reserve it whole and intact for the child."
+
+"But can you not see," persisted Jonas, "that you are doing that
+for the child, it would wish above all, when come to years of
+discretion."
+
+"That is possible, but my hands are tied."
+
+"In truth you will not."
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"I don't believe you. It is because you want to spite me that you
+will not help."
+
+"Not at all, Bideabout. I wish well to the child and its mother,
+and, of course, to you. But I cannot break a trust."
+
+"You will not?"
+
+"If no other word will suit you--be it so--I will not."
+
+Jonas Kink fumed blood red.
+
+"You think to have me there. I shouldn't be surprised but it's you
+who are at the bottom of all--and will buy me up and buy me out,
+that you and Matabel may have the place to yourselves. It shall
+never be. I know what was meant when Sanna Verstage made you
+trustee. I am to be reckoned with. I can assure you of that. I
+shall find means to keep my property from you and my wife also."
+
+He raised his stick and fell to beating the picture of Mehetabel
+with it; till it was rent to rags.
+
+"Not even her picture shall you have--and I would it were her I
+were slashin' and breakin' to pieces as I've done to this picture.
+It may come to that in the end--but out of my power and into your
+hands she shall never go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE ONLY CHANGE
+
+
+Jonas Kink, after much objurgation and persuasion, had induced
+old Clutch to leave his stable at Guildford, and return home by
+way of Godalming.
+
+But the horse was unfamiliar with the road. He had been ridden
+along it in reverse direction in the morning, but, as every
+one knows, a way wears quite a different aspect under such
+circumstances. Old Clutch was mistrustful. Having been taken such
+an unprecedentedly long journey, he was without confidence that his
+master might not prolong the expedition to a still further distance.
+Accordingly he was exceedingly troublesome and unmanageable on the
+road from Guildford, and his behavior served to work the temper of
+Jonas to the extremity of irritability.
+
+The horse, on approaching Godalming, began to limp. Bideabout
+descended, and examined each hoof. He could see no stone there,
+nothing to account for the lameness of old Clutch, which, however,
+became so pronounced as he entered the street of the little town
+that he was obliged to stable the beast, and rest it.
+
+Then he went direct to the offices of a small attorney of the name
+of Barelegs, who had been engaged on his business.
+
+As he entered the office, Mr. Barelegs looked up from a deed he
+was reading, turned his head, and contemplated his client.
+
+There was something in his manner that angered Jonas, already
+excited and inclined to be annoyed at trifles, and he said
+irritably,--
+
+"You look at me. Mister Barelegs, just as does old Clutch when I
+come into the stable, expectin' a feed of corn, he does."
+
+"And no doubt he deserves it."
+
+"He thinks he does, but he don't."
+
+"And no doubt he gets his feed."
+
+"There is doubt about it. He gets it when I choose to give it,
+not when he glowers at me--that way, he's wonderful artificial is
+old Clutch."
+
+"I dare be sworn, Mr. Kink, if he has served you well, he expects
+to be paid for it."
+
+"He's an owdacious old Radical," observed Jonas. "Just now he's
+shamming lame, becos I rode him into Guildford, and he likes the
+inn here. There's an old broken-winded, galled gray mare, I reckon
+he's set his fancy on in the same yard, and I'm pretty sure this
+lameness means nothin' more nor less than that he wants to be
+a-courtin'. To see them two hosses, when they meet, rubbin' heads,
+is enough to make a fellow sick. And Clutch, at his age too--when
+he ort to be thinkin' of his latter end!"
+
+"We've all our little weaknesses, Mr. Kink, man and beast alike.
+You courted--not so long ago."
+
+"I never courted in the ridic'lous fashion of other folks. I'd
+none of your yardin', and aiblen' to aiblen', and waistin'."
+
+"What do you mean, Mr. Kink?"
+
+"Don't you know the three stages o' courtin here? Fust o' all,
+the young pair walks each other about a yard apart--that's yardin'.
+Then they gits more familiar, and takes each other's arms. That's
+wot we calls in these parts aiblen' to aiblen', and last, when
+they curls their arms round each other, won'erful familiar, that's
+called waistin'. No, I never went through none o' them courses in
+my courtship. I weren't such a fool. But I was tellin' you about
+old Clutch."
+
+"I want to hear about that party. What if he does not receive his
+feed. Doesn't he kick?"
+
+Jonas laughed ironically.
+
+"He tried that on once. But I got a halter, and fastened it to
+his tail by the roots, and made a loop t'other end, and when he
+put up his heels I slipped one into the loop, and he nigh pulled
+his tail off at the stump."
+
+"Then, perhaps he bites."
+
+"He did try that on," Jonas admitted, "but he won't try that on
+again."
+
+"How did you cure him of biting?" asked the solicitor.
+
+"I saw what he was up to, when I was a-grooming of him. He tried
+to get hold of my arm. I was prepared for him. I'd slipped my arm
+out o' my sleeve and stuffed the sleeve with knee-holm (butcher's
+broom), and when he bit he got the prickles into his mouth so as
+he couldn't shut it again, but stood yawnin' as if sleepy till I
+pulled 'em out. Clutch and I has our little games together--the
+teasy old brute--but I'm generally too much for him." After a
+little consideration Bideabout added, "It's only on the road I
+find him a little too cunnin' for me. Now he's pretendin to be
+lame, all 'long of his little love-affair with that gray hoss.
+Sometimes he lies down in the middle of the road. If I had my
+fowlin' piece I'd shoot off blank cartridge under his belly, and
+wouldn't old Clutch go up all fours into the air; but he knows well
+enough the gun is at home. Let old Clutch alone for wickedness."
+
+"Well, Mr. Kink, you haven't come here to get my assistance against
+old Clutch, have you?"
+
+"No," said Bideabout. "That's gospel. I ain't come here to
+tell about old Clutch; and it ain't against him as I want your
+assistance. It is against Iver Verstage, the painter chap at
+Guildford."
+
+"What has he been doing?"
+
+"Nuthin'! that's just it. He's made treasurer, trustee, or whatever
+you're pleased to call it, for my baby; and I want the money out."
+
+"Out of his pocket and into yours?"
+
+"Exactly. I don't see why I'm to have all the nussin' and feedin'
+ and clothin' of the young twoad, and me in difficulties for money,
+and he all the while coaxing up a hundred and fifty pounds, and
+laying of it out, and pocketin' the interest, and I who have all
+the yowls by night, and the washin' and dressin' and feedin' and
+all that, not a ha'penny the better."
+
+"How does this person you name come to be trustee for the child?"
+
+"Becos his mother made him so; and that old idjot of a Simon
+Verstage, his father, goes and makes the sum bigger by addin'
+fifty pounds to her hundred, so now there's this tidy little sum
+lies doin no good to nobody."
+
+"I cannot help you. You cannot touch the principal till the child
+is of age, and then it will go to the child, and not you."
+
+"Why! that's twenty-one years hence. That's what I call reg'lar
+foreright (awkward); and worse than foreright, it's unreasonable.
+The child is that owdacious in the cradle, I shouldn't be surprised
+when he's of age he would deny me the money."
+
+"The interest will be paid to you."
+
+"What is that--perhaps sixpence in the year. Better than nuthin',
+but I want the lot of it. Look you here, Master Barelegs, I know
+very well that I owe you money. I know very well that unless I can
+raise two hundred pounds, and that pretty smart, I shall have to
+mortgage my little bit of land to you. I don't forget that. But
+I daresay you'd rather have the money down than my poor little
+bit of lean and ribby take out o' the common. You shall have the
+money if you'll help me to get it. If I can't get that money into
+my fingers--I'm a done man. But it's not only that as troubles me.
+It is that the Rocliffes, and the Snellings, and the Boxalls, and
+Jamaica Cheel will make my life miserable. They'll mock at me, and
+I shall be to them just as ridic'lous an object as was Thomas
+Rocliffe after he'd lost his Countess. That's twenty-three years
+agone, and he can't get over it. Up comes the Countess Charlotte
+on every occasion, whenever any one gets across with him. It will
+be the same with me. I told 'em all to their faces that I had got
+them into my power, and just as the net was about to snap--then
+the breaking of the bank upset all my reckonings, and spoiled the
+little game--and what is worse, has made me their sport. But I
+won't stand no nonsense from old Clutch, nor will I from them."
+
+"I confess I do not quite understand about this money. Was it left
+by will?"
+
+"Left by will right enough," answered Bideabout. "You see the old
+woman, Sanna Verstage, had a bit of property of her own when she
+married, and then, when it came to her dyin', she set to write a
+will, and wanted to leave a hundred pounds to the little twoad.
+But she called up and consulted Simon, and he sed, 'Put on another
+fifty, Sanna, and I'll make that up. I always had a likin' for
+Matabel.' So that is how it came about as I've heard, and a
+hundred pound came out of her estate, and Simon made up the other
+fifty. And for why--but to spite me, I dun know, but they appointed
+Iver to be trustee. Now, I'm in difficulties about the land. I
+reckon when I'm dead it will go to the little chap, and go wi' all
+the goodness drained out of it--acause I have had to mortgage it.
+Whereas, if I could touch that money now, there'd be nothing of
+the kind happen."
+
+"I am very sorry for you," remarked the lawyer. "But that bequest
+is beyond your reach so long as the child lives."
+
+"What's that you say?"
+
+"I say that unless the poor little creature should die, you cannot
+finger the money."
+
+"And if it did die, would it be mine?"
+
+"Of course it would. By no other way can you get it, but, please
+Heaven, the child may grow to be a strong man and outlive you."
+
+"It's wonderful weakly," said Jonas, meditatively.
+
+"Weakly in the cradle is sturdy at the table," answered the
+solicitor, slightly altering a popular maxim.
+
+"It's that peevish and perverse--"
+
+"Then it takes after its father," laughed Mr. Barelegs. "You can't
+complain of that, Kink."
+
+The Broom-Squire took his hat and stick and rose to leave.
+
+Mr. Barelegs stayed him with a wave of the hand, and, "A word with
+you further, Mr. Kink. You gracefully likened me, just now, to
+your horse Clutch expecting his feed of oats after having served
+you well. Now I admit that, like Clutch, I have spent time and
+thought and energy in your service, and, like Clutch, I expect my
+feed of oats. I think we must have all clear and straight between
+us, and that at once. I have made out my little account with you,
+and here it is. You will remember that, acting on your instructions,
+I have advanced money in certain transactions that have broken down
+through the unfortunate turn in your affairs caused by the failure
+of the Wealden Bank. There is a matter of two hundred, and something
+you owe me for payments made and for services. I daresay you are a
+little put about now, but it will be useful to you to know all your
+liabilities so as to make provision for meeting them. I will not be
+hard on you as a client, but, of course, you do not expect me to
+make you a present of my money, and my professional service."
+
+Jonas took the account reluctantly, and his jaw fell.
+
+"I dare say," pursued the solicitor, "that among your neighbors
+you may be able to borrow sufficient. The Rocliffes, your own
+kinsmen, are, I fear, not very flush with money."
+
+"Ain't got any to bless themselves with," said Jonas.
+
+"But the Boxalls are numerous, and fairly flourishing. They have
+probably put away something, and as neighbors and friends--"
+
+"I've quarrelled with them. I can't borrow of them," growled
+Bideabout.
+
+"Then there are the Snellings--"
+
+"I've offended them as well."
+
+"But you have other friends."
+
+"I haven't one."
+
+"There is Simon Verstage, a warm man; he could help you in an
+emergency."
+
+"He's never been the same with me since I married Matabel, his
+adopted daughter. He had other ideas for her, I fancy, and he is
+short and nasty wi' me now. I can't ask him."
+
+"Have you then, really, no friends?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Then there must be some fault in you, Kink. A man who goes through
+life without making friends, and quarrels even with the horse that
+carries him, is not one who will leave a gap when he passes out of
+the world. I shall expect my money. If you see no other way of
+satisfying me, I must have a mortgage on your holding. I'll not
+press you at once--but, like Clutch, I shall want my feed of oats."
+
+"Then," said Jonas, surlily, as he turned his hat about, and
+looked down into it, "I don't see no other chance of gettin the
+money than--"
+
+"Than what?"
+
+"That's my concern," retorted the Broom-Squire. "Now I'm goin' to
+see whether old Clutch is ready--or whether he be shammin' still."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT.
+
+
+Jonas found that old Clutch was not lavishing endearments on the
+gray mare over the intervening partition of stalls, but was lying
+down on the straw. Nothing said or done would induce the horse to
+rise, and the hostler told Bideabout that he believed the beast
+was really lame. It had been overworked at its advanced age, and
+must be afforded rest.
+
+"He's a Radical," said the Broom-Squire. "You move that gray into
+another stable and Clutch will forget about his lameness, I dare
+swear. He's twenty-five and has a liquorish eye, still--it's
+shameful."
+
+Bideabout was constrained to walk from Godalming to the Punch-Bowl,
+and this did not serve to mend his humor. He reached home late at
+night, when the basin was full of darkness, and the only light
+that showed came from the chamber where Mehetabel sat with her baby.
+
+When Jonas entered, he saw by the rushlight that she was not
+undressed, and heard by her voice that she was anxious.
+
+"The baby is very unwell, Jonas," she said, and extending her hand,
+lit a tallow candle at the meagre flame of the rushlight.
+
+As the wick flared, so did something flare up in the face of the
+Broom-Squire.
+
+"Why do you look like that?" asked Mehetabel, for the look did not
+escape her.
+
+"Main't I look as I choose?" he inquired surlily.
+
+"It almost seemed as if you were glad to hear that my poor darling
+is ill," complained she.
+
+"Ain't I glad to be home after bein' abroad all day a-wackin', and
+abusin' of old Clutch, and then had to walk from Gorlmyn (Godalming),
+and the aggravation of knowin' how as the hoss be shakin' his sides
+laughin' at me for doin of it. Wot's up with the kid?"
+
+"I really cannot tell, Jonas; he's been restless and moaning all
+day. I have not been able to get him to sleep, and I am sure he
+has had one or two fits. He became white and stiff. I thought he'd
+a-died, and then my heartstrings were like breaking."
+
+"Oh, drat your heartstrings, I don't care to hear of them. So, you
+thort he was dyin'. Perhaps he may. More wun'erful things happen
+than that. It's the way of half the babies as is born."
+
+"It will kill me if mine is taken from me!" cried Mehetabel, and
+cast herself on her knees and embraced the cradle, regardless of
+the sprigs of spiked leaves she had stuck round it, and burst into
+an agony of tears.
+
+"Now look here," said Jonas; "I've been tried enough wi' old Clutch
+to-day, and I don't want to be worreted at night wi' you. Let the
+baby sleep if it is sleepin', and get me my vittles. There's others
+to attend to in the world than squawlin' brats. It's spoilin' the
+child you are. That's what is the meanin' of its goings-on. Leave
+it alone, and take no notice, and it'll find out quick enough that
+squeals don't pay. I want my supper. Go after the vittles."
+
+Mehetabel lay in her clothes that night. The child continued to be
+restless and fretted. Jonas was angry. If he was out all day he
+expected to rest well at night; and she carried the cradle in her
+arms into the spare room, where the peevishness of the child, and
+the rocking and her lullaby could not disturb her husband. As she
+bore the cradle, the sprigs of butcher's broom and withered
+chrysanthemums fell and strewed her path, leaving behind her a
+trail of dying flowers, and of piercing thorns, and berries like
+blood-drops. No word of sympathy had the Broom-Squire uttered; no
+token had he shown that he regarded her woes and was solicitous
+for the welfare of his child. Mehetabel asked for neither. She had
+learned to expect nothing from him, and she had ceased to demand
+of him what he was incapable of giving, or unwilling to show.
+
+Next morning Mehetabel was prompt to prepare breakfast for her
+husband. The day was fine, but the light streaming in through the
+window served to show how jaded she was with long watching, with
+constant attention, and with harrowing care.
+
+Always punctilious to be neat, she had smoothed her hair, tidied
+her dress, and washed the tears from her face, but she could not
+give brightness to the dulled eye or bloom to the worn cheek.
+
+For a while the child was quiet, stupefied with weariness and long
+crying. By the early light Mehetabel had studied the little face,
+hungering after tokens of recovering powers, glad that the drawn
+features were relaxed temporarily.
+
+"Where are you going to-day, Bideabout?" she asked, timidly,
+expecting a rebuff.
+
+"Why do you ask?' was his churlish answer.
+
+"Because--oh! if I might have a doctor for baby!"
+
+"A doctor!" he retorted. "Are we princes and princesses, that we
+can afford that? There's no doctor nigher than Hazelmere, and I
+ain't goin' there. I suppose cos you wos given the name of a
+Duchess of Edom, you've got these expensive ideas in your head.
+Wot's the good of doctors to babies? Babies can't say what ails
+them."
+
+"If--if--" began Mehetabel, kindly, "if I might have a doctor, and
+pay for it out of that fifteen pound that father let me have."
+
+"That fifteen pound ain't no longer yours. And this be fine game,
+throwin' money away on doctors when we're on the brink of ruin.
+Don't you know as how the bank has failed, and all my money gone?
+The fifteen pound is gone with the rest."
+
+"If you had but allowed me to keep it, it would not have been lost
+now," said Mehetabel.
+
+"I ain't goin' to have no doctors here," said Bideabout, positively,
+"but I'll tell you what I'll do, and that's about as much as can be
+expected in reason. I'm goin' to Gorlmyn to fetch old Clutch; and
+I'll see a surgeon there and tell him whatever you like--and get
+a mixture for the child. But I won't pay more than half-a-crown,
+and that's wasted. I don't believe in doctors and their paint and
+water, as they gives us."
+
+Jonas departed, and then the tired and anxious mother again turned
+to her child. The face was white spotted with crimson, the closed
+lids blue.
+
+There was no certainty when Bideabout would return, but assuredly
+not before evening, as he walked to Godalming, and if he rode home
+on the lame horse, the pace would be slower than a walk.
+
+Surely she could obtain advice and help from some of the mothers
+in the Punch-Bowl. Sally Rocliffe she would not consult. The gleam
+of kindness that had shone out of her when Mehetabel was in her
+trouble had long ago been quenched.
+
+When the babe woke she muffled it in her shawl and carried the
+mite to the cottage of the Boxalls. The woman of that family,
+dark-skinned and gypsy-like, with keen black eyes, was within, and
+received the young mother graciously. Mehetabel unfolded her
+treasure and laid it on her knees--the child was now quiet, through
+exhaustion.
+
+"I'll tell y' what I think," said Karon Boxall, "that child has
+been overlooked--ill-wished."
+
+Mehetabel opened her eyes wide with terror.
+
+"That's just about the long and short of it," continued Mrs. Boxall.
+"Do you see that little vein there, the color of 'urts. That's a
+sure sign. Some one bears the poor creature no love, and has cast
+an evil eye on it."
+
+The unhappy mother's blood ran chill. This, which to us seems
+ridiculous and empty, was a grave and terrible reality to her mind.
+
+"Who has done it?" she asked below her breath.
+
+"That's not for me to say," answered the woman. "It is some one
+who doesn't love the babe, that's sure."
+
+"A man or a woman?"
+
+Mrs. Boxall stooped over the infant.
+
+"A woman," she said, with assurance. "The dark vein be on the left
+han' side."
+
+Mehetabel's thoughts ran to Sally Rocliffe. There was no other
+woman who could have felt ill-feeling against the hapless infant,
+now on her lap.
+
+"What can I do?" she asked.
+
+"There's nothin'. Misfortune and wastin' away will be to the
+child--though they do say, if you was to take it to Thor's Stone,
+and carry it thrice round, way of the sun, you might cast off the
+ill-wish. But I can't say. I never tried it."
+
+"I cannot take it there," cried Mehetabel, despairingly, "the
+weather is too cold, baby too ill."
+
+Then clasping the child to her bosom, and swaying herself, she
+sobbed forth--
+
+  "A little fish swims in the well.
+   So in my heart does baby dwell,
+   The king has sceptre, crown and ball,
+   You are my sceptre, crown and all."
+
+She went home sobbing, and hugging her child, holding it away from
+the house of Sarah Rocliffe, lest that woman might be looking forth
+at her window, and deepen by her glance the spell that held and
+broke down her child.
+
+Towards evening fall Jonas returned.
+
+Directly he crossed the threshold, with palpitating eagerness
+Mehetabel asked--
+
+"Have you seen the doctor?"
+
+"Yes," he answered curtly.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He'd got a pass'l o' learned names of maladies--I can't recollect
+them all. Tain't like as I should."
+
+"But--did he give you any medicine?"
+
+"Yes, I had to pay for it too."
+
+"Oh, Jonas, do give it me, and tell me, are you quite sure you
+explained to him exactly what ailed baby?"
+
+"I reckon I did."
+
+"And the bottle, Jonas?"
+
+"Don't be in such a won'erful hurry. I've other things to do than
+get that put yet. How is the child?"
+
+"Rather better."
+
+"Better!" he echoed, and Mehetabel, who looked intently in his
+face, saw no sign of satisfaction, rather of disappointment.
+
+"Oh, Jonas!" she cried, "is it naught to you that baby is so ill?
+You surely don't want him to die?"
+
+He turned fiercely on her, his face hard and gray, and his teeth
+shining--
+
+"What makes you say that--you?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Jonas, only you don't seem to care a bit about baby,
+and rather to have a delight in his bein' so ill."
+
+"He's better, you say?"
+
+"Yes--I really do think it."
+
+There was an unpleasant expression in his face that frightened her.
+Was it the eye of Jonas that had blighted the child? But no--Karon
+Boxall had said that it was ill-wished by a woman. Jonas left the
+room, ascended the stairs, and strode about in the chamber overhead.
+
+Swaying in her chair, holding the infant to her heart, the sole
+heart that loved it, but loved it with a love ineffable, she heard
+her husband open the window, and then hastily shut it again. Then
+there was a pause in his movement overhead, and he came shortly
+after down the stairs. He held a phial in his hand--and without
+looking at Mehetabel, thrust it towards her, with the curt
+injunction, "Take."
+
+"Perhaps," said the young mother, "as my darling is better, I need
+not give him the medicine."
+
+"That's just like your ways," exclaimed the Broom-Squire, savagely.
+"Fust I get no rest till I promise to go to the doctor, and then
+when I've put myself about to go, and bring the bottle as has cost
+me half-a-crown, you won't have it."
+
+"Indeed--it is only----"
+
+"Oh, yes--only--to annoy me. The child is ill. I told the doctor
+all, and he said, that this would set it to rights and give it
+sleep, and rest to all of us." He was in a bad temper. Mehetabel
+did not venture to say more. She took the phial and placed it on
+the table. It was not wrapped up in paper.
+
+Then Jonas hastily went forth. He had old Clutch to attend to.
+
+Mehetabel remained alone, and looked at the medicine bottle; then
+she laid the infant on her knees and studied the little face, so
+blanched with dark rings round the eyes. The tiny hands were drawn
+up on the breast and clasped; she unfolded and kissed them.
+
+Then she looked again at the phial.
+
+There was something strange about it. The contents did not appear
+to have been well mixed, the upper portion of the fluid was dark,
+the lower portion white. How came this about? Jonas had ridden old
+Clutch home, and the movements of the horse were not smooth. The
+bottle in the pocket of Bideabout must have undergone such shaking
+as would have made the fluid contents homogeneous and of one hue.
+She held the bottle between herself and the light. There was no
+doubt about it, either the liquid separated rapidly, or had never
+been mixed.
+
+She withdrew the cork and applied the mouth of the phial to her
+nose.
+
+The scent of the medicine was familiar. It was peculiar. When had
+she smelt that odor before. Then she started. She remembered the
+little bottle containing laudanum, with the death's head on it, in
+the closet upstairs.
+
+Hastily, her heart beating with apprehension, she laid her babe in
+the cradle, and taking the light, mounted to the upper chamber. She
+possessed the key of the cabinet in the wall. She had retained it
+because afraid to give it up, and Jonas had manufactured for
+himself a fresh key.
+
+Now she unlocked the closet, and at once discovered the laudanum
+bottle.
+
+It was half empty.
+
+Some of it had been used.
+
+How had it been used? Of that she had little doubt. The dangerous,
+sleep-bringing laudanum had been put into the medicine for the
+child. It was to make room for that that Jonas had opened the
+window and poured forth some of the contents.
+
+A drop still hung on the top of the phial.
+
+She shut and relocked the cupboard, descended, with dismay, despair
+in her heart, and taking the bottle from the table, dashed it into
+the fire upon the hearth. Then she caught her babe to her, and
+through floods of tears, sobbed: "There is none love thee but
+I--but I--but only I! O, my babe, my babe! My sceptre, crown, and
+all!"
+
+In the blinding rain of tears, in the tumult of passion that
+obscured her eyes, that confused her brain, Mehetabel saw, heard
+nothing. She had but one sense--that of feeling, that thrilled
+through one fibre only attached to the helpless, suffering morsel
+in her arms--the infant she held to her breast, and which she would
+have liked to bury in her heart away from all danger, concealed
+from the malevolent eye, and the murderous hand.
+
+All the mother's nature in her was roused and flared into madness.
+She alone loved this little creature, she alone stood between it
+and destruction. She would fight for it, defend it to her last
+breath, with every weapon wherewith she was endowed by nature.
+
+After the first paroxysm of passion was passed, and a lull of
+exhaustion ensued, she looked up, and saw Bideabout enter, and
+as he entered he cast a furtive glance at the table, then at the
+child.
+
+In a moment she resolved on the course she should adopt.
+
+"Have you given the babe the draught?" he asked, with averted face.
+
+"Not all."
+
+"Of course, not all."
+
+"Will it make baby sleep?" asked Mehetabel.
+
+"O, sleep--sleep! yes--we shall have rest for one night--for many,
+I trust. O, do not doubt. It will make it sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+A MENACED LIFE.
+
+
+As soon as the Broom-Squire had gone out again to the "hog-pen," as a
+pigstye is called in Surrey, to give the pig its "randams and
+crammins," because Mehetabel was unable to do this because unable
+to leave the child, then she knelt by the hearth, put aside the
+turves, and, regardless of the fire, groped for the fragments of
+the broken phial, that nothing might betray to Bideabout her
+having rejected the medicine with which he had tampered.
+
+She cut and burnt her fingers, but in the excitement of her
+feelings, was insensible to pain.
+
+She had removed and secreted the glass before he returned. The babe
+was sleeping heavily, and snoring.
+
+When Jonas came in and heard the sound from the cradle, a look of
+expectation came over his face.
+
+"The child's burrin' like a puckeridge (night-jar)," he said.
+"Shouldn't wonder if the medicine ain't done him a lot o' good. It
+don't need a doctor to come and see to prescribe for a baby. All
+that little ones want is good sleep, and natur' does the rest."
+
+Owing to the annoyance caused to Bideabout by the child's
+fretfulness during the night, Mehetabel occupied a separate
+chamber, the spare bedroom, along with her babe, and spent her
+broken nights under the great blue and white striped tent that
+covered the bed.
+
+She had enjoyed but little sleep for several nights, and her days
+had been occupied by the necessary attention to the suffering child
+and the cares of the household. Because the babe was ill, that was
+no reason why his father's meals should be neglected, and because
+the mother was overwrought, he was not disposed to relieve her of
+the duties to the pigs and cows save on this one occasion.
+
+That the poor little infant was really more at ease was obvious to
+the mother's watchful eye and anxious heart, but whether this were
+due to its malady, whatever that was, having taken a felicitous
+turn, or to mere exhaustion of powers, she was unable to decide,
+and her fears almost overbalanced her hopes.
+
+She retired to sleep that night without much expectation of being
+able to obtain sleep. Her nerves were overstrung, and at times
+thought in her mind came to a standstill; it was as though a
+sudden hush came on all within her, so that neither did heart
+beat nor breath come. But for these pauses, her mind might have
+given way, a string have snapped, and her faculties have fallen
+into disorder.
+
+It is said of Talleyrand that he needed no sleep, as his pulse
+ceased to beat after a certain number of strokes, for a brief
+space, and then resumed pulsation. During that pause, his physical
+and mental powers had time for recuperation. Be that as it may, it
+is certain that to some persons whose minds and feelings are put
+to extraordinary tension, greatly prolonged, there do come these
+halts in which all is blank, the brain ceases to think, and the
+heart to feel, and such gaps in the sequence of thought and emotion
+have a salutary effect.
+
+Mehetabel did not undress. She had not put off her clothing for
+several nights. The night was cold, and she would probably have
+to be incessantly on the move, to meet the little sufferer's
+necessities, as they arose, and to watch it, whenever her fears
+prevailed over her hopes, and made her think that a protracted
+quiet was ominous.
+
+The only light in the room emanated from a smouldering rush,
+sustained in a tall iron holder, the lower end of which was planted
+in a block of oak, and stood on the floor. Such holders, now
+become very scarce, were furnished with snuffers, so contrived
+that the rushlight had to be taken out of its socket and snuffed
+by them, instead of their being brought to the rush.
+
+Of rushlights there were two kinds, one, the simplest, consisted
+of a dry rush dipped in a little grease. The light emitted from
+such a candle was feeble in the extreme. The second, a superior
+rushlight, had the rush pealed of its bark with the exception of
+one small strip which held the pith from breaking. This pith was
+dipped in boiling fat, and when the tallow had condensed it was
+dipped again, and the candle given as many coats as was desired.
+Such a rushlight was a far more useful candle, and if it did not
+emit as large a flame and give forth so much light as a dip which
+had a cotton wick it was sufficient to serve most purposes for
+which in a farmhouse artificial illumination was required.
+
+The first and inferior sort of rushlight was that which Matabel
+allowed herself for the sick-room.
+
+When she laid her head on the pillow and threw the patched-work
+quilt over her shoulders the cool of the pillow struck through
+her head and relieved the fire that had raged therein.
+
+She could not sleep.
+
+She thought over what had happened. She considered Bideabout's
+action as calmly as possible. Was it conceivable that he should
+seek the life of his own child? He had shown it no love, but it
+was a far cry from lack of parental affection to deliberate
+attempt at murder.
+
+What gain would there be to him in the death of his child? She
+was too innocent and simple to think of Mrs. Verstage's bequest
+as supplying the motive. As far as she could find there was nothing
+to account for Jonas' desire to hasten the child's death save
+weariness at its cries which distressed him at night, and this
+was no adequate reason. There was another, but that she put from
+her in disgust. Bad as Bideabout might be she could not credit him
+with that.
+
+What was that bottle which Jonas had been given by the doctor when
+his arm was bound up? Of laudanum she knew nothing, but remembered
+that it had been recommended as a means for giving him the rest he
+so required. It was a medicine intended to produce sleep. He had
+refused it because afraid lest he should administer to himself,
+or have administered to him, an overdose which would cause him to
+sleep too soundly, and slide away into the slumber of death.
+
+It was possible that the surgeon at Godalming knew that Jonas
+possessed this phial, and had given him the medicine for the child
+along with instructions as to how many drops of the laudanum he
+was to add to the mixture, to make it serve its proper purpose.
+
+If that were so, then the Broom-Squire had acted as directed by a
+competent person and for the good of his child, and she, his wife,
+had cruelly, wickedly, misjudged him. Gentle, generous, incapable
+of harboring an evil thought, Matabel at once and with avidity
+seized on this solution, and applied it to her heart to ease its
+pain and relieve the pressure that weighed on it.
+
+Under the lightening of her anxiety caused by this Mehetabel fell
+asleep, for how long she was unable to guess. When she awoke it was
+not that she heard the cry of her child, but that she was aware of
+a tread on the floor that made the bed vibrate.
+
+Instead of starting up, she unclosed her eyes, and saw in the
+room a figure that she at once knew was that of Jonas. He was
+barefooted, and but partially dressed. He had softly unhasped the
+door and stolen in on tip-toe. Mehetabel was surprised. It was
+not his wont to leave his bed at night, certainly not for any
+concern he felt relative to the child; yet now he was by the
+cradle, and was stooping over it with his head turned, so that
+his ear was applied in a manner that showed he was listening to
+the child's breathing. As his face was turned the feeble light of
+the smouldering rushlight was on it.
+
+Mehetabel did not stir. It was a pleasing revelation to her that
+the father's heart had warmed to his child, and that he was
+sufficiently solicitous for the feeble life to be disturbed
+thereby at night.
+
+Jonas remained listening for a minute, then he rose erect and
+retreated from the chamber on tiptoe and closed the door noiselessly
+behind him.
+
+A smile of pleasure came on Mehetabel's lips, the first that had
+creamed them for many a week, and she slipped away again into
+sleep, to be aroused after a brief period by the restlessness and
+exclamations of the child that woke with hunger.
+
+Then promptly she rose up, went to the cradle, and lifted the
+child out, coaxed it and sang to the infant as she seated herself
+on the bedside nursing it.
+
+As she swayed herself, holding the child, the door that was ajar
+opened slightly, and by the feeble light of the rush she could
+discern something without, and the flame was reflected in human
+eyes.
+
+"Is that you, Jonas?" she called.
+
+There was no reply, but she could hear soft steps withdrawing in
+the direction of his room.
+
+"He is ashamed of letting me see how anxious he is, how really
+fond of the poor pet he is in heart." As the child's hands relaxed,
+and it sobbed off to sleep, Mehetabel laid it again in the cradle.
+It was abundantly evident that the infant was getting better. In a
+couple of days, doubtless, it would be well.
+
+Glad of this, relieved of the care that had gnawed at her heart, she
+now slipped between the sheets of the bed. The babe would probably
+sleep on till dawn, and she could herself enjoy much-needed rest.
+
+Then she dreamt that she and her little one were in a fair garden
+full of flowers; the child had grown somewhat and could enjoy play.
+She thought that she was plucking violets and making a crown for
+her baby's head, and then a little staff covered with the same
+purple, fragrant flowers, to serve as sceptre, and that she
+approached her little one on her knees, and bent to it, and sang:--
+
+  "The king has sceptre, crown and ball,
+   You are my sceptre, crown, and all!"
+
+But then there fell a shadow on them, and this shadow cut off all
+light from her and from her child. She looked and saw Jonas. He
+said nothing, but stood where the sun shone and he could obscure it.
+
+She lifted her babe and moved it away from the blighting shadow
+into warmth and brightness once more. Yet was this but for a
+moment, as again the shadow of Jonas fell over them. Once more
+she moved the child, but with like result. Then with a great effort
+she rose from her knees, carrying the child to go away with it,
+far, far from Jonas--and in her effort to do so woke.
+
+She woke to see by the expiring rush-candle and the raw light of
+early dawn, that the Broom-Squire was in the room, and was stooping
+over the cradle. Still drunk with sleep, she did not stir, did not
+rally her senses at once.
+
+Then she beheld how he lifted the pillow from under the infants
+head, went down on his knees, and thrust the pillow in upon the
+child's face, holding it down resolutely with a hand on each side.
+
+With a shriek of horror, Mehetabel sprang out of bed and rushed
+at him, stayed his arms, and unable to thrust them back, caught
+the cradle and plucked it to her, and released the babe, that
+gasped--seized it in her arms, glued it to her bosom, and dashing
+past Jonas before he had risen to his feet, ran down the stairs,
+and left the house--never to enter it again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+SHUT OUT.
+
+
+A raw gray morning.
+
+Mehetabel had run forth into it with nothing over her head, no
+shawl about her shoulders, with hair tangled, and eyes dazed,
+holding her child to her heart, with full resolve never again to
+set foot across the threshold of the farmhouse of Jonas Kink.
+
+No doubt whatever remained now in her mind that the Broom-Squire
+had endeavored to compass the death of his child, first by means
+of poison, and then by suffocation.
+
+Nothing would ever induce her again to risk the precious life of
+her child at his hands. She had no thought whither she should go,
+how she should live--her sole thought was to escape from Jonas,
+and by putting a distance between herself and him, place the infant
+beyond danger.
+
+As she ran up the lane from the house she encountered Sally Rocliffe
+at the well head.
+
+"Where be you goyne to, like that; and with the child, too?" asked
+the woman.
+
+Mehetabel drew the little face of the babe to her, lest the eye of
+its aunt should light on it. She could not speak, palpitating with
+fear, as she was.
+
+"What be you runnin' out for this time o' the mornin'?" asked Mrs.
+Rocliffe again.
+
+"I cannot tell you," gasped the mother.
+
+"But I will know."
+
+"I shall never, never go back again," cried Mehetabel.
+
+"Oh! he's kicked you out, has he? That's like Jonas."
+
+"I'm runnin' away.
+
+"And where be yo goyne to?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"But I do," said Mrs. Rocliffe with a chuckle.
+
+Mehetabel gave no thought to her words. She thrust past her, and
+ran on.
+
+Fear, love, gave strength to her limbs. She had no consideration
+for herself, that she was dishevelled and incompletely clad, that
+she had eaten nothing; she sped up the side of the Common, to
+escape from the Punch-Bowl, the place where she had weltered in
+misery. There was no hope for her and her child till she had
+escaped from that.
+
+In the cold air, charged with moisture, the larks were singing.
+A ploughboy was driving his horses to the field that was to be
+turned up by the share.
+
+As she passed him he stared at her with surprise. She reached the
+village. The blacksmith was up and about; he was preparing to put
+a tire on a cart-wheel. For this purpose he had just kindled a
+fire of turf "bats," that were heaped round the fire on the ground
+outside the forge. He looked up with astonishment as Mehetabel
+sped past, and cast to her the question, "Wot's up?" which,
+however, she did not stay to answer.
+
+She made no tarry till she reached the Ship Inn. There she entered
+the porch, and would have gone through the door into the house,
+had she not been confronted by Polly, the maid, who at that moment
+was coming up the passage from the bar.
+
+Polly made no attempt to give room for Mehetabel to pass; she
+saluted her with a stare and a look at her from head to feet, full
+of insolence.
+
+"Wot do you want?" asked the girl.
+
+"I wish to see and speak to father," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"I always heard as your father lies in Thursley Churchyard,"
+answered the servant.
+
+"I mean I should like to speak with Mr. Verstage."
+
+"Oh! the landlord?"
+
+"Yes; the landlord. Where is he?"
+
+"Don' know. Somewhere about, I reckon."
+
+"It is cold, and my child is ill. I would go into the kitchen, by
+the fire."
+
+"Why don't you then go home?"
+
+"I have no home."
+
+"Oh! it's come to that, is it?"
+
+"Yes. Let me in."
+
+"No, indeed. This ain't the place for you. If you think you're
+goyne to be mistress and order about here you're mistaken. You go
+along; I'm goyne to shut the door."
+
+Mehetabel had not the spirit to resent this insolence.
+
+She turned in the porch and left the inn, that had once been her
+home, and the only home in which she had found happiness.
+
+She made her way to the fields that belonged to Simon Verstage,
+and after wandering through a ploughed glebe she found him.
+
+"Ah, Matabel!" said he, "glad to see you. What brings you here so
+early in the day?"
+
+"Dear father, I cannot tell you all, but I have left Bideabout.
+I can stay with him no longer, something has happened. Do not
+press me to tell--at least not now. I can never return to the
+Punch-Bowl. Will you take me in?"
+
+The old man mused.
+
+"I'll consult Polly. I don't know what she'll say to it. I'm rather
+dependent on her now. You see, I know nothing of the house, I
+always put that into Susanna's charge, and now poor Sanna is gone,
+Polly has taken the management. Of course, she makes mistakes, but
+wun'erfully few. In fact, it is wun'erful how she fits into Sanna's
+place, and manages the house and all--just as if she had been
+brought up to it. I'll go and ask her. I couldn't say yes without,
+much as I might wish."
+
+Mehetabel shook her head.
+
+The old man was become feeble and dependent. He had no longer a
+will of his own:
+
+"I will not trouble you, dear father, to ask Polly. I am quite
+sure what her answer will be. I must go further. Who is Guardian?"
+
+"That's Timothy Puttenham, the wheelwright."
+
+Then Mehetabel turned back in the direction of the village and
+came in front of the shop. Puttenham and his apprentice were
+engaged on the fire, and Mehetabel stood, with the babe folded
+in her arms, watching them at work. They might not be disturbed
+at the critical period when the tire was red hot and had to be
+fitted to the wheel.
+
+A circle of flame and glowing ashes and red-hot iron was on the
+ground. At a little distance lay a flat iron disc, called the
+"platform"; with a pole in the centre through which ran a spindle.
+On this metal plate lay a new cast wheel, and the wright with a
+bar screwed a nut so as to hold the cart-wheel down firmly on the
+"platform."
+
+"Now, boy, the pincers!"
+
+Then he, grasping a long pair of forceps, his apprentice with
+another, laid hold of the glowing tire, and raising it from the
+fire carried it scintillating to the wheel, lifted it over the
+spindle, and dropped it about the woodwork. Then, at once, they
+seized huge hammers and began to belabor the tire, to drive it
+on to the wheel, which smoked and flamed.
+
+"Water, boy, water!"
+
+The apprentice threw water from a pitcher over the tire throughout
+its circumference, dulling its fire, and producing clouds of steam.
+
+Mehetabel, well aware that at this juncture the wright must not be
+interfered with, drew close to the fire, and kneeling by it warmed
+herself and the sleeping child, whilst she watched the sturdy men
+whirling their hammers and beating the tire down into place around
+the wheel.
+
+At length the wright desisted. He leaned on his great hammer; and
+then Mehetabel timidly addressed him.
+
+"Please, Mr. Puttenham, are you not Guardian of the Poor?"
+
+"Certainly, Mrs. Kink."
+
+"May I be put in the Poors' House?"
+
+"You!"
+
+The wheelwright opened his eyes very wide.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Puttenham, I have no home."
+
+"Why, Matabel! What is the sense of this? Your home is in the
+Punch-Bowl."
+
+"I have left it."
+
+"Then you must return to it again."
+
+"I cannot. Take me into the Poors' House."
+
+"My good girl, this is rank nonsense. The Poor House is not for
+you, or such as you."
+
+"I need its shelter more than most. I have no home."
+
+"Are you gone off your head?"
+
+"No, sir. My mind is sound, but to the Punch-Bowl I cannot, and
+will not, return. No, never!"
+
+"Matabel," said the wheelwright, "I suppose you and Jonas have had
+a quarrel. Bless you! Such things happen in married life, over and
+over again, and you'll come together and love each other all the
+better for these tiffs. I know it by experience."
+
+"I cannot go back! I will not go back!"
+
+"It is not cannot or will not--it is a case of must. That is your
+home. But this I will do for you. Go in and ask my old woman to
+let you have some breakfast, and I'll send Jack"--he signed to his
+apprentice--"and bid him tell Bideabout where you are, and let
+him fetch you. We mustn't have a scandal."
+
+"If Jonas comes, I shall run away."
+
+"Whither?"
+
+That Mehetabel could not say.
+
+"Where can you go? Nowhere, save to your husband's house. For
+God's sake!" he suddenly exclaimed, knocking his hammer on the
+tire, "don't say you are going to Guildford--to Iver Verstage."
+
+Mehetabel raised her heavy eyes, and looked the wheelwright
+frankly in the face. "I would rather throw myself and baby into
+one of the Hammer Ponds than do that."
+
+"Right! You're a good gal. But there was no knowing. Folks talk.
+Come in! You shall have something--and rest a while."
+
+The kind, well-intentioned man laid his large hand on her shoulder
+and almost forced her, but gently, towards the house. She would
+not enter the door till he had promised not to send for Jonas.
+
+Selena Puttenham, the wright's wife, was a loquacious and inquisitive
+woman, and she allowed Mehetabel no rest. She gave her bread and
+milk with readiness, and probed her with questions which Mehetabel
+could not answer without relating the whole horrible truth, and
+this she was resolved not to do.
+
+The wright was busy, and could not remain in his cottage. The wife,
+with the kindest intentions, was unable to restrain herself from
+putting her guest on the rack. The condition of Mehetabel was one
+to rouse curiosity. Why was she there, with her baby, in the early
+morning? Without having even covered her head; fasted and jaded?
+Had there been a quarrel. If so--about what? Had Bideabout beaten
+her? Had he thrust her out and locked the door? If so, in what had
+she offended him? Had she been guilty of some grievous misdemeanor?
+
+At length, unable further to endure the torture to which she was
+subjected, Mehetabel sprang up, and insisted on leaving the cottage.
+
+Without answering Mrs. Puttenham's question as to whither she was
+going, what were her intentions, the unhappy girl hastened out of
+the village clasping in her arms the child, which had begun to sob.
+
+And now she made her way towards Witley, of which Thursley was a
+daughter parish. She would find the Vicar, who had always treated
+her with consideration, and even affection. The distance was
+considerable, in her weary condition, but she plodded on in hopes.
+He was a man of position and authority, and she could trust him to
+protect her and the child. To him she would tell all, in confidence
+that he would not betray her secret.
+
+At length, so fagged that she could hardly walk, her arms cramped
+and aching, her nerves thrilling, because the child was crying,
+and would not be comforted, she reached the Vicarage, and rang at
+the back door bell. Some time elapsed before the door was opened;
+and then the babe was screaming so vociferously, and struggling in
+her arms with such energy, that she was not able to make herself
+heard when she asked for the Parson.
+
+The woman who had answered the summons was a stranger, consequently
+did not know Mehetabel. She made signs to her to go away.
+
+The cries of the child became more violent, and the mother's
+efforts were directed towards pacifying it. "Let me come in, I
+pray! I pray!" she asked with a brow, in spite of the cold, bathed
+in perspiration.
+
+"I cannot! I must not!" answered the woman. She caught her by the
+arm, drew her aside, and said--"Do you not know? Look! the blinds
+are all down. He died in the night!"
+
+"Dead!" cried Mehetabel, reeling back. "My God! whither shall I go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+AT THE SILK MILL.
+
+
+Mehetabel sank on the grass by the drive.
+
+"I am worn out. I can go no further," she said, and bowed her head
+over the child.
+
+"You cannot remain here. It is not seemly--a house of mourning,"
+said the woman.
+
+"He would not mind, were he alive," sobbed Mehetabel. "He would
+have cared for me and my babe; he was always kind."
+
+"But he is not alive; that makes the difference," said the servant.
+"You really must still the child or go away."
+
+"I cannot go another step," answered Mehetabel, raising her head
+and sinking it again, after she had spoken.
+
+"I don't know what to do. This is unreasonable; I'll go call the
+gardener. If you won't go when asked you must be removed by force."
+
+The woman retired, and presently the gardener came up. He knew
+Mehetabel--that is to say, knew who she was.
+
+"Come," said he, "my cottage is just yonder. You must not remain
+here on the green, and in the cold. No wonder the child screams.
+There is a fire in my house, and you can have what you like for a
+while, till you are rested. Give me your hand."
+
+Mehetabel allowed him to raise her, and she followed him mechanically
+from the drive into the cottage, that was warm and pleasant.
+
+"There now, missus," said the man; "make yourself comfortable for
+an hour or two."
+
+The rest, the warmth, were grateful to Mehetabel. She was almost
+too weary to thank the man with words, but she looked at him with
+gratitude, and he felt that her heart was over full for her to
+speak. He returned to his work, and left her to herself. There was
+no one else in the cottage, as he was a widower, and had no family.
+
+After a considerable time, when Mehetabel had had time to recruit
+her strength, he reappeared. The short winter day was already
+closing in. The cold black vapors rose over the sky, obscuring the
+little light, as though grudging the earth its brief period of
+illumination.
+
+"I thought I'd best come, you know," said the man, "just to tell
+you that I'm sorry, but I can't receive you here for the night.
+I'm a widower, and folk might talk. Why are you from home?"
+
+"I ran away. I cannot return to the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"Well, now. That's curious!" said the gardener. "Time out of mind
+I've had it in my head to run away when my old woman was rampageous.
+I've knowed a man who actually did run to Americay becos his wife
+laid on him so. But I never, in my experience, heard of a woman
+runnin' away from her husband, that is to say--alone. You ain't
+got no one with you, now?"
+
+"Yes, my baby."
+
+"I don't mean that. Well, it is coorious, a woman runnin' away
+with her baby. I'm terrible sorry, but I can't take you in above
+another half-hour. Where are you thinking of goyne to?"
+
+"I know of no where and no one."
+
+"Why not try Missus Chivers at Thursley. You was at her school, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Yes, I was there."
+
+"Try her, and all will come right in the end."
+
+Mehetabel rose; her child was now asleep.
+
+"Look here," said the gardener. "Here's a nice plaid shawl, as
+belonged to my missus, and a wun'erful old bonnet of hers--as the
+cat has had kittens in since she went to her rest--and left me to
+mine. You are heartily welcome. I can't let you turn out in the
+cold with nothing on your head nor over your shoulders."
+
+Mehetabel gladly accepted the articles of clothing offered her.
+She had already eaten of what the man had placed on the table for
+her, when he left the house. She could not burden him longer with
+her presence, as he was obviously nervous about his character,
+lest it should suffer should he harbor her. Thanking him, she
+departed, and walked back to Thursley through the gathering gloom.
+
+Betty Chivers kept a dame's school, in which she had instructed
+the children of Thursley in the alphabet, simple summing, and in
+the knowledge and fear of God. With the march of the times we have
+abolished dames schools, and cut away thereby a means of livelihood
+from many a worthy woman; but what is worse, have driven the little
+ones into board schools, that are godless, where they are taught
+to despise manual labor, and to grow up without moral principle.
+Our schools are like dockyards, whence expensively-equipped vessels
+are launched provided with everything except ballast, which will
+prevent their capsizing in the first squall. The Vicar of Witley
+had been one of those men, in advance of his time, who had initiated
+this system.
+
+Whatever of knowledge of good, and of discipline of conscience
+Mehetabel possessed, was obtained from Mrs. Susanna Verstage, or
+from old Betty Chivers.
+
+We are told that if we cast our bread on the waters, we shall find
+it after many days. But simple souls are too humble to recognize
+it.
+
+So was it with Goodie Chivers.
+
+That Mehetabel, through all her trials, acted as a woman of
+principle, clung to what she knew to be right, was due very largely
+to the old dame's instructions, but Betty was too lowly-minded for
+one instant to allow this, even to suspect it.
+
+Our Board School masters and mistresses have quite as little
+suspicion that they have sowed the seed which sprung up in the
+youths who are dismissed from offices for defalcation, and the
+girls who leave menial service to walk the streets.
+
+Mrs. Chivers was glad to see Mehetabel when she entered. She had
+heard talk about her--that she had run away from her husband, and
+was wandering through the country with her babe; and having a
+tender heart, and a care for all her old pupils, she had felt
+anxious concerning her.
+
+Mehetabel pleaded to be taken in for the night, and to this Mrs.
+Chivers readily consented. She would share her bed with the mother
+and the child, as well as her crust of bread and cup of thin tea.
+Of milk, in her poverty, the old woman allowed herself but a few
+drops, and of butter with her bread none at all.
+
+Yet what she had, that she cheerfully divided with Mehetabel.
+
+On the morrow, after a restful sleep, the young wife started for a
+silk mill on one of those Hammer ponds that occupied a depression
+in the Common. These ponds were formed at the time when iron was
+worked in the district, and the ponds, as their name implies, were
+for the storage of water to beat out the iron by means of large
+hammers, set in motion by a wheel. When these ponds were constructed
+is not known. The trees growing on the embankments that hold back
+the water are of great size and advanced age.
+
+One of these ponds, at the time of our tale, was utilized for a
+silk mill.
+
+On reaching the silk mill, she timidly asked for the manufacturer.
+She knew him slightly, as he had been occasionally to the "Ship,"
+where he had lodged a guest at one time when his house was full,
+and at another to call on a fisherman who was an acquaintance, and
+who was staying there. He was a blunt man, with a very round head
+and a very flat face. His name was Lilliwhite. He had exchanged
+words with Mehetabel when she was at the inn, and had always been
+kindly in his address.
+
+When she was shown into his office, as ill-luck would have it at
+once the child became fretful and cried.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Mehetabel. "I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I wish you would be so good, sir, as to let me do some work
+for you in the mill."
+
+"You, Mehetabel! Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"Please, sir, I have left the Punch-Bowl. I cannot stay there any
+longer. Do not ask me the reasons. They are good ones, but I had
+rather not tell them. I must now earn my own livelihood, and--"
+She was unable to proceed owing to the wailing of the infant.
+
+"Look here, my dear," said the silk weaver, "I cannot hear you on
+account of the noise, and as I have something to attend to, I will
+leave you here alone for a few minutes, whilst I look to my
+business. I will return shortly, when the young dragon has ceased
+rampaging. I dare say it is hungry."
+
+Then the good-natured man departed, and Mehetabel used her best
+endeavors to reduce her child to quiet. It was not hungry, it was
+not cold. It was in pain. She could feed it, she could warm it, but
+she knew not how to give it that repose which it so much needed.
+
+After some minutes had elapsed, Mr. Lilliwhite looked in again,
+but as the child was still far from pacified, he retired once more.
+
+Twenty minutes to half-an-hour had passed before the feeble wails
+of the infant had decreased in force, and had died away wholly,
+and then the manufacturer returned, smiling, to his office.
+
+"'Pon my soul," said he, "I believe this is the first time my
+shop has been turned into a nursery. Come now, before the Dragon
+of Wantley is awake and roaring, tell me what you want."
+
+Mehetabel repeated her request.
+
+"There is no one I would more willingly oblige," said he. "You
+have ever conducted yourself well, and have been industrious. But
+there are difficulties in the way. First and foremost, the Dragon
+of Wantley."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir."
+
+"I mean the child. What will you do with it? If you come here,
+engaged by me, you must be at the mill at seven o'clock in the
+morning. There is an hour for dinner at noon, and the mill hands
+are released at five o'clock in the afternoon in winter and six in
+summer. What will the Dragon do all the time its mother is spinning
+silk? You cannot have the creature here--and away, who will care
+for it? Who feed it?"
+
+"I had thought of leaving my baby at Mrs. Chivers'."
+
+"That is nonsense," said the silk weaver. "The Dragon won't be
+spoon-fed. Its life depends on its getting its proper, natural
+nourishment. So that won't do. As for having it here--that's an
+impossibility. Much you would attend to the spindles when the
+Dragon was bellowing. Besides, it would distract the other girls.
+So you see, this won't do. And there are other reasons. I couldn't
+receive you without your husband's consent. But the Dragon remains
+as the insuperable difficulty. Fiddle-de-dee, Matabel! Don't think
+of it. For your own sake, for the Dragon's sake, I say it won't do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+BY THE HAMMER POND.
+
+
+Discouraged at her lack of success, Mehetabel now turned her steps
+towards Thursley. She was sick at heart. It seemed to her as if
+every door of escape from her wretched condition was shut against
+her.
+
+She ascended the dip in the Common through which the stream ran
+that fed the Hammer ponds, and after leaving the sheet of water
+that supplied the silk mill, reached a brake of willow and bramble,
+through which the stream made its way from the upper pond.
+
+The soil was resolved into mud, and oozed with springs; at the
+sides broke out veins of red chalybeate water, of the color of
+brick.
+
+She started teal, that went away with a rush and frightened her
+child, which cried out, and fell into sobs.
+
+Then before her rose a huge embankment; with a sluice at the top
+over which the pond decanted and the overflow was carried a little
+way through a culvert, beneath a mound on which once had stood the
+smelting furnace, and which now dribbled forth rust-stained springs.
+
+The bank had to be surmounted, and in Mehetabel's condition it
+taxed her powers, and when she reached the top she sank out of
+breath on a fallen bole of a tree. Here she rested, with the child
+in her lap, and her head in her hand. Whither should she go? To
+whom betake herself? She had not a friend in the world save Iver,
+and it was not possible for her to appeal to him.
+
+Now, in her desolation, she understood what it was to be without a
+relative. Every one else had some one tied by blood to whom to
+apply, who would counsel, assist, afford a refuge. A nameless girl,
+brought up by the parish, with--as far as she was aware--but one
+relative in the world, her mother's sister, whose name she knew
+not, and whose existence she could not be sure of--she was indeed
+alone as no other could be.
+
+The lake lay before her steely and cold.
+
+The chill wind hissed and sobbed among the bulrushes, and in the
+coarse marsh grass that fringed the water on all sides except that
+of the dam.
+
+The stunted willows shed their broad-shaped leaves that sailed and
+drifted, formed fleets, and clustered together against the bank.
+
+The tree bole on which she was seated was rotting away; a huge
+fleshy fungus had formed on it, and the decaying timber emitted a
+charnel-house smell.
+
+Now the babe in Mehetabel's arms was quiet. It was asleep. She
+herself was weary, and quivering in all her limbs, hot and yet
+cold, with an aguish feeling. Her strength of purpose was failing
+her. She was verging on despair.
+
+She could not remain with Betty Chivers without paying for her
+lodging and for her food. The woman did but just maintain herself
+out of the little school and the post-office. She was generous and
+kind, but she had not the means to support Mehetabel, nor could
+Mehetabel ask it of her.
+
+What should she do? What the silk manufacturer had said was quite
+true. The babe stood in her way of getting employment, and the
+babe she must not leave. That little life depended on her, and
+her time, care, thought must be devoted to it.
+
+Oh, if now she could but have had that fifteen pounds which Simon
+Verstage in his providence had given her on her wedding day! With
+that she would have been easy, independent.
+
+When Jonas robbed her of the sum he cut away from her the chance
+of subsistence elsewhere save in his house--at all events at such
+a time as this.
+
+She looked dreamily at the water, that like an eye exercised a
+fascination on her.
+
+Would it not be well to cast herself into this pool, with her
+babe, and then both would be together at rest, and away from the
+cruel world that wanted them not, that rejected them, that had
+no love, no pity for them?
+
+But she put the thought resolutely from her.
+
+Presently she noticed the flat-bottomed boat usually kept on the
+pond for the convenience of fishers; it was being propelled over
+the stream in her direction. A minute later, a man seated in the
+boat ran it against the bank and stepped out, fastened the point
+to a willow stump, and came towards her.
+
+"What--is this the Squiress?"
+
+She looked up and recognized him.
+
+The man who came to her and addressed her was Mr. Markham, the
+young barrister, who had been to the Punch-Bowl to obtain the
+assistance of Jonas in wild-duck shooting.
+
+She recalled his offensively familiar manner, and was troubled to
+see him again. And yet she remembered his last remark on leaving,
+when he had offered his services to help her to free herself from
+her bondage to Jonas. The words might have been spoken in jest,
+yet now, she caught at them.
+
+He stood looking at her, and he saw both how pale she was, with a
+hectic flame in her cheek, and a feverish glitter in her eye, and
+also how beautiful she thus was.
+
+"Why," said he, "what brings you here?"
+
+"I have been to the silk mill in quest of work."
+
+"Work! Broom-Squiress, one such as you should not work. You missed
+your vocation altogether when you left the Ship. Jonas told me you
+had been there."
+
+"I was happy then."
+
+"But are you not so in the Punch-Bowl?"
+
+"No. I am very miserable. But I will not return there again."
+
+"What! fallen out with the Squire?"
+
+"He has made it impossible for me to go back."
+
+"Then whither are you bound?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+He looked at her intently.
+
+"Now, see here," said he. "Sit down on that log again from which
+you have risen and tell me all. I am a lawyer and can help you, I
+daresay."
+
+"I have not much to tell," she answered, and sank on the tree bole.
+He seated himself beside her.
+
+"There are things that have happened which have made me resolve to
+go anywhere, do anything, rather than return to Jonas. I promised
+what I could not keep when I said I would love, honor, and obey him."
+
+Then she began to sob. It touched her that this young man should
+express sympathy, offer his help.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Mr. Markham; "I am a barrister. I know the
+law, I have it at my ringers' ends, and I place myself, my knowledge
+and my abilities at your disposal. I shall feel proud, flattered to
+do so. Your beauty and your distress appeal to me irresistibly.
+Has the Squire been beating you?"
+
+"Oh, no, not that."
+
+"Then what has he done?"
+
+"There are things worse to bear than a stick."
+
+"What! Oh, the gay Lothario! He has been casting his eye about and
+has lost his leathery heart to some less well-favored wench than
+yourself."
+
+Mehetabel moved further from him on the tree-bole.
+
+He began picking at the great lichen that grew out of the decaying
+tree, and laughed.
+
+"Have I hit it? Jealous, eh? Jealousy is at the bottom of it all.
+By Jove, the Broom-Squire isn't worth expending a jealous thought
+on. He's a poor sordid creature. Not worthy of you. So jealous, my
+little woman, eh?"
+
+Mehetabel turned and looked steadily at him.
+
+"You do not understand me," she said. "No Jonas has not sunk so
+low as that."
+
+"He would have been a fool to have cast aside a jewel for the sake
+of quartz crystal," laughed Markham. "But, come. A lawyer is a
+confessor. Tell me everything. Make no reservations. Open your
+heart to me, and see if the law, or myself--between us we cannot
+assist you."
+
+Mehetabel hesitated. The manner in which the man offered his
+services was offensive, and yet in her innocent mind she thought
+that perhaps the fault lay in herself in not understanding and
+receiving his address in the way in which it was intended. Besides,
+in what other manner could she obtain relief? Every other means was
+taken from her.
+
+Slowly, reluctantly, she told him much that she had not told to any
+one else--only not that Jonas had endeavored to kill the child.
+That she would not relate.
+
+When she had finished her tale, he said, "What you have told me is
+a very sad story, and makes my heart ache for you. You can rely on
+me, I will be your friend and protector. We have had a case on
+lately, of a woman who was equally unhappy in her married life; her
+name was Jane Summers. You may have seen it in the papers."
+
+"I'll never see the papers. How did Jane Summers manage?"
+
+"She had a crabbed, ill-conditioned husband, and she was a fine,
+handsome, lusty woman. He fell ill, and she did not afford him all
+that care and attention which was requisite in his condition. She
+went out amusing herself, and left him at home with no one to see
+to his necessities. The consequence was that he died, and she was
+tried for it, but the case against her broke down. It could not be
+proved that had she been devoted to him in his sickness he would
+have recovered. The law takes cognizance of commission of a crime,
+and not of neglect of duty."
+
+Mehetabel opened her eyes. "If Jonas were ill I would attend him
+day and night," she said. "But he is not ill--never was, till the
+shot entered his arm, and then I was with him all day and all
+night."
+
+"How did he receive your ministry?"
+
+"He was very irritable. I suppose the pain made him so."
+
+"You got no thanks for your trouble?"
+
+"None at all. I thought he would have been kinder when he recovered."
+
+"Then," said the young man, laughing; "the man is not to be cured.
+You must leave him."
+
+"I have done so."
+
+"And you are seeking a home and a protector?"
+
+"I want to earn my living somewhere."
+
+"A pretty young thing like you," said the stranger, "cannot fail
+to make her way. Come! I have offered you my aid," he put his arm
+round her and attempted to snatch a kiss.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Mehetabel, starting to her feet. "This is the
+friend and protector you would be! I trusted you with my troubles,
+and you have taken advantage of my trust. Let me alone! Wherever
+I turn there hell hath opened her mouth! A moment ago I thought of
+ending all my troubles in this pond--that a thousand times before
+trusting you further."
+
+With beating heart--beating with anger--proudly raising her weary
+head, she walked away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+WANDERERS.
+
+
+It occurred to Mehetabel that the rector of Milford had been over
+at Thursley several times to do duty when the vicar of Witley was
+ill, and she thought that perhaps she might obtain advice from him.
+
+Accordingly she turned in the direction of that village as soon as
+she had reached the road. She walked wearily along till she arrived
+in this, the adjoining parish, separated from Thursley by a tract
+of healthy common. At her request, she was shown into the library,
+and she told the parson of her trouble.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, and read her a lecture on the duties of
+wife to husband; and, taking his Bible, provided her with texts to
+corroborate what he said.
+
+"Please, sir," she said, "I was married when I did not wish it,
+and when I did not know what I could do, and what was impossible.
+As the Church married me, can it not undo the marriage, and set me
+free again?"
+
+"Certainly not. What has been joined together cannot be put
+asunder. It is not impossible to obtain a separation, legally, but
+you will have to go before lawyers for that."
+
+Mehetabel flushed. "I will have nothing to do with lawyers," she
+said hastily.
+
+"You would be required to show good cause why you desire a
+separation, and then it would be expensive. Have you money?"
+
+"Not a penny."
+
+"The law in England--everywhere--is only for the rich."
+
+"Then is there nothing you can advise?"
+
+"Only that you should go home again, and bear what you have to
+bear as a cross laid on you."
+
+"I will never go back."
+
+"It is your duty to do so."
+
+"I cannot, and will not."
+
+"Then, Mrs. Kink, I am afraid the blame of this domestic broil
+lies on your shoulders quite as much as on those of your husband.
+Woman is the weaker vessel. Her duty is to endure."
+
+"And a separation--"
+
+"That is legal only, and unless you can show very good cause why
+it should be granted, it may be refused. Has your husband beaten
+you?"
+
+"No, but he has spoken to me--"
+
+"Words break no bones. I don't think words would be considered. I
+can't say; I'm no lawyer. But remember--even if separated by law,
+in the sight of God you would still be one."
+
+Mehetabel left, little cheered.
+
+As she walked slowly back along the high-road, she was caught up
+by Betsy Cheel.
+
+"Halloo!" said this woman; "where have you been?"
+
+Mehetabel told her.
+
+"Want to be separated from Jonas, do you? I'm not surprised. I
+always thought him a bad fellow, but I doubt if he's worse than my
+man, Jamaica."
+
+After a while she said: "We'll walk together. Then we can chat.
+It's dull going over the Common alone. I've been selling eggs in
+Milford. They're won'erful dear now; nine a shillin'; but the hens
+feel the cold, and don't lay this time of the year much. How's
+the child? You didn't ort to be carryin' it about in this weather
+and at this time o' the year."
+
+"I have nowhere that I can leave it, and its only home is against
+my heart, in my arms."
+
+"You've run away?"
+
+"Yes; I shall not go back to Jonas."
+
+"I don't call that sense," said Bessy. "If you run away, run away
+with some one who'll take care of you. That's what I did. My first
+husband--well, I don't know as he was a proper husband. He called
+me names, and took the stick to me when drunk; so I went off with
+Jamaica. That I call reasonable. Ain't you got no one to run away
+with?"
+
+Mehetabel did not answer. She hastened her pace--she did not
+relish association with the woman. "I'd have run away from Jamaica
+scores o' times," continued Mrs. Cheel, "only I ain't so young as
+I once as, and so the opportunities don't come. There's the pity. I
+didn't start and leave him when I was good-looking and fresh. I
+might have done better then. If you think a bad, cross-crabbed man
+will mend as he grows older, you make a mistake. They grow wusser.
+So you're right to leave Jonas. Only you've gone about in the wrong
+way. There's Iver Verstage. I've heard talk about him and you. He
+don't live such a terrible distance off. I hear he's doin' purty
+well for himself at Guildford. Why don't you go to him? He's more
+suitable in age, and he's a nice-lookin' young fellow."
+
+"Mrs. Cheel," said Mehetabel, standing still, "will you go forward
+a little faster? I cannot walk with you. I do not ask you for any
+advice. I do not want to hear what you have to say. I have been to
+the parson. It seems to me that I can get no help from heaven, but
+that hell is holding out hands on all sides, offering assistance.
+Go on your way. I shall sit here for half an hour. I am too weary
+to walk at your pace."
+
+"As you will," said Bessy Cheel. "I spoke out of good will,
+and told what would be the best for you. If you won't take my
+opinion--that's no odds to me, and it may turn out wuss for you."
+
+Mehetabel drew aside, to a nodule of ironstone rock that capped the
+first elevation of the Common, the first stage of the terraces
+that rise to Hind Head.
+
+Here she remained till all chance of association with Mrs. Cheel
+was over. Then she went on to Thursley village, to find the Widow
+Chivers in great excitement. Jonas Kink had been in the village
+inquiring for his wife and child; and had learned that both had
+been given shelter by the dame.
+
+He had come to the school, and had demanded his wife and his little
+son. Betty had taken charge of the infant and laid it to sleep in
+her own bed and happily at this time it was asleep. When she told
+Bideabout that Mehetabel had left the house in quest of work, he
+had happily concluded that she had carried the child with her, and
+had asked no further questions; but he had been violent and
+menacing. He had threatened to fetch the constable and recover his
+child, even if he let the mother go where she liked.
+
+Mehetabel was greatly alarmed.
+
+"I cannot stay here," she said, "in no case will I give up the babe.
+When Iver Verstage baptized me it was lest I should become a
+wanderer. I suppose the christening was a poor one--for my
+wandering is begun, and it is not I only who am condemned to
+wander, but my little child also."
+
+With a heavy heart she left the dame's school. Had she been alone
+she would have run to Godalming or Hazelmere, and sought a situation
+as a domestic servant, but that was not possible to her now,
+cumbered with the child.
+
+Watching her opportunity, that none of the villagers might observe
+her leaving the school and note the direction she took, she ran out
+upon the heath, and turned away from the high-road.
+
+On all sides, as already intimated at the opening of this tale, the
+sandy commons near Thursley are furrowed as though a giant plough
+had been drawn along them, but at so remote a period that since the
+soil was turned the heather had been able to cast its deep brown
+mantle of velvet pile over every irregularity, and to veil the scars
+made in the surface.
+
+These gullies or furrows vary in depth from ten to forty feet, and
+run to various lengths. They were the subaerial excavations and
+open adits made by miners in quest of iron ore. They are probably
+of all dates from prehistoric antiquity to the reign of the Tudors,
+after which the iron smelting of the weald came to an end. The
+magnificent oaks of the forest of Anderida that stretched from
+Winchelsea, in Kent, a hundred and twenty miles west, with a breadth
+of thirty miles between the northern and southern chalk downs--these
+oaks had been hewn down and used as fuel, in the fabrication of
+military armor and weapons, and just as the wood was exhausted,
+coal was discovered in the north, and the entire industry of iron
+in the weald came to an end.
+
+Mehetabel had often run up these gullies when a child, playing on
+the commons with Iver, or with other scholars of Dame Chivers
+school.
+
+She remembered now that in one of these she and Iver had discovered
+a cave, scooped out in the sandrock, possibly the beginning of an
+adit, probably a place for storing smuggled goods. On a very small
+scale it resembled the extraordinary labyrinth of subterranean
+passages at Puttenham, that may be explored at the present day.
+During the preceding century and the beginning of that in which we
+live, an extensive business in smuggled spirits, tea, and tobacco
+was carried on from the coast to the Thames; and there were certain
+store places, well-known to the smugglers in the line of trade. In
+Thursley parish is a farm that is built over vast vaults, carefully
+constructed, with the entrance of them artfully disguised. The
+Puttenham labyrinth has its openings in a dense coppice; and it had
+this advantage, that with a few strokes of the pick a passage could
+be blocked with sand from the roof.
+
+The cave that Mehetabel had discovered, and in which she had spent
+many a summer hour, opened out of the side of one of the most
+profound of the trenches cut in the surface after ore. The entrance
+was beneath a projecting slab of ironstone, and was concealed by
+bushes of furze and bramble. It did not penetrate beyond thirty
+feet into the sand rock, or if it had done so formerly, it was
+choked when known to Mehetabel, with the falling in of the roof.
+These sandstone caves are very dry, and the temperature within
+agreeable.
+
+Here Mehetabel resolved to bide for a while, till she had found
+some place of greater security for herself and the child.
+
+She did not leave Mrs. Chivers without having arranged with her for
+the conveyance of food to a place agreed on between them.
+
+With the shawl so kindly given her by the gardener, Mehetabel
+could exclude all wintry air from her habitation, and abundance of
+fuel was at hand in the gully, so that she could make and maintain
+a fire that would be unnoticed, because invisible except to such as
+happened to enter the ravine.
+
+Mehetabel left the village and emerged on the path bearing that
+precious but woeful burden, her little babe, in her arms folded
+about it. Then, all at once, before her she saw that same young
+lawyer who had insulted her at the Hammer Pond. He recognized her
+at once, as she did him. She drew back and her heart beat furiously.
+
+"What, Queen of the heath?" said he, "still about with your baby?"
+
+She would not answer him. She stepped back.
+
+"Do not be afraid; I wish you well--you and your little one. Come,
+for the sake of that mite, accept my offer. What will you say to
+yourself--how excuse yourself if it die through exposure, and
+because of your silly scruples?"
+
+She would not listen to him. She darted past, and fled over the
+down.
+
+She roamed about, lost, distracted. In her confusion she missed
+the way to the cave, and the darkness was gathering. The moaning
+little morsel of her flesh could not be comforted. She rocked it
+violently, then gently. In neither way could she give it relief.
+She knew not which direction she had taken, on what part of the
+heath she was straying.
+
+And now rain began to fall, and Mehetabel had to protect her child
+from being drenched. For herself she had no thought. The rain came
+down first in a slight sprinkle, and then in large drops, and a cold
+wind swashed the drops into her face, blinding her.
+
+All at once, in the uncertain light, she saw some dark gap open
+before her as a grave. She would have fallen headlong into it had
+she not arrested her foot in time. Then, with a gasp of relief she
+recognized where she was.
+
+She stood at the edge of the old mining ravine. This trench, cut in
+the sandy down, had looked like a little bit of Paradise to the
+child-eyes of the pupils of Betty Chivers in summer, when the air
+was honey-sweet with the fragrance of the flowering furze, and
+musical with the humming of bees; and the earth was clotted with
+spilt raspberry cream--the many-tinged blossom of the heather--alas!
+it was now sad, colorless, dripping, cold, and repellent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+THE CAVE.
+
+
+Mehetabel made her way down the steep side of the gully, and to the
+cave, burdened with the babe she carried in her arms. She bore a
+sack over her back that contained some dry turves, shavings, and a
+few potatoes, given her by the school-dame. The place of refuge had
+obviously been frequented by children long after the time when
+Mehetabel and Iver had retired to it on hot summer days. The sides
+of the entrance had been built up with stones, with moss driven
+into their interstices. Within, the floor was littered with dry
+fern, and in one place was a rude hearth, where fires had been
+kindled; this was immediately under a vertical opening that served
+as chimney, and prevented the smoke of a fire from filling the cave.
+
+The young mother laid her child on the shawl she spread over the
+bracken, and proceeded to kindle a fire with a tinder-box lent her
+by Mrs. Chivers. It amused the babe to watch the sparks as they
+flew about, and when the pile of turves and sticks and heather was
+in combustion, to listen to the crackle, and watch the play and
+leap of the flames.
+
+As the fire burnt up, and the blue smoke stole through the natural
+chimney, the whole cave glowed orange.
+
+The air was not cold within, and in the radiation from the fire,
+the place promised to be warm and comfortable.
+
+The child crowed and stretched its feet out to the blaze.
+
+She looked attentively at the babe.
+
+What did that wicked young lawyer mean by saying that it would die
+through exposure? It had cried and moaned. All children cry and
+moan. They have no other means of making their wants known. Wet the
+little creature was not; she had taken every precaution against
+that, but her own garments steamed in the heat of the fire she had
+kindled, and leaving the babe to watch the dancing flames, she
+dried her wet gown and stockings in the glow.
+
+Then by the reflection Mehetabel could see on the nether surface of
+the sandstone slab at the entrance the initials of herself and Iver
+that had been cut by the latter many years ago, with a true-lover's
+knot uniting them. And there on that knot, lost in dream, was a
+peacock butterfly that had retired to hibernate. The light from the
+fire glowed in its purple and gold eyes, and the warm ascending air
+fluttered the wings, but did not restore animation to the drowsy
+insect. In corners were snails at the limit of their glazed tracks,
+also in retreat before winter. They had sealed themselves up in
+their houses against cold.
+
+Mehetabel was constrained to pass in and out of her habitation
+repeatedly so as to accumulate fuel that might serve through the
+night. Happily, on her way she had noticed a little shelter hut,
+probably constructed by a village sportsman, under which he might
+conceal himself with his gun and await the game. This was made of
+dry heather, and branches of fir and chestnut. She had no scruple
+in pulling this to pieces, and conveying as much as she could carry
+at a time to her cave.
+
+The child, amused by the fire, did not object to her temporary
+desertion, and it was too feeble and young to crawl near to the
+flames.
+
+After several journeys to and fro Mehetabel had contrived to form a
+goodly pile of dry fuel at the back of her habitation, and now that
+a sufficiency of ash had been formed proceeded to embed in it the
+potatoes that Betty Chivers had given her.
+
+How often had she and Iver, as children, talked of being savages
+and living in wigwams and caves, and now she was driven to a life
+of savagery in the midst of civilization. It would not, however,
+be for long. She would search the neighborhood round for work, and
+when she had got it move away from this den in the Common.
+
+A stoat ran in, raised its head, looked at the fire, then at her,
+with glistening eyes devoid of fear, but at a movement of the
+child darted away and disappeared.
+
+A Sabbath sense of repose came over Mehetabel. The babe was content
+and crooning itself to sleep. Her nerves in tension all day were
+now relaxed; her wearied body rested. She had no inquisitive
+companion to worry her with questions, none overkind to try her
+with injudicious attentions. She could sit on the fragrant fern
+leaves, extend her feet, lean her head against the sandstone, and
+watch the firelight play over the face of her child.
+
+A slight sound attracted her attention. It was caused by a bramble
+leaf caught in a cobweb, drawn in by the draught produced by the
+fire, and it tapped at and scratched the covering stone. Mehetabel,
+roused from her languor, saw what occasioned the sound, and lost
+all concern about it. There were particles in the sand that
+sparkled. It afforded her a childish pleasure to see the twinkles
+on every side in the rise and fall of the flames. It was no exertion
+to cast on another branch of heather, or even a bough of pine. It
+was real pleasure to listen to the crackle and to see the sparks
+shoot like rockets from the burning wood. The cave was a fairy
+palace. The warmth was grateful. The potatoes were hissing in the
+embers. Then Mehetabel dreamily noticed a black shadow stealing
+along the lower surface of the roof stone. At first she saw it
+without interest, without inquiry in her mind, but little by little
+her interest came, and her attention centred itself on the dark
+object.
+
+It was a spider, a hairy insect with a monstrous egglike belly,
+and it was creeping slowly and with caution towards the hibernating
+butterfly. Perhaps its limbs were stiff with inaction, its blood
+congealed; perhaps it dreaded lest by precipitation it might alarm
+its prey and lose it.
+
+Mehetabel put out her hand, picked up a piece of furze, and cast
+it at the spider, which fell.
+
+Then she was uneasy lest it would crawl along the ground and come
+to her baby, and sting it. She inherited the common superstition
+that spiders are poisonous insects.
+
+She must look for it.
+
+Only now, as she tried to raise herself, did she discover how stiff
+her joints had become. She rose to her knees, and raked out some of
+the potatoes from the ashes, and swept the floor where the spider
+had dropped with a brush of Scottish pine twigs.
+
+Then, all at once, she remained motionless. She heard steps and
+voices outside, the latter in low converse. Next a face looked in,
+and an exclamation followed, "Jamaica! There, sure enough, she be!"
+
+The voice, the face--there was no mistaking either. They belonged
+to Sally Rocliffe.
+
+The power to cry out failed in Mehetabel. She hastily thrust her
+child behind her, into the depths of the cave, and interposed
+herself between it and the glittering eyes of the woman.
+
+"Come on, Jamaica, we'll see how she has made herself comfortable,"
+said Mrs. Rocliffe, and she entered, followed by Giles Cheel. Both
+had to stoop at the opening, but when they were a few feet within,
+could stand upright.
+
+"Well, now, I call this coorious," said Sarah; "don't you, Jamaica?
+Here's all the Punch-Bowl turned out. Some runnin' one way, some
+another, all about Matabel. Some sez she's off her head; some
+thinks she has drownded herself and the child. And there's Jonas
+stormin', and in a purty takein'. There is my Thomas--gone with
+him--and Jamaica and I come this way over the Common. But I had a
+fancy you might be at the bottom o' one of them Hammer Ponds. I
+was told you'd been to the silk mill."
+
+"What be you run away for? What be you a hidin' for--just like a
+wild beast?" asked Giles Cheel.
+
+Mehetabel could not answer. How could she declare her reason? That
+the life of the child was menaced by its own father.
+
+"Now come back with us," said Jamaica, in a persuasive tone.
+
+"I will not. I never will return," exclaimed Mehetabel with energy.
+She was kneeling, with her hands extended to screen her child from
+the eye of Sally Rocliffe.
+
+"I told you so, did I not?" asked the woman.
+
+"She sed as much to me yesterday mornin when I saw her run away."
+
+"I will not go back. I will never go back," repeated Mehetabel
+
+"Where is the child?" asked Sally.
+
+"It is behind me."
+
+"How is it?"
+
+"It is well now, now we are out of the Punch-Bowl, where all hate
+it and wish it dead."
+
+"Now, look here, Matabel," said Cheel, "you be reasonable, and come
+peaceably."
+
+"I will not go back; I never will!" she answered with increased
+vehemence.
+
+"That's all very fine sayin'," pursued Giles Cheel. "But go back
+you must when Jonas fetches you."
+
+"I will not go back! Never! never!"
+
+"He'll make you."
+
+"Not if I will not go."
+
+"Aye, but he can. If you won't go when he axes, he can get the
+constable to force you to go home. The law of the land can help
+him thereto."
+
+"I will not go back! Never!"
+
+"Where he is just now, I can't say," pursued Cheel. "But I have a
+notion he's prowlin' about the moor, thinkin' you may have gone to
+Thor's Stone. Come he will, and he'll take you and the baby, and
+you may squeal and scratch, go back with him you must and will. So
+I say go peaceable."
+
+"I will not go back!" cried Mehetabel. She picked up a lump of
+ironstone and said, passionately, "I will defend myself. I am as
+strong as he. I am stronger, for I will fight for my child. I will
+kill him rather than let him take my baby from me."
+
+"Hear her!" exclaimed Sally Rocliffe. "She threatens she'll do
+for Jonas. Every one knows she tried that on once afore, wi' his
+gun."
+
+"Yes," said Mehetabel, fiercely, "I will even do that. Rather than
+go back and have my baby in that hated place again, I will fight
+and kill him. Let him come here and try."
+
+She set her teeth, her eyes glared, her breath came snorting
+through her nostrils.
+
+"I say, Gilly, I'll go back. It ain't safe here. She's possessed
+with seven devils."
+
+"I am not possessed, save with mother's love. I will never, never
+go back and take my babe to the Punch-Bowl. Never, never, allow
+you, Sally, to look at its innocent face again, nor Jonas to touch
+it. There is no one cares for it, no one loves it, no one who does
+not wish its death, but me, and I will fight, and never--"
+
+Her strength gave way, her hands sank in the sand, and her hair
+fell over her face, as she broke into a storm of sobs and tears.
+
+"I say, Jamaica, come out," whispered Mrs. Rocliffe. "We'll talk
+over wot's to be done."
+
+Giles Cheel and Sally Rocliffe crept out of the cave backwards.
+They did so, facing Mehetabel, with mistrust. Each believed that
+she was mad.
+
+When the two were outside, then Jonas's sister said to her companion
+"I'll tell you what, Jamaica, I won't have nuthin' more to do with
+this. There's somethin' queer; and whether Jonas has been doin'
+what he ort not, or whether Matabel be gone rampagin' mad, that's
+not for me to say. Let Jonas manage his own affairs, and don't let
+us meddle no more."
+
+"I am sure it's 'as nuthin' to me," said Cheel. "But this is a fine
+thing. At the christenin' of that there baby he had words to say
+about me and my Betsy, as if we was a disgrace to the Punch-Bowl,
+becos we didn't always agree. But my Betsy and me never came to
+such a pass as this. I'm willin'. Let's go back and have our
+suppers, and let her be where she is."
+
+"You need not tell Jonas that we have found her."
+
+"No; not if you wishes."
+
+"Let the matter alone altogether; I reckon she's in a dangerous
+mood, and so is Jonas. Something may come of it, and I'd as lief
+be out of it altogether."
+
+"That's my doctrine, too," said Giles.
+
+Then he put his head in at the cave door, and said "Good-night,
+missus!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+AT COLPUS'S.
+
+
+On the morrow Mehetabel, carrying her babe, revisited the
+schoolmistress, at an early hour, before the children assembled.
+
+Betty Chivers received her with joy.
+
+"Matabel," she said, "I've been thinking about you. There's James
+Colpus and his daughter are in want of a woman. That girl, Julia
+Caesar, as has been with them, got at the barrels of ale, and has
+been givin' drink all round to the men, just when they liked. She'd
+got a key to the cellar unbeknown to Master Colpus; so she has had
+to walk off. Polly Colpus, she knows you well enough, and what a
+managing girl you are. They couldn't do better than take you--that
+is, if they can arrange with Bideabout, and don't object to the
+baby."
+
+Accordingly, somewhat later, Mehetabel departed for the farm of
+James Colpus, that adjoined the land occupied by old Simon
+Verstage.
+
+James Colpus was preparing to go out fox-hunting when Mehetabel
+arrived. He wore a tight, dark-colored suit, that made his red
+face look the redder, and his foxy hair the foxier. His daughter
+had a face like a full moon, flat and eminently livid;' fair,
+almost white eyebrows, and an unmistakable moustache. She was
+extraordinarily plain, but good-natured. She was pouring out
+currant brandy for her father when Mehetabel arrived.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed Colpus. "Here is the runaway wife. Tally-ho!
+Tally-ho! We've got her. All the parish has been out after you,
+and you run to earth here, do you?"
+
+"If you please," said Mehetabel, "I have come to offer my services
+in the place of Julia Caesar, who has been sent away. You know I
+can work. You know I won't let nobody have the tap o' the beer--and
+as for wages, I'll take what you are willing to give."
+
+"That's all very fine, Miss Runaway, but what will Bideabout say
+to that?"
+
+"I am not going back to Bideabout," answered Mehetabel. "If you
+cannot take me, I shall go to every farm and offer myself, and if
+none in Thursley or Witley will have me, I'll beg my bread from
+door to door, till I do find a house where I may honestly earn it.
+Go back to the Punch-Bowl I will not."
+
+"I'd like to take you," said Colpus. "Glad to have you. Never a
+better girl anywhere, of that I am quite certain--only, how about
+the Broom-Squire? I'm constable, and it must not be said that the
+constable is keeping a man's wife away from him."
+
+"You will not keep me from him. Nothing in the world will make me
+go back to him."
+
+"Then--what about the baby? Can you let Bideabout have that?"
+
+Mehetabel flushed almost as red as Colpus and his daughter.
+
+"Never!" she said, firmly.
+
+"But, look here," said the farmer, "if I did agree to take you,
+why, after a day or two, you'd be homesick, and wantin' to be back
+in the arms of Jonas. It's always so with women."
+
+"I shall never go back," persisted Mehetabel.
+
+"So you say. But before the week is out you'll be piping another
+song."
+
+"You may bind me to stay--three months--six--a year,"
+
+"That is all very well to say. Bind me, but how? What bind will
+hold--when the marriage tie does not?"
+
+"The marriage tie would have held me till death," answered
+Mehetabel gravely, "if Jonas had not done that which makes it
+impossible for me to remain. It is not for my sake that I am away.
+Had I been alone I would have borne all till I died. But I have
+other duties now. I am a mother. Here is my darling, a charge from
+God. I owe it to God to do what I am here for--to find another
+home, a place away from the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I cannot explain."
+
+"Is the Punch-Bowl unhealthy for the child?"
+
+"Yes, it would die there."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"I know it. My heart says so."
+
+"Now look here," said Colpus, getting red as a poppy, "there's a
+lot of talk in the place about you. Some say that Bideabout is in
+the wrong, some say that the wrong lies with you. It is reported
+that he beat you, and there are folks that tell as how you gave him
+occasion. You must let me know the right of it all, or I can't take
+you."
+
+"Then I must go," said Mehetabel, "I cannot tell you all. You may
+think ill of me if you choose, I cannot help that."
+
+Colpus rubbed his foxy whiskers and head.
+
+"You're a won'erful active woman, and do more work than three
+ordinary gals. I'd like to have you in the house. But then--what
+am I to say if Kink comes to claim you?"
+
+"Say you will not give me up."
+
+"But I ain't so sure but what he can force me to surrender you."
+
+"You are the strongest man in Thursley."
+
+"'Tain't that," said Colpus, gratified by the compliment. "'Tis he
+might bring the law against me. I don't know nuthin' about law,
+though I'm constable, but I reckon, if I was to keep a cow of his
+as had strayed and refused to give her up, he could compel me. And
+what's true of a cow is true of a wife. If I could be punished for
+stealin' his goose I might be summonsed all on account of you. Then
+there's the babe--that might be brought in as kidnappin'! I daren't
+risk it."
+
+"But, father," put in Polly. "How would it do for a time, just to
+try."
+
+"There's something in that, Polly.
+
+"And Julia Caesar have left things in a terrible mess. We must have
+all cleared up before another comes in. What if we take Matabel by
+the day to clear up?"
+
+"Look here, Polly," said Colpus, who visibly oscillated in mind
+between his wishes to engage Mehetabel and his fears as to what the
+consequences might be. "It's this," he touched his forehead, and
+made a sign towards the applicant. "Folk do say it."
+
+"Matabel," said the good-natured farmer's daughter, "you go along
+to Thursley, and father and I will talk it over. If we think we
+can take you--where shall we send to find you?"
+
+"To Betty Chivers' house."
+
+"Well, in half an hour I trust we shall have decided. Now go."
+
+As Mehetabel withdrew, Polly said, "It's all gammon, father, about
+her not being right in her head. Her eye is as steady as the
+evenin' star. And it's all lies about there bein' any fault in her.
+Matabel is as honest and true as sunlight."
+
+Then old Colpus shouted after Mehetabel, who was departing by the
+lane. "Don't go that way, over the field is the path--by the stile.
+There's a lot o' water in the lane."
+
+The young mother turned, thanked him with an inclination of the
+head, and pressing her cheek to the child she bore, she took the
+path that crossed a meadow, and which led to a tuft of holly, near
+which was the stile, into the lane. She walked on, with her cheek
+resting on the child's head, and her eyes on the trodden, cropped
+wintry grass, with a flutter of hope in her bosom; for she was
+almost certain that with the influence of Polly engaged on her
+side, old Colpus would agree to receive her.
+
+She did not walk swiftly. She had no occasion for haste. She hoped
+that the objections of the farmer would give way before she had
+reached the hedge, and that he would recall her.
+
+She had almost arrived t the turf of holly, singing in a low tone
+to the child in her arms, when, a voice made her start and cry out.
+
+She looked up. Jonas was before her.
+
+Unobserved by her he had entered the field. From the lane he had
+seen her, and he had crossed the stile and come upon her.
+
+She stood frozen to the spot. Each muscle became rigid; the blood
+in her arteries tingled as though bees were making their way through
+every vein. Her brows met in a black band across her face. She
+trembled for a moment, and then was firm. A supreme moment, the
+supreme moment in her life was come.
+
+"So I have found you at last," sneered Jonas. Hatred, fury, were
+in him and sent a quiver through the tones of his voice.
+
+"Yes, you have found me," she answered with composure.
+
+"You--do you know what you have done? Made me a derision and a talk
+to all Thursley, a jest in every pot-house."
+
+"I have not done this. It is your doing."
+
+"Is it not enough that I have lost my money, but must I have this
+scandal and outrage in my home?"
+
+She did not answer him. She looked steadily at him, and he dared
+not meet her eyes.
+
+"You must come with me at once," he said.
+
+"I will not go with you."
+
+"I will make you."
+
+"That you cannot."
+
+"You are mad. You must be put under restraint."
+
+"I will go to the madhouse, but not to the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"You shall be forced to return."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I will have you tied. I will swear you are crazed. I will have you
+locked up, and I will beat you till you learn to obey and behave as
+I would have you."
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel, "this is idle talk. Never, never will I go
+back to you."
+
+"Never!"
+
+He approached, his eyes glaring, his white fangs showing, like
+those of a dog about to bite.
+
+Instinctively she put her hand into her pocket and drew forth a
+lump of ironstone, that she had brandished the previous evening
+before Sally Rocliffe and Giles Cheel; and which she carried with
+her as her only weapon of defence.
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel. "You may threaten, but your threats do not
+move me. I can defend myself."
+
+"Oh, with a stone? he scoffed.
+
+"Yes, if need be with a stone. But I have better protection than
+that."
+
+"Indeed--let me hear it."
+
+"If you venture to touch me--venture to threaten any more--then I
+shall appeal for protection."
+
+"To whom--to Iver?"
+
+"Not to Iver," her heart boiled up, and was still again.
+
+"To whom--to Farmer Colpus?"
+
+"To the law."
+
+"The law!" jeered Jonas. "It is the law that will send you back to
+me."
+
+"It is the law which will protect me from you," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"I am fain to learn how."
+
+"How! I have but to go before a magistrate and tell how you tried
+to poison your own child--how, when that failed, you tried to
+smother it. And, Jonas," she added--as she saw his face grow ashen,
+and a foam bubble form on his lips--"and, Jonas," she stepped
+forward, and he backed--his glassy eyes on her face, "and, Jonas,"
+she said, "look here, I have this stone. With the like of this you
+sought to kill me in the moor." She raised it above her head, "you
+would-be murderer of your wife and your child--I am free from you."
+She took another step forward--he reeled back and vanished--disappeared
+instantly from her sight with a scream--instantly and absolutely,
+as when the earth opened its mouth at the word of Moses and swallowed
+up Korah.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+AGAIN: IRONSTONE.
+
+
+Mehetabel heard shouts, exclamations, and saw Thomas Rocliffe and
+his son, Samuel, come up over the stile from the lane, and James
+Colpus running towards her.
+
+What had happened? Whither had Jonas vanished? She drew back and
+passed her hand, still holding the ironstone, over her face.
+
+Then she saw Thomas and Samuel stoop, kneel, and Thomas swing
+himself down and also disappear; thereupon up came the farmer.
+
+"What is it? Has he fallen in--into the kiln?"
+
+That the reader may understand what had occurred, it is necessary
+that a few words of explanation should be given.
+
+At the time when the country was densely wooded with oaks, then the
+farmers were wont annually to draw chalk from the quarries in the
+flank of the Hog's Back, that singular ridge, steep as a Gothic
+roof, running east and west from Guildford, and to cart this to
+their farms. On each of these was a small brick kiln, constructed
+in a sand-bank beside a lane, so that the chalk and fuel might be
+thrown in from above, where the top of the kiln was level with the
+field, and the burnt quicklime drawn out below and shovelled into a
+cart that would convey it by the road to whatever field was thought
+to require such a dressing.
+
+But fuel became scarce, and when the trees had vanished, then sea
+coal was introduced. Thereupon the farmers found it more convenient
+to purchase quicklime at the kiln mouth near the chalk quarry, than
+to cart the chalk and burn it themselves.
+
+The private kilns were accordingly abandoned and allowed to fall to
+ruin. Some were prudently filled in with earth and sand, but this
+was exceptional. The majority were allowed to crumble in slowly;
+and at the present day such abandoned kilns may be found on all
+sides, in various stages of decay.
+
+Into such a kiln, that had not been filled in, Jonas had fallen,
+when he stepped backwards, unconscious of its existence.
+
+Polly Colpus had followed her father, but kept in the rear, alarmed,
+and dreading a ghastly sight. The farmer bent with hands on his
+knees over the hole. Samuel knelt.
+
+"Have you got him?" asked Colpus.
+
+"Lend a hand," called Thomas from below, and with the assistance of
+those above the body of Jonas Kink was lifted on to the bank.
+
+"He's dead," said the farmer.
+
+Then Mehetabel laughed.
+
+The three men and Polly Colpus turned and looked at her with
+estrangement.
+
+They did not understand that there was neither mockery nor frivolity
+in the laugh, that it proceeded involuntarily from the sudden
+relaxation of overstrained nerves. At the moment Mehetabel was
+aware of one thing only, that she had nothing more to fear, that
+her baby was safe from pursuit. It was this thought that dominated
+her and caused the laugh of relief. She had not in the smallest
+degree realized how it was that this relief was obtained.
+
+"Fetch a hurdle," said Colpus, "and, Polly, run in and send a couple
+of men. We must carry him to the Punch-Bowl. I reckon he's pretty
+well done for. I don't see a sign of life in him."
+
+The Broom-Squire was laid on the gass.
+
+Strange is the effect of death on a man's clothes. The moment the
+vital spark has left the body, the garments hang about him as though
+never made to fit him. They take none of the usual folds; they lose
+their gloss--it is as though life had departed out of them as well.
+
+Mehetabel seated herself on a bit of swelling ground and looked on,
+without understanding what she saw; seeing, hearing, as in a dream;
+and after the first spasm of relief, as if what was being done in
+no way concerned her, belonged to another world to her own. It was
+as though she were in the moon and saw what men were doing on the
+earth.
+
+When the Broom-Squire had been lifted upon a hurdle, then Polly
+Colpus thought right to touch Mehetabel, and say in a low tone:
+"You will follow him and go to the Punch-Bowl?"
+
+"I will never, never go there again. I have said so," answered
+Mehetabel.
+
+Then to avoid being pressed further, she stood up and went away,
+bearing her child in her arms.
+
+The men looked after her and shook their heads.
+
+"Bideabout has had a blow on the forehead," said Colpus.
+
+Mehetabel returned to the school, entered without a word, and seated
+herself by the fire.
+
+"Have you succeeded?" asked the widow.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Will Farmer Colpus take you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What have you in your hand?"
+
+Mehetabel opened her fingers and allowed Betty Chivers to remove
+from her hand a lump of ironstone.
+
+"What are you carrying this for, Matabel?"
+
+"I defend baby with it," she answered.
+
+"Well, you do not need it in my house," said the dame, and placed
+the liver-colored lump on the table.
+
+"How hot your hand is," she continued. "Here, let me feel again. It
+is burning. And your forehead is the same. Are you unwell, Matabel?"
+
+"I am cold," she answered dreamily.
+
+"You have been over-worried and worked," said the kind old woman.
+"I will get you a cup of tea."
+
+"He won't follow me any more and try to take my baby away," said
+Mehetabel.
+
+"I am glad of that."
+
+"And I also."
+
+Then she moved her seat, winding and bending on one side.
+
+"What is it, my dear?" asked Betty.
+
+"His shadow. It will follow me and fall over baby."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Mehetabel made no reply, and the widow buried herself in preparation
+for the midday meal, a very humble one of bread and weak tea.
+
+"There's drippin' in the bowl," she said, "you can put some o' that
+on the bread. And now, give me the little chap. You are not afraid
+of trusting him to me?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+The mother at once surrendered the child, and Mrs. Chivers sat by
+the fire with the infant in her lap.
+
+"He's very like you," she said.
+
+"I couldn't love him if he were like him," said Mehetabel.
+
+"You must not say that."
+
+"He is a bad man."
+
+"Leave God to judge him."
+
+"He has judged him," answered the girl, looking vacantly into the
+fire, and then passed her hand over her eyes and pressed her brow.
+
+"Have you a headache, dear?"
+
+"Yes--bad. It is his shadow has got in there--rolled up, and I can't
+shake it out."
+
+"Matabel--you must go to bed. You are not well."
+
+"No--I am not well. But my baby?"
+
+"He is safe with me."
+
+"I am glad of that, you will teach him A B C, and the Creed, and to
+pray to and fear God. But you needn't teach him to find Abelmeholah
+on the map, nor how many gallons of water the Jordan carries into
+the Dead Sea every minute, nor how many generations there are in
+Matthew. That is all no good at all. Nor does it matter where is
+the country of the Gergesenes. I have tried it. The Vicar was a
+good man, was he not, Betty?"
+
+"Yes, very good."
+
+"He would give the coat off his back, and the bread out of his
+mouth to the poor. He gave beef and plum pudding all around at
+Christmas, and lent out blankets in winter. But he never gave
+anything to the soul, did he, Betty? Never made the heart warm. I
+found it so. What I got of good for that was from you."
+
+"My dear," said the old woman, starting up. "I insist on your going
+to bed at once. I see by your eye, by the fire in your cheek, that
+you are ill."
+
+"I will go to bed; I do not want anything to eat, only to lay my
+head down, and then the shadow will run out at my ear--only I fear
+it may stain the pillow. When I'm rich I will buy you another. Baby
+is rich; he has got a hundred and fifty pounds. What is his is
+mine, and what is mine is his. He will not grudge you a new
+pillow-case."
+
+Mehetabel, usually reserved and silent, had become loquacious and
+rambling in her talk. It was but too obvious, that she was in a
+fever, and wandering. Mrs. Chivers insisted on her taking some tea,
+and then she helped her upstairs to the little bedroom, and did not
+leave her till she was asleep. The school children, who came in
+after their dinner hour, were dismissed, so that Mrs. Chivers had
+the afternoon to devote to the care of the child and of the sick
+mother, who was in high fever.
+
+She was in the bedroom when she heard a knock at the door, and
+then a heavy foot below. She descended the rickety stairs as gently
+as possible, and found Farmer Colpus in the schoolroom.
+
+"How do you do, Mrs. Chivers? Can you tell me, is Matabel Kink
+here?"
+
+"Yes--if you do not mind, Mr. Colpus, to speak a little lower. She
+is in bed and asleep."
+
+"Asleep?"
+
+"She came in at noon, rather excited and queer, and her hand
+burnin' like a hot chestnut, so I gave her a dish o' tea and sent
+her upstairs. I thought it might be fever--and her eyes were that
+strange and unsteady--"
+
+"It is rather odd," said the constable, "but my daughter observed
+how calm and clear her eye was--only an hour before."
+
+"Maybe," said Mrs. Chivers, "and yet she was that won'erful
+wanderin' in her speech--"
+
+"You don't think she was shamming?"
+
+"Shammin'! Lord, sir--that Matabel never did, and I've knowed her
+since she was two-year old. At three and a half she comed to my
+school."
+
+"By the way, what is that stone on your table?" asked Colpus.
+
+"That, sir? Matabel had it in her hand when she comed in. I took
+it away, and then I felt how burnin' she was, like a fire."
+
+"Oh! she was still holding that stone. Did she say anything about
+it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, she said that she used it to defend herself and baby."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"She didn't say--but you know, sir, there has been a bit of tiff
+between her and the Broom-Squire, and she won't hear of goin back
+to the Punch-Bowl, and she has a fancy he wants to take the baby
+away from her. That's ridic'lous, of course. But there is no getting
+the idea out of her head."
+
+"I must see her."
+
+"You can't speak to her, sir. She is asleep still." Colpus
+considered.
+
+"I'll ask you to allow me to take this stone away, Betty. And I
+must immediately send for the doctor. He has been sent for to the
+Punch-Bowl, and I'll stop him on the way back to Godalming. I must
+be assured that Matabel is in a fit state to be removed."
+
+"Removed, whither?"
+
+"To the lock-up."
+
+"The lock-up, sir?"
+
+"To the lock-up. Do you know, Mrs. Chivers, that Jonas Kink is
+dead, and that very strong suspicions attach to Matabel, that she
+killed him?"
+
+"Matabel killed him!"
+
+"Yes, with that very stone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+IN HOPE.
+
+
+When the surgeon, on his return from the Punch-Bowl was called in
+to see Mehetabel, he at once certified that she was not in a
+condition to be removed, and that she would require every possible
+attention for several days.
+
+Accordingly, James Colpus allowed her to remain at the Dame's School,
+but cautioned Betty Chivers that he should hold her responsible for
+the appearance of Mehetabel when required.
+
+Jonas Kink was not dead, as Colpus thought when lifted out of the
+kiln into which he had been precipitated backwards, but he had
+received several blows on the head which had broken in the skull
+and stunned him. Had there been a surgeon at hand to relieve the
+pressure on the brain, he might perhaps have recovered, but there
+was none nearer than Godalming; the surgeon was out when the
+messenger arrived, and did not return till late, then he was
+obliged to get a meal, and hire a horse, as his own was tired, and
+by the time he arrived at the Punch-Bowl Jonas had ceased to
+breathe, and all he could do was to certify his death and the
+cause thereof.
+
+Mehetabel's nature was vigorous and elastic with youth. She
+recovered rapidly, more so, indeed than Mrs. Chivers would allow
+to James Colpus, as she was alarmed at the prospect of having to
+break to her that a warrant was issued against her on the charge
+of murder.
+
+When she did inform her, Mehetabel could not believe what she was
+told.
+
+"That is purely," she said. "I kill Jonas! If he had touched me and
+tried to take baby away I might have done it. I would have fought
+him like a tiger, as I did before."
+
+"When did you fight him?"
+
+"In the Moor, by Thor's Stone, over the gun--there when the shot
+went off into his arm."
+
+"I never knew much of that, though there was at the time some talk."
+
+"Yes. I need say nothing of that now. But as to hurting Jonas, I
+never hurted nobody in my life save myself, and that was when I
+married him. I don't believe I could kill a fly--and then only if
+it were teasin' baby."
+
+"There is Joe Filmer downstairs, has somethin' to say. Can he come
+up?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mehetabel. "He was always kind to me."
+
+The ostler of the Ship stumbled up the stairs and saluted the sick
+girl with cordiality and respect.
+
+"Very sorry about this little affair. 'Tis a pity, I sez, that such
+a fuss be made over trifles. There's been the crownin' of the body,
+and now there's to be the hearin' of you afore the magistrates, and
+then they say you'll have to go to the 'sizez, and there'll come
+the hangin'. 'Tis terrible lot o' fuss all about Jonas as wasn't
+worth it. No one'll miss him and if you did kill him, well, there
+was cause, and I don't think the wuss o' you for it."
+
+"Thank you, Joe, but I did not kill him."
+
+"Well--you know--it's right for you to say so, 'cos you'll have to
+plead not guilty. Polly, at our place never allows she's broke
+nothin', but the chinay and the pipkins have got a terrible way of
+committin' felo de se since she came to the Ship. She always sez
+she didn't do it--and right enough. No one in this free country
+is obliged to incriminate hisself. That's one of our glorious
+institootions."
+
+"I really am guiltless," urged Mehetabel.
+
+"Quite right you should say so. Pleased to hear it. But I don't
+know what the magistrates will say. Most folks here sez you did,
+and all the Punch-Bowl will swear it. They sez you tried to kill
+him wi' his own gun, but didn't succeed as you wished, so now you
+knocked him on the head effectual like, and tippled his dead body
+down into the kiln. He was an aggravatin' chap, was Bideabout, and
+deserved it. But that is not what I come here to say."
+
+"And that was--"
+
+"Well, now, I mustn't say it too loud. I just slipped in when
+nobody was about, as I don't want it to be known as I am here. The
+master and I settled it between us."
+
+"Settled what, Joe?"
+
+"You see he always had a wonderful liking for you, and so had I.
+He was agin you marryin' the Broom-Squire, but the missus would
+have it so. Now he's goyne to send me with the trap to Portsmouth.
+He's had orders for it from a gent as be comin' wild fowl shootin'
+in the Moor. So my notion is I'll drive by here in the dark, and
+you'll be ready, and come along wi' me, takin' the baby with you,
+and I'll whip you off to Portsmouth, and nobody a penny the wiser.
+I've got a married sister there--got a bit o' a shop, and I'll take
+you to her, and if you don't mind a bit o' nonsense, I'll say you're
+my wife and that's my baby. Then you can stay there till all is
+quiet. I've a notion as Master Colpus be comin' to arrest you
+to-morrow, and that would be comical games. If you will come along
+wi' me, and let me pass you off as I sed, then you can lie hid till
+the wind has changed. It's a beautiful plan. I talked it over with
+the master, and he's agreeable; and as to money--well, he put ten
+pound into my hand for you, and there's ten pound of my wages I've
+saved and hid in the thatchin' of the cow-stall, and have no use
+for; that's twenty pound, and will keep you and the baby goin' for
+a while, and when that's done I daresay there'll be more to be had."
+
+"I thank you, Joe," began Mehetabel, the tears rising in her eyes.
+
+He cut her short. "The master don't want Polly to know nothin' of
+it. Polly's been able to get the mastery in the house. She's got
+the keys, and she's a'most got the old chap under lock. But it's
+my experience as fellows when they get old get won'erful artful,
+and master may be under her thumb in most things, but not all. And
+he don't fancy the notion of your bein' hanged. So he gave me that
+ten pound, and when I sed I'd drive you away afore the constable
+had you--why, he just about jumped out o' his breeches wi' joy.
+Only the first thing he said then was--'Not a word to Polly.'"
+
+"Indeed, Joe, you are good, but I cannot go."
+
+"You must go either to Portsmouth or to Gorlmyn. You may be a free
+woman, but in hidin', or go to prison. There's the choice before
+you. And if you b'ain't a fool, I know what you will take."
+
+"I do not think it right to run away."
+
+"Of course if you killed him deliberate, then you may go cheerful
+like and be hanged for it. But wot I sez and most sez, but they in
+the Punch-Bowl, is that it worn't deliberate. It were done under
+aggravatin' sarcumstances. The squatters in the Bowl, they have
+another tale. They say you tried to shoot him, and then to poison
+him, and he lived in fear of his life of you, and then you knocked
+him head over heels into the kiln, and served him right is my
+doctrine, and I respect you for it. But then--wot our people in
+Thursley sez is that it'll give the place a bad name if you're hung
+on Hind Head. They've had three hangin' there already, along of wot
+they did to your father. And to have another might damage the
+character of the place. I don't fancy myself that farmer Colpus is
+mighty keen on havin' you hanged."
+
+"I shall not be hanged when I am guiltless," said Mehetabel.
+
+"My dear," answered the hostler, "it all depends not on what you
+are but on what the judge and jury think, and that depends on the
+lawyers what they say in their harangues. There's chances in all
+these things, and the chance may be as you does get found guilty
+and be sentenced to the gallows. It might cause an unpleasantness
+here, and that you would wish to avoid I don't say as even Sally
+Rocliffe and Thomas would like it, for you're related to them
+somehow, and I'm quite sure as Thursley villagers won't like it,
+cos we've all respected you and have held Jonas cheap. And why we
+should have you hanged becos he's dead--that's unanswerable I say.
+So I'll be round after dark and drive you to Portsmouth."
+
+"No, indeed, I cannot go."
+
+"You can think it over. What about the little chap, the baby? If
+they hang you, that'll be wuss for him than it was for you. For you
+it were bad enough, because you had three men hanged all along of
+your father, but for he it'll be far more serious when he goes
+about the world as the chap as had his mother hanged."
+
+"Joe, you insist on imagining the worst. It cannot, it will not, be
+that I shall be condemned when guiltless."
+
+"If I was you I'd make sure I wasn't ketched," urged the hostler.
+"You may be quite certain that the master will do what he can for
+you; but I must say this, he is that under Polly that you can't
+depend on him. There was old Clutch on the day when Bideabout was
+killed. The doctor came from Gorlmyn on a hired hoss, and it was
+the gray mare from the inn there. Well, old Clutch seems to have
+found it out, and with his nose he lifted the latch of the
+stable-door and got out, and trotted away after the doctor or the
+old mare all the road to Gorlmyn; and he's there now in a field
+with the mare, as affable as can be with her. It's the way of old
+horses--and what, then, can you expect of old men? Polly can lead
+the master where she pleases."
+
+"Joe," said Mehetabel, "I cannot accept your kind offer. Do not
+think me ungrateful. I am touched to the heart. But I will not
+attempt to run away; that would at once be taken as a token that I
+was guilty and was afraid of the consequences. I will not do
+anything to give occasion for such a thought. I am not guilty,
+and will act as an innocent person would."
+
+"You may please yourself," answered Filmer; "but if you don't go, I
+shall think you what I never thought you before--a fool."
+
+"I cannot help it; I must do what is right," said Mehetabel. "But I
+shall never forget your kindness, Joe, at a time when there are
+very few who are friends to me."
+
+The period of Mehetabel's illness had been a trying one for the
+infant, and its health, never strong, had suffered. Happily, the
+little children who came to the Dame's school were ready and
+suitable nurses for it. A child can amuse and distract a babe from
+its woes in an exceptional manner, and all the little pupils were
+eager to escape A B C by acting as nurses.
+
+When the mother was better, the babe also recovered; but it was, at
+best, a puny, frail creature.
+
+Mehetabel was aware how feeble a life was that which depended on
+her, but would not admit it to herself. She could not endure to
+have the delicacy of the child animadverted upon. She found excuses
+for its tears, explanations of its diminutive size, a reason for
+every doubtful sign--only not the right one. She knew she was
+deceiving herself, but clung to the one hope that filled her--that
+she might live for her child, and her child might live for her.
+
+The human heart must have hope. That is as necessary to its
+thriving as sun is to the flowers. If it were not for the spring
+before it, the flower-root would rot in the ground, the tree canker
+at the core; the bird would speed south never to return; the insect
+would not retreat under shelter in the rain; the dormouse would not
+hibernate, the ant collect its stores, the bee its honey. There
+could be no life without expectation; and a life without hope in
+man or woman is that of a machine--not even that of an animal. Hope
+is the mainspring of every activity; it is the spur to all
+undertakings; it is the buttress to every building; it runs in all
+youthful blood; it gives buoyancy to every young heart and vivacity
+to every brain. Mehetabel had hope in her now. She had no thought
+for herself save how it concerned her child. In that child her hope
+was incorporate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A TROUBLED HOPE.
+
+
+On the following morning Mehetabel was conveyed to Godalming, and
+was brought before the magistrates, assembled in Petty Sessions.
+
+She was in no great anxiety. She knew that she was innocent, and
+had a childlike, childish confidence that innocence must come out
+clear of stain, and then only guilt suffered punishment.
+
+Before the magistrates this confidence of hers was rudely shaken.
+The evidence that would be produced against her at the Assizes was
+gone through in rough, as is always done in these cases, and the
+charge assumed a gravity of complexion that astonished and abashed
+her. That she and her husband had not lived in harmony was shown;
+also that he had asserted that she had attempted his life with his
+gun; that he was afraid she would poison him if trusted with the
+opiate prescribed for him when suffering from a wound. It was
+further shown by Giles Cheel and Sarah Rocliffe that she had
+threatened to kill her husband with a stone, if not that actually
+used by her, and then on the table, by one so like it as to be
+hardly distinguishable from it. This threat had been made on the
+night previous to the death of Jonas Kink. On the morning she had
+encountered her husband in a field belonging to Mr. James Colpus,
+and this meeting had been witnessed by the owner of the field, his
+daughter, and by Thomas Rocliffe and his son Samuel.
+
+Colpus and his daughter had been at some distance in the rear, but
+Thomas and Samuel Rocliffe had been close by, in a sunken lane;
+they had witnessed the meeting from a distance of under thirty
+feet, and were so concealed by the hedge of holly and the bank as
+to render it improbable that they were visible to the accused.
+
+James Colpus had seen that an altercation took place between
+Mehetabel and the deceased, but was at too great a distance to
+hear what was said. He had seen Mehetabel raise her hand, holding
+something--what he could not say--and threaten Jonas with it; but
+he did not actually see her strike him, because at that moment he
+turned to say something to his daughter.
+
+The evidence of Mary Colpus was to much the same effect. The
+accused had come to her to ask for a situation vacant in the house,
+through the dismissal of Julia Caesar, her former servant, and
+some difficulty had been raised as to her reception, on account
+of the doubt whether Jonas would allow his wife to go out into
+service, and leave her home. She and her father had promised to
+consider the matter, and with this understanding Mehetabel had
+left, carrying her babe.
+
+Just as she reached the further extremity of the field, she met
+her husband, Jonas Kink, who came up over the stile, out of the
+lane, apparently unobserved by Mehetabel; for, when he addressed
+her, she started, drew back, and thrust her hand into her pocket
+and pulled out a stone. With this she threatened to strike him; but
+whether she carried her threat into execution, or what occasioned
+his fall, she could not say, owing to her father having spoken to
+her at that moment, and she had diverted her eyes from the two in
+the field to him. When next she looked Jonas had disappeared, and
+she heard the shouts, and saw the faces of Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, as they came through the hedge.
+
+Then her father said, "Something has happened!" and started
+running. She had followed at a distance, and seen the Rocliffes
+pull the body of Jonas Kink out of the kiln and lay it on the grass.
+
+Thomas Rocliffe was a stupid man, and the magistrates had difficulty
+with him. They managed, however, to extract from him the following
+statement on oath:
+
+He and Samuel had been out the previous day along with Jonas Kink,
+his brother-in-law, looking for Mehetabel. Jonas thought she had
+gone to the Moor and had drowned herself, and he had said he did
+not care "such a won'erful sight whether she had."
+
+On the morning of the event of his death Jonas had come to them,
+and asked them to attend him again, and from what he, Thomas, had
+heard from Sally, he said that they had been on the wrong scent
+the night before, and that they must look for Matabel nigher, in
+or about the village.
+
+They had gone together, he and Jonas and his son Samuel, along the
+lane that led out of the Punch-Bowl towards Thursley by the
+Colpus's farm, and as they went along, in the deep lane, Jonas
+shouted out that he saw his wife coming along. Then he, Thomas
+and Samuel looked, and they also saw her. She was walking very
+slow, and "was cuddlin' the baby," and did not seem to know where
+she was going, for she went wide of the stile. Then Jonas got up
+over the stile, and told Thomas and Samuel to bide where they
+were till he called them. They did so, and saw him address
+Mehetabel, who was surprised when he spoke to her, and then
+something was said between them, and she pulled a big stone out
+of her pocket and raised it over her head, stepped forward,
+"sharp-like," and knocked him with it, on the head, so that he
+fell like one struck with a thunderbolt, backward into the kiln.
+Thereupon he and Samuel came up over the hedge, and he jumped
+into the kiln, and found his brother-in-law there, huddled up
+in a heap at the bottom. He managed with difficulty to heave
+him out, and with the assistance of Samuel and Farmer Colpus, to
+lay him on the grass, when all three supposed he was dead.
+
+When they said that he was dead, then Mehetabel laughed.
+
+This statement produced a commotion in court. Then they got a
+hurdle or gate, he couldn't say which, and lifted the deceased
+on to it and carried him home to the Punch-Bowl. It was only when
+they laid him on the bed that they saw he still breathed. They
+heard him groan, and he moved one hand--the right. He was rather
+stiff and awkward with his left since his accident.
+
+This evidence was corroborated at every point by the testimony of
+Samuel, who was quite positive that Mehetabel had struck Jonas on
+the head. Like all stupid people, the two Rocliffes were ready to
+swear to and maintain with tenacity those points which were false
+or inaccurate, and to hesitate about asserting with confidence such
+as were true, and could not be other than true. It is not always
+in the power of a wise and observant man to discriminate between
+facts and imagination, and a dull and undeveloped intelligence is
+absolutely incapable of distinguishing between them.
+
+The evidence of the surgeon was to the effect that Jonas Kink had
+died from the consequences of fracture of the skull, but whether
+caused by a blow from a stone or from a fall he was unable to
+state. There were contusions on his person. He probably struck
+his head against the bricks of the kiln as he fell or was thrown
+into it. Abrasions of the skin were certainly so caused. When he,
+the witness, arrived at the Punch-Bowl, Kink was already dead. He
+might have been dead an hour, the body was not absolutely cold.
+When asked whether the piece of ironstone on the table might have
+dealt the blow which had broken in the skull of Jonas, he replied,
+that it might have done so certainly, and the fracture of the skull
+was quite compatible with the charge advanced that it had been so
+caused.
+
+The next witness summoned was Betty Chivers, who gave her evidence
+with great reluctance, and with many tears. It was true that the
+stone produced in court had been taken by her from the hand of the
+accused, and that immediately on her return from the farm of Mr.
+Colpus. Mehetabel had not told her that she had met her husband,
+had not said that he was dead, but had admitted that she had armed
+herself with the stone for the purpose of self-defence against
+Jonas, her husband, who, she believed, desired to take the child
+from her.
+
+Mehetabel was asked if she had anything to say, and when she
+declined to say anything, was committed for trial at the ensuing
+assizes at Kingston.
+
+Throughout the hearing she had been uneasy. The cell where she had
+been confined was close to the court, and she had been obliged to
+leave her child with a woman who had attended to her; and with this
+person the infant would not be at rest. Faintly, and whenever there
+was a lull in the court, she could hear the wail of her child, the
+little voice rising and falling, and she was impatient to be back
+with it, to still its cries and console the little heart, that was
+frightened at the presence of strangers and separation from its
+mother.
+
+Through all the time that she was in court, Mehetabel was listening
+for the voice of the little one, and paying far more attention to
+that, than to the evidence produced against her.
+
+It was not till Mehetabel was removed to Kingston on Thames and put
+in the prison to await her trial, that the full danger that menaced
+was realized by her, and then it was mainly as it affected her
+child, that it alarmed her. Life had not been so precious, that
+she valued it, save for the sake of this feeble child so dependent
+on her for everything.
+
+Her confidence in justice was no longer great. Ever since her
+marriage--indeed, ever since Mrs. Verstage had turned against her,
+she had been buffeted by Fortune, devoid of friends. Why should a
+Court of Justice treat her otherwise than had the little world
+with which she had been brought in contact.
+
+In Kingston prison the wife of the jailer was kind, and took a
+fancy to the unhappy young mother. She sat with and talked to her.
+
+"If they hang me," said Mehetabel, "what will become of my baby?"
+
+"It will go to a relation."
+
+"It has no relations but Sally Rocliffe, and she has ill-wished it.
+She will be unkind to it, she wants it to die; and if it lives,
+she will speak to my child unkindly of me."
+
+She wiped her eyes. "I cannot bear to think of that. I might make
+up my mind to die, if I knew my baby would be kindly cared for and
+loved--though none could love it and care for it as I do. But I
+could not die thinking it was taught that I was a bad woman, and
+heard untrue things said of me every day. I know Sally, she would
+do that. I had rather my child went on the parish, as I did, than
+that Sally Rocliffe should have it. I was a charity girl, and I
+was well cared for by Susanna Verstage, but that was a chance, or
+rather a Providence, and I know very well there are not many
+Susanna Verstages in the world. There is not another in Thursley,
+no, nor in Witley either."
+
+"Your child could not go on the parish. Your husband, as I have
+been told, had a freehold of his own and some money."
+
+"He lost all his money."
+
+"But the farm was his, and that must be worth a few hundred pounds,
+so that it would not be possible for the child to go on the parish."
+
+"Then it must go to Sally Rocliffe. There is no other relation."
+
+This was now the great trouble of Mehetabel. She had accepted the
+inevitable, that wrong judgment would be pronounced, and that she
+would be hung. Then the thought that her little darling would be
+placed under the charge of the woman who had embittered her married
+life, the woman who believed her to be guilty of murder,--this
+was more than she could endure.
+
+She had passed completely from confidence that her innocence would
+be acknowledged and that she would at once be released, a condition
+in which she had rested previous to her appearance before the
+magistrates at Godalming, into the reverse state, she accepted,
+now that she was in prison, awaiting her trial, as a certainty that
+she would be condemned and sentenced to the gallows.
+
+This frame of mind in which she was affected the jailer's wife, and
+made her suppose that Mehetabel was guilty of the crime wherewith
+she was charged.
+
+All Mehetabel's thoughts and schemings were directed towards the
+disposal of her child and its welfare after she was taken from it.
+All the struggle within her torn heart was to reconcile herself to
+the parting, and to have faith in Providence that her child would
+be cared for when she was removed.
+
+How that could be she saw not; and she came at length to hope that
+when she was taken away the poor little orphan babe would follow
+her. In that thought she found more comfort than in the anticipation
+of its living, ill-treated by its aunt, and brought up to be
+ashamed of its mother.
+
+"You say," said Mehetabel to the jaileress, "that they don't hang
+women in chains now. I am glad of that. But where will I be buried?
+Do you think it could be contrived that if my baby were to die at
+some time after me it might be laid at my side? That is the only
+thing I now desire--and that--oh! I think I could be happy if I
+were promised that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+BEFORE THE JUDGE.
+
+
+Previous to the Assizes, Joe Filmer arrived in Kingston in a trap
+drawn by old Clutch. He was admitted into the prison on his
+expressing his desire to see Mehetabel.
+
+After the first salutations were passed, Joe proceeded to business.
+"You see, Matabel," said he, "the master don't want you to think
+he won't help you out o' this little mess you've got into. But he
+don't want Polly to know it. The master, he's won'erful under that
+young woman's--I can't say thumb, but say her big toe. So if he
+does wot he does about you, it's through me, and he'll sit
+innercent like by the fire twiddlin' of his thumbs, and talkin'
+of the weather. Master would be crafty as an old fox if he weren't
+stupid as an owl. I can't think how he can have allowed himself to
+get so much into Polly's power. It is so; and when he wants to do
+a thing without her knowin', he has to do it underhand ways. Well,
+he thort if he let our 'oss and trap go, as Polly'd be suspectin'
+something, and Polly's terrible set against you. So he told me to
+take a holiday and visit a dyin' aunt, and borrow old Clutch and a
+trap from the Angel at Gorlmyn. Clutch have been there all along,
+ever since your affair. There's no keepin' him away. So I came
+here; and won'erful slow Clutch was. When I came to Kingston I put
+up at the Sun, and sez I to the ostler: Be there a good lawyer
+hereabouts, think you? 'Well,' sez he, 'I'm a stranger to Kingston.
+I were born and bred at Cheam, but I was ostler first in Chertsey,
+and then for six months at Twickenham. But there's a young woman
+I'm courtin', I think she does the washin' for a soort of a lawyer
+chap, and I'll ax she at my dinner time.' So he did, and he came
+back and told me as the gal sed her master was a lawyer. She didn't
+think much of the missus, she was mean about perquisates, but the
+master was decent enough, and never came pokin into the kitchen
+except when he wanted to have his socks dried. So I reckon he'll do
+the job for you. Well, I gave that there ostler threepence, and
+axed him to do me the favor of tellin' that there lawyer that I'd
+be glad to stand him a glass o' ale if he'd step over to the bar
+of the Angel. I'd got a bit of business I wanted to consult him
+about. Well, he came, affable enough, and I told him all--as how I
+wanted him to defend you, and get you out of this tidy hobble you
+was in, and wot it 'ud cost. Then he thought a bit, and said that
+he could get up the case, but must engage counsel. He was only a
+turnkey, or some name like that; I sed, sed I, he was to manage
+all, and he might take it or lump it on these terms: Five and
+twenty pounds if he got you off clear, and if he didn't, and you
+was hanged, then nuthin'."
+
+Joe smiled and rubbed his hands in self-satisfaction. Then he
+continued: "You know the master stands behind me. He'll find the
+money, so long as Polly don't know; but he thort, and so does I,
+as it could be done cheapest if I took it on me. So I sed to the
+lawyer chap, who was makin' faces as if he'd got a herrin' bone in
+his teeth, sez I, 'I'm nort but an ostler in a little country inn,
+and it's not to be supposed I've much savin's. Nor is Matabel any
+relation, only she wos maid in the inn whilst I wos ostlin', so I
+feels a sort o' a likin' for the girl, and I don't mind standin'
+five and twenty pound to get her off. More I can't give.' That,
+Matabel, was gammon. The master wouldn't stick at five and twenty,
+but he told me to try on this little game. He's deep is the master,
+for, all the innercence he puts on. I said to the ostler I'd give
+him half-a-crown for the gal as washes, as she introduced me to the
+lawyer. That there turnkey, as he calls himself, he sez he must get
+the counsel, and I sez, that, of course, and it comes out of the
+five and twenty. Then he made more faces, but I stuck to it, and I
+believe he'll do it. He axed me about particulars, and I sed he wos
+to consult you. The master sed that durin' the trial I wos to be
+nigh the lawyer, and if he seemed to flag at all I wos to say,
+'Another five pound, old ginger, if you gets her off.' So I think
+we shall manage it, and Polly be never the wiser."
+
+The Assizes began. Mehetabel, in her prison, could hear the church
+bells ring merry peals to welcome the judge. She was in sore anxiety
+about the child, that had failed greatly of late. The trouble in
+which its mother had been involved had told on its never strong
+constitution. Even had she been occupied with her own defence and
+ultimate fate, the condition of the babe imperiously demanded that
+the main solicitude of its mother should be devoted to it, to still
+its cries, to relieve its pains, to lull it to necessary sleep.
+
+When Mahetabel knew that she was in a few minutes to be summoned to
+answer in court for her life, she hung over the little sufferer,
+clasped it and its crib in her arms, and laid her cheek beside its
+fevered face on the pillow. She could rest in no other position. If
+she left the child, it was to pace the cell--if she turned her
+thoughts to her defence, she was called back by a peevish cry to
+consider the infant.
+
+When finally summoned to the court she committed the babe to the
+friendly and worthy jaileress, who undertook to care for it to the
+best of her abilities. The appearance of Mehetabel in the court
+produced at once a favorable impression. Her beauty, her youth, the
+sweetness and pathos of expression in her intelligent face, and the
+modesty with which she bore the stare of the crowd, sent a wave of
+sympathy through all present, and stirred pity in every heart. When
+Mehetabel had recovered the confusion and alarm into which she was
+thrown by finding herself in the dock with heads all about her, eyes
+fixed upon her, and mouths whispering comments, she timidly looked
+up and around.
+
+She saw the judge in his robes under the Royal arms, the barristers,
+in gowns and wigs, she looked in the direction of the jury,
+and with a start recognized one amongst them. By a strange chance
+Iver Verstage had been chosen as one of the petty jury, and the
+prosecution not suspecting that he was in any way mixed up in the
+matter before the court, not knowing that he was acquainted with
+the prisoner, that he came from the neighborhood of the scene of
+the murder, suffered him to pass unchallenged. Iver did not turn
+his face her way, and avoided meeting her eye.
+
+Then she saw Joe Filmer's honest countenance; he sought what Iver
+avoided, and greeted her with a smile and a nod.
+
+There was one more present whom Mehetabel recognized, and that in
+spite of his wig. She saw in the barrister who was to act as
+counsel in the prosecution that same young man who had insulted
+her on the dam of the Hammer Pond.
+
+There was little fresh evidence produced beyond that elicited
+before the magistrates. Almost the only new matter was what was
+drawn from the two Rocliffes relative to the conversation that
+had passed between the prisoner and the deceased previous to his
+death. But neither father nor son could give a clear account, and
+they contradicted each other and themselves. But both were confident
+as to Mehetabel having struck Jonas on the head.
+
+The counsel for the defence was able to make a point here. According
+to their account they were in a lane, the level of which was
+considerably lower than that of the field in which the altercation
+took place. There was a hedge of holly intervening. Now holly does
+not lose its leaves in winter. Holly does not grow in straggling
+fashion, but densely. How were these two men able to see through
+so close a screen? Moreover, if they could see the prisoner then
+it was obvious she could see them, and was it likely that she would
+strike her husband before their eyes. Neither Samuel nor Thomas
+Rocliffe was able to explain how he saw through a hedge of holly,
+but he had no hesitation in saying that see he did. They were both
+looking and had chosen a spot where a view was possible, and that
+Mehetabel did not know they were present was almost certain, as
+she was looking at Jonas all the while and not in their direction.
+The counsel was disappointed, he had hoped to make much of this
+point.
+
+Mehetabel was uneasy when she noticed now that the bewigged young
+man who had spoken with her at the Hammer Pond labored to bring
+out from the witnesses' admissions that would tell against her.
+He was not content with the particulars of the death of Jonas, he
+went back to the marriage of Mehetabel, and to her early history.
+He forced from the Rocliffes, father and son, and also from Colpus
+and his daughter the statement that when Mehetabel had been told
+her husband was dead she had laughed.
+
+Up to this the feeling of all in court had been unmistakably in her
+favor, but now, as in the petty sessions, the knowledge that she
+had laughed turned the current of sympathy from her.
+
+When all the evidence had been produced, then the counsel for the
+prosecution stood up and addressed the court. The case, said he,
+was a peculiarly painful one, for it exhibited the blackest
+ingratitude in one who owed, he might say, everything to the
+deceased. As the court had heard--the accused had been brought
+up in a small wayside tavern, the resort of sailors on their way
+between London and Portsmouth, where she had served in the capacity
+of barmaid, giving drink to the low fellows who frequented the
+public-house, and he need hardly say that such a bringing up must
+kill all the modesty, morality, sense of self-respect and common
+decency out of a young girl's mind. She was good-looking, and had
+been the object of familiarities from the drunken vagabonds who
+passed and repassed along the road, and stayed to slake their
+thirst, and bandy jokes with the pretty barmaid. From this situation
+she had been rescued by Jonas Kink, a substantial farmer. Having
+been a foundling she had no name. She had been brought up at the
+parish expense, and had no relatives either to curb her propensities
+for evil, or to withdraw her from a situation in which no young
+woman, he ventured to say, could spend her early years without
+moral degradation. It might almost be asserted that Jonas Kink,
+the deceased, had lifted this unfortunate creature from the gutter.
+He had given her his name, he had given her a home. He had treated
+her with uniform kindness--no evidence had been produced that he
+had ever maltreated her. On the contrary, as the widow Chivers had
+admitted--the prisoner said herself that the deceased had never
+struck her with a stick. That there had been quarrels he freely
+admitted, that the deceased had spoken sharply was not to be
+denied. But he asked: What husband would endure that the young
+wife who was indebted to him for everything, should resume her
+light and reprehensible conduct, or should show inclination to
+do so, after he had made her his own? No doubt whatever that the
+prisoner at the bar felt the monotony of a farmhouse irksome
+after the lively existence in a public house. No doubt she missed
+the society of topers, and their tipsy familiarities. But was
+that reason why she should kill her husband?
+
+He believed that he had been able to show that this murder had
+been planned; that the prisoner had provided herself with the
+implement wherewith it was her purpose to rid herself of the
+husband who was distasteful to her. With deliberate intention to
+free herself, she had waited to catch him alone, and where she
+believed she was unobserved. The jury must consider how utterly
+degraded a woman must be to compass the death of the man to whom
+she had sworn eternal fidelity and love. A woman who could do this
+was not one who should be suffered to live; she was a scandal to
+her sex; she dishonored humanity.
+
+The counsel proceeded to say: "Gentlemen of the jury, I have
+anxiously looked about for some excuses, something that might
+extenuate the atrocity of this crime. I have found none. The man
+who steals bread to support his starving children must suffer
+under the law for what he has done. Can you allow to go free a
+woman, because young, who has wilfully, wantonly, and deliberately
+compassed the murder of her husband, merely, as far as we can
+judge, because he stood in her way pointing the direction to
+morality and happiness. Whatever may be said in defence of this
+unfortunate prisoner now on her trial, gentlemen of the jury, do
+not mistake your office. You are not here to excuse crime and to
+forgive criminals, but to judge them with justice. Do not be
+swayed by any false feeling of commiseration because of the sex
+and youth of the accused. Remember that a wife guilty of the
+murder of her husband, who is allowed to run free, encourages
+all others, possibly even your own, to rid themselves of their
+husbands, whenever they resent a look or a word of reproach. I
+will lose no more words, but demand a sentence of guilty against
+Mehetabel Kink."
+
+The young mother had hardly been able to endure the sense of shame
+that overwhelmed her during the progress of the speech of the
+counsel. Flushes of crimson swept through her face, at his
+insinuations and statements affecting her character, and then the
+color faded leaving her deadly white. This was an agony of death
+worse than the gallows. She could have cried out, "Take my life--but
+spare me this dishonor."
+
+Joe Filmer looked troubled and alarmed; he worked his way to the
+back of the bench, where sat the counsel for the defence, and
+said: "Old Crock, five guineas--ten, if you'll get her off. Five
+from the master, and five from me. And I'll kick that rascal who
+has just spoken, as he comes out; I will, be Jiggers!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE VERDICT.
+
+
+When the counsel for the defense stood up, Mehetabel raised her
+shame-stricken face. This man, she knew, would speak a good word
+for her--had he not done so already? Had not all his efforts been
+directed towards getting out of the witnesses something favorable
+to her, and to showing contradictions in their statements which
+told against her?
+
+But she looked timidly towards him, and dared not meet the glances
+of the crowd in the court. What must they think of her--that she
+was an abandoned woman without self-restraint; a disgrace to her
+sex, as that young barrister had said.
+
+Again, it must be said, she was accustomed to injustice. She had
+been unfairly treated by Susanna Verstage. She had met with cruel
+wrong from her husband. By the whole of the Punch-Bowl she had been
+received without generosity, without that openness of mind which
+should have been manifested towards a stranger claiming its
+hospitality. She had not received the kindness that was her due
+from her sister-in-law. Even the well-disposed Joe Filmer believed
+her to be guilty of murder. But perhaps she could have borne all
+this better than the wounding insults offered her by the counsel
+for the prosecution, blasting her character before the world.
+
+The barrister engaged to defend her did his utmost, and did it with
+ability. He charged the jury not to be deceived into believing that
+this was a case of premeditated murder, even if they were satisfied
+that Jonas had been killed by the stone carried by the defendant.
+
+As he had brought out by the evidence of the widow Betty Chivers,
+and by that of the surgeon, the prisoner had been off her head,
+and was not responsible for what she said or did. What more likely
+then that she raved in delirium when she asserted that she would
+kill her husband, and what more evident token of having her brain
+overbalanced than that she should be running about the country
+hiding in caves, carrying her child with her, under the impression
+that her husband desired to take it from her, and perhaps do it an
+injury. That was not the conduct of a sane woman. Why should a
+father seek to rob her of her child? Could he suckle it? Did he
+want to be encumbered with an unweaned infant? Then as to the
+alleged murder. Was the testimony of the two men, Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, worth a rush? Was not this Thomas a fool, who had been
+enveigled into a marriage with a tramp who called herself a
+countess? Did he not show when under cross-examination that he was
+a man of limited intelligence? And was his son Samuel much better?
+There was a dense holly hedge betwixt them and the prisoner. He
+put it to any candid person, who can see so clearly through a
+holly bush as to be able to distinguish the action of parties on
+the further side? These two witnesses had fallen into contradiction
+as to what they had heard said, through the holly hedge, and it was
+much easier to hear than to see athwart such an obstruction.
+
+There was enough to account for the death of Jonas Kink without
+having recourse to the theory of murder. He had received a blow
+on his head, but he had received more blows than one; when a man
+falls backwards and falls down into a kiln that yawns behind him
+he would strike his head against the side more than once, and with
+sufficient force to break in his skull and kill him. How could they
+be sure that he was not killed by a blow against the bricks of the
+kiln edge? The accused had charged the deceased with having tried
+to murder her baby. That was what both the witnesses had agreed
+in, though one would have it she had asserted he tried to poison
+it, and the other that he had endeavored to strangle it. Such a
+charge was enough to surprise a father, and no wonder that he
+started back, and in starting back fell into the kiln, the existence
+of which he had forgotten if he ever knew of it. He the counsel,
+entreated the jury not to be led away by appearances, but to weigh
+the evidence and to pronounce as their verdict not guilty.
+
+No sooner had he seated himself than he was nudged in the back,
+and Joe Filmer said, in a loud whisper, "Famous! Shake hands, and
+have a drop o' Hollands." Then the ostler thrust forward a bottle
+that had been in his pocket. "It's first-rate stuff," he said. "The
+master gave it me."
+
+The Judge summed up and charged the jury. As Joe Filmer described
+his address afterwards, "He said that there were six things again'
+her, and about a half-a-dozen for her; there was evidence as went
+one road and evidence as went t'other way. That she was either
+guilty or not guilty, and the gem'men of the jury was to please
+themselves and say wot they liked."
+
+Thereupon the jury withdrew.
+
+Now when the twelve men were in the room to which they had retired,
+then the foreman said:--"Well, gents, what do you think now? You
+give us your opinion, Mr. Quittenden."
+
+"Then, sir," answered the gentleman addressed, an upholsterer. "I
+should say 'ang 'er. It won't do, in my opinion, to let wives think
+they can play old Harry with their 'usbands. What the gentleman
+said as acted in the prosecution was true as gospel. It won't do
+for us to be soft heads and let our wives think they can massacre
+us with impunity. Women ain't reasonin' creatures, they're hanimals
+of impulse, and if one of us comes 'ome with a drop too much, or
+grumbles at the children bein' spoiled, then, I say, if our wives
+think they can do it and get let off they'll up wi' the flat iron
+and brain us. I say guilty. Ang 'er."
+
+"Well, sir," said the foreman, "that's your judgment. Now let us
+hear what Josias Kingerle has to say."
+
+"Sir," said the gentleman addressed, who was in the tannery
+business, "if she weren't so good-lookin' I'd say let her off."
+
+As an expression of surprise found utterance Mr. Kingerle proceeded
+to explain.
+
+"You see, gentlemen of the jury, and you, Mr. Foreman, I have a
+wife, and that good lady was in court, an' kept her eye on me all
+the time like a rattlesnake. I couldn't steal a peep at the prisoner
+but she was shakin' of her parasol handle at me, and though she
+didn't say it with words yet I read it in her eye, 'Now then, Josiah,
+none o' your games and gushes of pity over pretty gals.' It's as
+much as my domestic felicity is worth, gentlemen, to say not guilty.
+My wife would say, and your wives would all say, 'O yes! very fine.
+Because she was 'andsome you have acquitted her. Had we--' I'm
+speakin' as if it was our wives addressin' of us, gentlemen--'Had
+we been in the dock, or had there been an ugly woman, you would
+have said guilty at once.' So for peace and quietness I say guilty.
+'Ang 'er."
+
+"Well, Mr. Kingerle," said the foreman, "that is your opinion; you
+agree with Mr. Quittenden. Now then, what say you, Mr. Wrist?"
+
+The juryman addressed was a stout and heavy man. He stretched his
+short legs, seated himself in his chair, and after a long pause
+said, "I don't know as I care particular, as far as I'm concerned.
+But it's better in my opinion to hang her, even if innocent, than
+let her off. It's setting an example, a fine one, to the wimen. I
+agree with Mr. Quittenden, and say--guilty. 'Ang 'er.'
+
+"Now then, Mr. Sanson."
+
+"I," answered a timid little apothecary, "I wouldn't wish to differ
+from any one. I had rather you passed me over now, and just asked
+the rest. Then I'll fall in with the general division."
+
+"Very well, then--and you, Mr. Sniggins."
+
+"I am rayther hard of hearing," answered that gentleman, "and I
+didn't catch all that was said in evidence, and then I had a bad
+night. I'd taken some lobster last evening, and it didn't agree
+with me, and I couldn't sleep, and it was rayther hot in the court,
+and I just closed my eyes now and again, and what with being hard
+of hearing and closing my eyes, I'm not very well up in the case,
+but I say--guilty. 'Ang 'er."
+
+"And you, Mr.--I beg your pardon, I did not catch your name."
+
+"Verstage."
+
+"Not a Kingston gent?"
+
+"Oh, no, from Guildford,"
+
+"What say you, sir?"
+
+"I--emphatically, not guilty." Iver threw himself back in his
+chair, extended his legs, and thrust his hands into his trouser
+pockets. "The whole thing is rank nonsense. How could a woman with
+a baby in her arms knock a man down? You try, gents, any one of
+you--take your last born, and whilst nursing it, attempt to pull
+your wife's nose. You can't do it. The thing is obvious." He looked
+round with assurance. "The man was a curmudgeon. He misused her.
+He was in bad circumstances through the failure of the Wealden
+Bank. He wanted money, and the child had just had a fortune left
+it--something a little under two hundred pounds."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked the foreman. "That didn't come out
+in evidence."
+
+"P'raps you shut your ears, as Mr. Sniggins shut his peepers.
+P'raps it came out, p'raps it didn't. But it's true all the same.
+And the fellow wanted the money. Matabel--I mean the prisoner at
+the bar thought--rightly or wrongly matters not--that he wished
+for the death of his child, and she ran away. She was not crazy;
+she was resolved to protect her child. She swore that she would
+defend it. That Giles Cheel and Mrs. Rocliffe said. What mother
+would not do the same? As for those two men, Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, they never saw her knock down Jonas Kink, for the good
+reason that she was holding the baby, and couldn't do it. But
+when she told him, he was seeking his child's life--all for the
+money left it--then he stumbled back, and fell into the kiln--not
+guilty. If I sit here till I starve you all--not guilty."
+
+"But, sir, what you state did not come out in the evidence."
+
+"Did it not? So much the worse for the case. It wasn't properly got
+up. I'll tell you what, gents, if you and me can't agree, then
+after a time the jury will be dismissed, and the whole case will
+have to be tried again. Then the evidence will come up that you
+think you haven't heard now, and she'll be acquitted, and every
+one will say of this jury--that we were a parcel of noodles."
+
+"Well, sir, not guilty," said the foreman. "What do you say, Mr.
+Lilliwhite?"
+
+"Sir," answered the gentleman addressed, "I'd like to know what
+the cost to the county will be of an execution. I say it can't be
+done under a hundred pounds, if you calculate the carpentering and
+the timber, and the fees, and the payment of the constables to keep
+order, and of the hangman. I say it ain't worth it. There'll be
+another farthing stuck on the rates, all along of this young woman.
+I'm again' it. Not guilty. Let 'er go."
+
+"And I," said the next juryman, "am averse to capital punishment. I
+wrote a little tract on the subject. I do not know if any of you
+gentlemen have seen it. I have copies in my pocket. I shall be happy
+to present each of you with a copy. I couldn't possibly say guilty
+and deliver her over to a violent death, without controverting my
+published opinions, and, so to speak, stultifying myself. So,
+really, sir, I must positively say not guilty, and would say as
+much on behalf of the most ferocious murderer, of Blue Beard
+himself, rather than admit anything which might lead to a sentence
+of capital punishment. Not guilty."
+
+Nearly an hour and a half elapsed before the jury returned to the
+court. It was clear that there had been differences of opinion,
+and some difficulty in overcoming these, and bringing all the
+twelve, if not to one mind, at all events to one voice.
+
+A silence fell on the whole court.
+
+Mehetabel who had been allowed a seat, rose, and stood pale as
+death, with her eyes fixed on the jurymen, as they filed in.
+
+The foreman stepped forward, and said: "We find the prisoner not
+guilty."
+
+Then, in the stillness with which the verdict was received,
+Mehetabel's voice was heard, tremulous and pleading. She had
+dropped a curtsey, and said, "Thank you, gentlemen." Then turning
+to the judge, and again dropping a curtsey, she raised her eyes
+timidly, modestly, to the judge, and said, "Please, sir, may I go
+to my baby?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+WELCOME.
+
+
+Mehetabel was not able to leave Kingston for several days. Her child
+was too ill to bear the journey to Thursley; and the good-natured
+jailer's wife kindly urged her to remain as her guest till she
+thought that the little being might be removed with safety. Joe
+Filmer would drive her back, and Joe consented to tarry. He had
+business to discharge, the settlement of the account with the
+solicitor, or turnkey as he called him, to haggle over the sum,
+and try to get him to abate a sovereign because paid in ready money.
+He had also to satisfy the girl who had recommended the attorney,
+and the ostler who had consulted the girl, and old Clutch, who
+having found his quarters agreeable at the stable of the Sun, was
+disinclined to depart, and pretended that he had the strangles, and
+coughed himself into convulsions. At length, towards the end of the
+week, Mehetabel thought the child was easier, and Joe having
+satisfied all parties to whom he was indebted, and Clutch having
+been denied his food unless he came forth and allowed himself to
+be harnessed, Mehetabel departed from Kingston, on her return
+journey.
+
+The pace at which old Clutch moved was slow, the slightest elevation
+in the ground gave him an excuse for a walk, and he turned his head
+inquiringly from side to side as he went along, to observe the
+scenery. If he passed a hedge, or a field in which was a horse,
+he persisted in standing still and neighing. Whereupon the beast
+addressed, perhaps at the plough, perhaps a hunter turned out to
+graze, responded, and till the conversation in reciprocal neighs
+had concluded to the satisfaction of the mind of Clutch, that
+venerable steed refused to proceed.
+
+"I suppose you've heard about Betty Chivers?" said Joe.
+
+"About Betty! What?"
+
+"She got a bad chill at the trial, or maybe coming to it; and she
+is not returned to Thursley. I heard she was gone to her sister,
+who married a joiner at Chertsey, for a bit o' a change, and to be
+nussed. Poor thing, she took on won'erful about your little affair.
+So you'll not see her at Thursley."
+
+"I am sorry for that," said Mehetabel, "and most sorry that I have
+caused her inconvenience, and that she is ill through me."
+
+"I heard her say it was damp sheets, and not you at all. Old wimen
+are won'erful tender, more so than gals. And, of course, you've
+heard about Iver."
+
+"Iver! What of Iver?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheek.
+
+"Well, Mister Colpus, he had a talk wi' Iver about matters at the
+Ship. He told him that the girl Polly were gettin' the upper hand
+in everythin', and that if he didn't look smart and interfere she'd
+be marryin' the old chap right off on end, and gettin' him to leave
+everythin' to her, farm and public house and all his savings.
+Though she's an innercent lookin' wench, and wi' a head like a
+suet puddin' she knows how to get to the blind side of the master,
+and though she's terrible at breakages, she is that smooth-tongued
+that she can get him to believe that the fault lies everywhere else
+but at her door. So Iver, he said he'd go off to Thursley at once,
+and send Polly to the right-abouts. And a very good thing too. I'll
+be glad to see the back of her. 'Twas a queer thing now, Iver
+gettin' on to jury, weren't it?"
+
+"Yes, Joe, I was surprised."
+
+"I reckon the Rocliffes didn't half like it, but they made no
+complaint to the lawyer, and so he didn't think there was aught
+amiss. You see, the Rocliffes be won'erful ignorant folk. If that
+blackguard lawyer chap as sed what he sed about you had known who
+Iver was, he'd have turned him out. That insolent rascal. I sed I'd
+punish him. I will. They told me he comes fishin' to the Frensham
+Ponds and Pudmoor. He stays at the Hut Inn. I'll be in waitin' for
+him next time, and give him a duckin' in them ponds, see if I don't."
+
+The journey home was not to be made in a day when old Clutch was
+concerned, and it had to be broken at Guildford. Moreover, at
+Godalming it was interrupted by the obstinacy of the horse,
+which--whether through revival of latent sentiment toward the
+gray mare, or through conviction that he had done enough, refused
+to proceed, and lay down in the shafts in the middle of the road.
+Happily he did this with such deliberation, and after having
+announced his intention so unequivocally, that Mehetabel was able
+to escape out of the taxcart with her baby unhurt.
+
+"It can't be helped," said Joe Filmer, "we'll never move him out
+but by levers; what will you do, Matabel? Walk on or wait?"
+
+Mehetabel elected to proceed on foot. The distance was five miles.
+She would have to carry her child, but the babe was not a heavy
+weight. Gladly would she have carried it twice the distance if
+only it were more solid and a greater burden. The hands were almost
+transparent, the face as wax, and the nose unduly sharp for an
+infant of such a tender age.
+
+"I daresay," said Joe aside, "that if I can blind old Clutch and
+turn him round so that he don't know his bearin's, that I may get
+him up and to run along, thinkin' he's on his way back to Gorlmyn.
+But he's deep--terrible deep."
+
+Accordingly Mehetabel walked on, and walked for nearly two hours
+without being overtaken. She reached that point of the main road
+whence a way diverges on the right to the village of Thursley,
+whereas the Ship Inn lies a little further forward on the highway.
+She purposed going to the dame's schoolhouse, to ascertain whether
+Mrs. Chivers had returned. If she had not, then Mehetabel did not
+know what she should do, whither she should go. Return to the
+Punch-Bowl she would not. Anything was preferable to that. The
+house of Jonas Kink was associated with thoughts of wretchedness,
+and she could not endure to enter it again.
+
+She reached the cottage and found it locked. She applied at the
+house of the nearest neighbor, to learn whether Betty Chivers was
+expected home shortly, and also whether she had left the key. She
+was told that news had reached Thursley that the schoolmistress
+was still unwell, and the neighbor added, that on leaving, Betty
+had carried the key of the cottage with her.
+
+"May I sit down?" asked Mehetabel; her brow was bathed in
+perspiration, and her knees were shaking under her, whilst her
+arms ached and seemed to have lost the power to hold the precious
+burden any longer. "I have walked from Gorlmyn," she explained;
+"and can you tell me where I can be taken in for a night or two.
+I have a little money, and will pay for my lodgings."
+
+The woman drew her lips together and signed to a chair. Presently
+she said in a restrained voice: "That there baby is feverish, and
+my man has had a hard day's work and wants his rest at night, and
+though 'tis true we have a spare room, yet I don't see as we can
+accommodate you. So they let you off--up at Kingston?"
+
+"Yes, I was let off," answered Mehetabel, faintly.
+
+"Hardly reckoned on it, I s'pose. Most folks sed as you'd swing
+for it. You mustn't try on them games again, or you won't be so
+lucky next time. The carpenter, Puttenham, has a bed at liberty,
+but whether he'll take you in I don't know."
+
+Mehetabel rose, and went to the cottage of the wheelwright. The
+man himself was in his shop. She applied to his wife.
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Puttenham. "They say you was off your
+head when you did it. How can I tell you're right in your intellecks
+now? You see, 'twould be mighty unpleasant to have anything happen
+to either Puttenham or me, if we crossed you in any way. I don't
+feel inclined to risk it. I mind when owd Sammy Drewitt was daft.
+They did up a sort of a black hole, and stuck he in, and fed him
+through a kind of a winder in the side, and they had the place
+cleaned out once a month, and fresh straw littered for him to lie
+on. Folk sed he ort to ha' been chained to the wall, but they
+didn't do that. He never managed to break through the door. They
+found him dead there one winter mornin' when the Hammer Ponds was
+froze almost a solid block. I reckon there's been nobody in that
+place since. The constable might send a man, and scrape it out,
+and accommodate you there. It's terrible dangerous havin' a maniac
+at large. Sammy Drewitt made a won'erful great noise, howlin' when
+the moon was nigh full, and folk as lived near couldn't sleep then.
+But he never knocked nobody on the head, as I've heard tell. I don't
+mind givin' you a cup o' tea, and some bread and butter, if you'll
+be quiet, and not break out and be uproarious. If you don't fancy
+the lock-up, there is a pound for strayed cattle. I reckon of that
+Mister Colpus keeps the key--that is if it be locked, but mostly
+it be open. But then there's no roof to that."
+
+Mehetabel declined the refreshment offered her so ungraciously,
+and went to the cottage of Mrs. Caesar, the mother of Julia who
+had been dismissed from the service of Mr. Colpus.
+
+Of her she made the same request as of the two last.
+
+"I call that pretty much like cheek, I do," replied Mrs. Caesar.
+"Didn't you go and try to get into Colpus's, and oust my daughter?"
+
+"Indeed, indeed, I did not."
+
+"Indeed, you did. I heard all about it, as how you wanted to be
+took in at Colpus's when Julia was out."
+
+"But Mrs. Caesar, that isn't ousting her. Julia was already
+dismissed!"
+
+"Dismissed! Hoity-toity! My daughter gave notice because she was
+too put upon by them Colpuses. They didn't consider their servants,
+and give 'em enough to eat, and holidays when they wanted to go
+out with their sweethearts. And you had the face to ax to be taken
+there. No, I've no room for you;" and she shut the door of the
+house in Mehetabel's face.
+
+The unhappy girl staggered away with her burden, and sank into a
+hedge. The evening was drawing on, and she must find a house to
+shelter her, or else seek out the cave where she had lodged before.
+
+Then she recalled what Joe Filmer had said--that Iver had returned
+to the Ship. A light flashed through her soul at the thought.
+
+Iver would care for her. He who had been her earliest and dearest
+friend; he, who through all his years of absence, had cherished
+the thought of her; he who had told her that the Ship was no home
+to him without her in it; that he valued Thursley only because
+she lived there; he who had clasped her with his arm, called her
+his own and only one; to him--to him--at last, without guilt,
+without scruples; she could fly to him and say, "Iver, I am driven
+from door to door; no one will receive me. Every one is suspicious
+of me, thinks evil of me. But you--yourself, who have known me
+from infancy--you who baptized me to save me from becoming a
+wanderer--see, a wanderer, homeless, with my poor babe, I come
+to you--do you provide that I may be housed and sheltered. I ask
+not for myself so much as for my little one! To Iver--to Iver--as
+my one refuge, my only hope!"
+
+Then it was as though her heart were light, and her heels winged.
+She sprang up from where she had cast herself, and forgetful of
+her weariness, ran, and stayed not till she had reached the familiar
+porch of the dear old Ship.
+
+And already through the bar window a light shone. The night had
+not set in, yet a light was shining forth, a ray of gold, to
+welcome the wanderer, to draw her in, with promise of comfort
+and of rest.
+
+And there--there in the porch door stood Iver.
+
+"What! Mehetabel! come here--here--after all! Come in at once.
+Welcome! A word together we must have! My little Mehetabel! Welcome!
+Welcome!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+MOVE ON.
+
+
+"Come in, little friend! dear Matabel! come into the kitchen, by
+the fire, and let us have a talk." His voice was cheery, his
+greeting hearty, his manner frank.
+
+He drew her along the passage, and brought her into the little
+kitchen in which that declaration had taken place, the very last
+time she had been within the doors of the inn, and he seated her
+in the settle, the very place she had occupied when he poured out
+his heart to her.
+
+Mehetabel could not speak. Her bosom was too full. Tears sparkled
+in her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. The glow of the peat and wood
+fire was on her face, and gave to it a color it did not in reality
+possess. She tried to say something, but her voice gave way. Half
+laughing in the midst of tears she stammered, "You are good to me,
+Iver."
+
+He took the stool and drew it before the fire that he might look
+up into her agitated face.
+
+"How have you come?" asked he.
+
+"I walked."
+
+"Where from--not Kingston?"
+
+"Oh, no! only from Gorlmyn."
+
+"But that is a long way. And did you carry the child?"
+
+"Yes, Iver! But, oh! he is no weight. You have not seen him. Look
+at him. He is quiet now, but he has been very troublesome; not
+that he could help it, but he has been unwell." With the pride and
+love of a mother she unfolded the wraps that concealed her sleeping
+child, and laid it on her knees. The dancing light fell over it.
+
+Iver drew his stool near, and looked at the infant.
+
+"I am no judge of babies," he said, "but--it is very small."
+
+"It is small, that is why I can carry him. The best goods are
+wrapped in the smallest parcels."
+
+"The child looks very delicate--ill, I should say."
+
+"Oh, no! it has been ill, but is much, much better now. How could
+even a strong child stand all that my precious one has had to go
+through without suffering? But that is over now. Now at length we
+shall have rest and happiness, baby and me, in each other." Then
+catching the child to her heart, she rocked herself, and with
+tears of love flowing, sang--
+
+  "Thou art my sceptre, crown and all."
+
+She laid the child again on her lap and sat looking at it admiringly
+in the rosy light of the fire that suffused it. As the flames had
+given to her cheek a fictitious color, so did they now give to the
+infant a glow as of health that it did not actually possess.
+
+"You must be tired," said Iver.
+
+"I am tired; see how my limbs shake. That is why my baby trembles;
+but as for my arms, they are past tiredness, they are just one
+dead ache from the shoulder to the wrist."
+
+"Are you hungry, Matabel?"
+
+"Oh, no! All I want is rest, rest. I am weary."
+
+Presently she asked, "Where is father?"
+
+"He is away. Gone to the Dye House to see a cow that is bad. They
+sent for him, to have his opinion. Father is thought a great
+authority on cows."
+
+"And Polly?"
+
+"Oh! Polly," laughed Iver, "she's bundled off. Father has borne it
+like a philosopher. I believe in his heart he is rather pleased
+that I should have turned her neck and crop off the premises. It
+was high time. She had mastered the old man, and could make him
+do what she pleased."
+
+"Whom have you got in her place?"
+
+"Julia Caesar. She was sent away from the Colpuses for drawing the
+beer too freely. Well, here she can draw it whenever there are men
+who ask for drink, so she will be in her proper element. But she
+is only a stop gap. I engaged her because there really was for the
+moment no one else available, but she goes as soon as we can find
+a better."
+
+"Will you take me?" asked Mehetabel, with a smile, and with some
+confidence that she would be gladly accepted.
+
+"We shall see--there is another place for you, Matabel," said Iver.
+"Now let us talk of something else. Was it not a piece of rare good
+luck that I was stuck on the jury? Do you know, I believe all would
+have gone wrong but for me. I put my foot down and said, 'Not
+guilty,' and would not budge. The rest were almost all inclined to
+give against you, Matabel, but there was a fellow with a wist in
+his stupid noddle against capital punishment. He was just as
+resolute as I was, and between us, we worked the rest round to
+our way of thinking. But I should like to know the truth about it
+all, for it is marvellous to me."
+
+"There is nothing for me to say, Iver," answered Matabel, "but
+that some words I uttered made Jonas spring back, and neither
+he nor I knew that there was a kiln behind, it was so overgrown
+with brambles, and he fell down that."
+
+"And you laughed."
+
+"Oh, Iver! I don't know what I did. I was so frightened, and my
+head was so much in a whirl that I remember nothing more. You do
+not really think that I laughed."
+
+"They all said you did."
+
+"Iver, you know me too well to believe that I was other than
+frightened out of my wits. There are times when a laugh comes
+because the tears will not break out--it is a gasp of pain, of
+horror, nothing more. I remember, at my confirmation, when the
+Bishop laid his hands on us, that the girl beside me laughed; but
+it was only that she was feeling more than she could give token
+of any other way."
+
+"That's like enough," said Iver, and taking the poker he put the
+turf together to make it blaze; "I say, Matabel, they tell me that
+Jonas was a bad loser by the smash of the Wealden Bank, and that
+he was about to mortgage his little place. Of course, that is
+yours now--or belongs to the young shaver. There are a hundred
+pounds my mother left, and fifty given by my father, that I hold,
+and I don't mind doing anything in reason with it to prevent
+having the property get into the lawyer's hands. I wouldn't do
+it for Jonas; but I will for you or the shaver. Shall you manage
+the farm yourself? If I were you I would get Joe Filmer to do that.
+He's a good chap, honest as daylight, and worships you."
+
+"I don't know or think anything about that," said Mehetabel.
+
+"But you must do so. The Rocliffes have invaded the place, so my
+father says. They took possession directly Jonas was dead, and
+they are treating the farm as if it were their own. You are going
+to the Punch-Bowl at once, and I will assert your rights."
+
+"I am not going to the Punch-Bowl again," said Mehetabel, decisively.
+
+"You must. You have no other home."
+
+"That can be no home to me."
+
+"But--where are you going to live?"
+
+"I ask--" she looked at Iver with something of entreaty in her
+eyes--"May I not come and be servant here? I will do my duty, you
+need not doubt that."
+
+"I have no doubt about that," he answered. "But--but--" he hesitated,
+and probed the fire again, "you see, Matabel, it wouldn't do."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, there are three or four reasons."
+
+She looked steadily at him, awaiting more.
+
+"In the first place," he said, with a little confusion, "there has
+been much chatter about me being on the jury, and some folk say
+that but for me you'd have been found guilty, and--" He did not
+complete the sentence. He had knocked a burning turf down on the
+hearth. He took the tongs, picked it up and replaced it. "I won't
+say there is not some truth in that. But that is not all, Matabel.
+I'm going to give up Guildford and live here."
+
+"You are!" Her eyes brightened.
+
+"Yes, at the Ship. For one thing, I am sick of giving lessons to
+noodles. More than half of those who take lessons are as incapable
+of making any progress as a common duck is of soaring to the
+clouds. It's drudgery giving lessons to such persons. The only
+pictures they turn out that are fit to be looked at are such as
+the master has drawn and corrected and finished off for them. I'll
+have no more of that."
+
+"I am glad, Iver. Then you will be with the dear old father."
+
+"Yes. He wants some one here to keep an eye on him. But, just
+because I shall be here, it is not possible for you to be in the
+house. There has been too much talk, you know, about us. And this
+matter of my being on the jury has made the talk more loud and
+unpleasant for me. I shall have to be on my P's and Q's, Mattie;
+and I doubt if I am acting judiciously for myself in bringing you
+into the house now. However, it is only for an hour, and the maid
+Julia is out, and father is at the Dye House, and no one was in
+the road; so I thought I might risk it. But, of course, you can't
+remain. You must go."
+
+"I must go! What, now?"
+
+"I won't hurry you for another ten minutes, but under the
+circumstances I cannot allow you to remain. There is more behind,
+Matabel. I have got engaged to Polly Colpus!"
+
+"Engaged--to Polly Colpus?"
+
+"Yes. You see she is the only child of James Colpus, and will have
+his land, which adjoins ours, and several thousand pounds as well.
+Her mother left her something, and her father has been a saving
+man; so I could not do better for myself. I have got tired of
+teaching imbeciles to draw and daub. You see, I knew nothing about
+a farm, but father will manage that, and when he is too infirm and
+old, then Mr. Colpus will work it along with his own, and save me
+the trouble. Polly is clever and manages very well, and I can trust
+her to govern the Ship and make money out of that. So my idea is to
+be here when I like, and when tired of being in the country, to go
+to London and sell my pictures, or amuse myself. With the farm and
+the inn I shall be free to do that without the worry of giving
+lessons. So you understand that not only must I avoid any scandal
+among the neighbors by harboring you here, but I must not make
+Polly Colpus jealous; and she might become that, and break off
+the engagement were you taken into the house. She is a good girl,
+and amiable, but might become suspicious. There are so many
+busybodies in a little place, and the smaller the place is the
+more meddlesome people are. It would not do for my engagement to
+be broken through any such an injudicious act on my part, and I
+should never forgive myself for having given occasion for the
+rupture. Consequently, as is plain as a pike-staff, we cannot
+possibly take you into the Ship. Not even for to-night. As for
+receiving you as a servant here, that is out of the question. There
+is really no place for you but the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"I will not go back to the Punch-Bowl," said Mehetabel, her heart
+sinking.
+
+"That is unreasonable. It is your natural home."
+
+"I will not go back. I said so when I ran away. Nothing will induce
+me to return."
+
+"Then I wash my hands of all concerning you," said Iver, irritably.
+"There really seems to be ill-luck attending you, and affecting all
+with whom you are brought in touch. Your husband--he is dead, and
+now you try to jeopardize my fortunes. 'Pon my word, Matabel," he
+stood up. "It cannot be. We are willing enough to take in most
+people here, but under the circumstances cannot receive you."
+
+"The door," said the girl, also rising, "the door was open at one
+time to all but to you. Now it is open to all but to me."
+
+"You must be reasonable, Matabel. I wish you every good in the
+world. You can't do better than take Joe Filmer and make yourself
+happy. Every one in this world must look first to himself; then to
+the things of others It is a law of Nature and we can't alter it."
+
+Leisurely with sunk head on her bosom, Metabel moved to the door.
+
+"If I can assist you with money," suggested Iven
+
+She shook her head she could not speak.
+
+"Or if you want any food--"
+
+She shook her head again.
+
+But at the door she stood, leaned against the jamb turned, and
+looked steadily at Iver.
+
+"You are going to the Punch-Bowl?" he asked.
+
+"No, I will not go there!"
+
+"Then, where do you go?"
+
+"I do not know, Iver--you baptized me lest I should become a
+wanderer, and now you cast me out, me and my baby to become
+wanderers indeed."
+
+"I cannot help myself, dear Matabel. It is a law of Nature, like
+that of the Medes and Persians, unalterable."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THOR'S STONE AGAIN.
+
+
+Stunned with the sense that her last hope was taken from her, the
+cable of her one anchor cut, Mehetabel left the Ship Inn, and
+turned from the village. It would be in vain for her to seek
+hospitality there. Nothing was open to her save the village pound
+and the cell in which the crazy man, Sammy Drewitt, had perished
+of cold. There was the cave in which she had found refuge the night
+before the death of Jonas. She took her way to that again, over
+the heath.
+
+There was light in the sky, and a star was shining in the west,
+above where the sun had set.
+
+How still her baby was in her arms! Mehetabel unfolded the shawl,
+and looked at the pinched white face in the silvery light from the
+sky. The infant seemed hardly to breathe. She leaned her cheek
+against the tiny mouth, and the warm breath played over it. Then
+the child uttered a sob, drew a long inspiration, and continued
+its sleep. The fresh air on the face had induced that deep,
+convulsive inhalation.
+
+Mehetabel again covered the child's face, and walked on to the
+gully made by the ancient iron-workers, and descended into it.
+
+But great was her disappointment to find that the place of refuge
+was destroyed. Attention had been drawn to it by the evidence of
+Giles Cheel and Sally Rocliffe. The village youths had visited it,
+and had amused themselves with dislodging the great capstone, and
+breaking down the sandstone walls. No shelter was now obtainable
+there for the homeless: it would no more become a playing place
+for the little children of the Dame's school.
+
+She stood looking dreamily at the ruin. Even that last place of
+refuge was denied her, had been taken from her in wantonness.
+
+Leisurely she retraced her steps; she saw again the light in the
+window of the Ship, and the open door. She, however, turned away--the
+welcome was not for her--and entered the village. Few were about,
+and such as saw her allowed her to pass without a salutation.
+
+She staggered up some broken steps into the churchyard, and crossed
+it, towards the church. No friendly light twinkled through the
+window, giving evidence of life, occupation, within. The door was
+shut and locked. She seated herself wearily in the porch. The great
+building was like an empty husk, from which the spirit was passed,
+and it was kept fast barred lest its emptiness should be revealed
+to all. The stones under her feet struck a chill through her, the
+wall against which she leaned her back froze her marrow, the bench
+on which she sat was cold as well. Why had she come to the porch?
+She hardly knew. The period at which Mehetabel lived was not one
+in which the Church was loved as a mother, nestled into for rest
+and consolation. She performed her duties in a cold, perfunctory
+manner, and the late Vicar had, though an earnest man, taught
+nothing save what concerned the geography of Palestine, and the
+weights and measures of Scripture--enough to interest the mind,
+nothing to engage the heart, to fill and stablish the soul.
+
+And now, as Mehetabel sat in the cold porch by the barred door,
+looking out into the evening sky, she extended, opened, and closed
+her right hand, as though trying to grasp, to cling to something,
+in her desolation and friendlessness, and could find nothing. Again
+a horror came over her, because her child lay so still. Again she
+looked at it, and assured herself that it lived--but the life
+seemed to be one of sleep, a prelude to the long last sleep.
+
+She wiped her brow. Cold drops stood on it, as she struggled with
+this thought. Why was the child so quiet now, after having been so
+restless? Was it that it was really better? Was this sleep the
+rest of exhausted nature, recovering itself, or was it--was it--she
+dared not formulate the thought, complete the question.
+
+Again, in the anguish of her mind, in her craving for help in this
+hour of despondency, she put forth her hand in the air gropingly,
+and clutched nothing. She fully opened her palm, extended it level
+before her, and then, wearily let it fall.
+
+From where she sat she could not see even the star that had
+glimmered on her as she crossed the common.
+
+She heard the crackling of the gravel of the path under a foot,
+and a figure passed the porch door, then came back, and stood
+looking at her.
+
+She recognized the sexton.
+
+"Who are you there?" he asked.
+
+She answered him.
+
+"Do you want to see where Jonas is laid? Come along with me, and
+I'll show you."
+
+She shrank back.
+
+"He's where the Kinks all are. You must look and see that it is
+all right. I haven't been paid my fee. Them Rocliffes buttoned up
+their pockets. They sed it was for you to pay. But I hear they
+have put their hands on the property. They thought you would be
+hanged, but as you ain't they'll have to turn out, and you'll have
+to pay me for buryin' of Jonas, I reckon."
+
+The old fellow was much bowed, and hard of hearing. He came into
+the porch, laid hold of Mehetabel, and said, "I'm goin to lock
+the gate. You must turn out; I can't let you bide in the churchyard
+till you come to bide there forever. Be that your baby in your
+arms?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Linegar, it is."
+
+"It don't make much noise. Ain't a very lively young Radical."
+
+"Would you like to see my baby?" asked Mehetabel, timidly, and she
+uncovered the sleeping child.
+
+The sexton bowed over the little face, and straightening himself
+as much as he could, said, "It seems not unlike as that the child
+be comin' to me."
+
+"What do you mean?" Her heart stood still.
+
+"If you hadn't showed it me as alive, I'd ha' sed it were dead, or
+dyin'. Well, come and tell me where it's to be laid. Shall it go
+beside Jonas?"
+
+"Mister Linegar!" Mehetabel stood still trembling. "Why do you
+say that? My babe is well. He is sleeping very sound."
+
+"He looks won'erful white."
+
+"That's because of the twilight. You fancy he is white. He has
+the most beautiful little color in his lips and cheeks, just like
+the crimson on a daisy."
+
+"Well, come along, and choose a place. It'll save comin' again.
+I'll let you see where Jonas lies. And if you want to put up a
+monument, that's half-a-guinea to the passon and half-a-crown to
+me. There, do you see that new grave? I've bound it down wi'
+withies, and laid the turf nice over it. It's fine in the sun,
+and a healthy situation," continued the sexton, pointing to a
+new grave. "This bit of ground is pretty nigh taken up wi' the
+folks of the Punch-Bowl, the Boxalls, and the Nashes, and the
+Snellings, and the Kinks, and the Rocliffes. We let 'em lie to
+themselves when dead, as they kep' to theirselves when livin'.
+Where would you like to lie, you and the baby--you may just as
+well choose now--it may save trouble. I'm gettin' old, and I don't
+go about more than I can help.
+
+"If anything were to happen, Mr. Linegar, then let us be laid--me
+and my darling--on the other side of the church, where my father's
+grave is."
+
+"That's the north side--never gets no sun. I don't reckon it over
+healthy."
+
+"I would rather lie there. If it gets no sun on that side, my
+poor babe and I have been in shade all our lives, and so it fits
+us best to be on the north side."
+
+"Well, there's no accountin for tastes," said the sexton. "But I've
+hear you be a little troubled in the intellecks."
+
+"Is it strange," answered Mehetabel, "that one should wish to be
+laid beside a father--my poor father, who is alone?"
+
+"Come, come," said the old man, "it is time for me to lock up the
+churchyard gate. I only left it open because I had been doing up
+Jonas Kink's grave with withies."
+
+He made Mehetabel precede him down the path, saw her through the
+gate, and then fastened that with a padlock.
+
+"Even the dead have a home--a place of rest," she said. "I have
+none. I am driven from theirs."
+
+It was not true that she had no home, for she had one, and could
+claim it by indefeasible right, the farmhouse of the Kinks in the
+Punch-Bowl. But her heart revolted against a return to the scene
+of the greatest sorrows. Moreover, if, as it was told her, the
+Rocliffes had taken possession, then she could not enter it without
+a contest, and she would have perhaps to forcibly expel them. But
+even if force were not required, she was quite aware that Sally
+Rocliffe would make her position intolerable. She had the means,
+she could enlist the other members of the squatter community on
+her side, and how could she--Mehetabel--maintain herself against
+such a combination? To return to the Punch-Bowl would be to enter
+on ignoble broils, and to run the gauntlet of a whole clique united
+to sting, wound, bruise her to death. How could she carry on the
+necessary business of the farm when obstructed in every way? How
+manage her domestic affairs, without some little assistance from
+outside, which would be refused her?
+
+She entertained no resentment against Iver Verstage for having
+excluded her from the inn, but a sense of humiliation at having
+ventured to seek his help unsolicited. Surely she had an excuse.
+He had always been to her the one to whom her thoughts turned in
+confidence and in hope. It was in him and through him that all
+happiness was to be found. He had professed the sincerest attachment
+to her. He had sought her out at the Punch-Bowl, when she shrank
+from him; and had she not been sacrificed--her whole life blighted
+for his sake? Surely, if he thought anything of her, if he had
+any spark of affection lingering in his heart for her, any care
+for her future, he would never leave her thus desolate, friendless,
+houseless!
+
+She wandered from the churchyard gate, aimless, and before she was
+aware whither she was going, found herself in the confines of
+Pudmoor. How life turns in circles! Before, when she had run from
+the Ship, self-excluded, she had hasted to Pudmoor. Now, again,
+excluded, but by Iver, she turned instinctively to Pudmoor. Once
+before she had run to Thor's Stone, and now, when she found help
+nowhere else, she again took the same direction. She had asked
+assistance once before at the anvil, she would ask it there again.
+Before she had asked to be freed from Iver. She had no need to ask
+that now, he had freed himself from her. She would seek of the
+spirits, what was denied her by her fellow-men, a home where she
+might rest along with her baby.
+
+The first time she had sought Thor's Stone she had been alone, with
+herself only to care for, though indeed for herself she had cared
+nothing. Now, on this second occasion, she was burdened with the
+child infinitely precious to her heart, and for the sake of which
+even a stumble must be avoided. The first time she had been fresh,
+in the full vigor of her strength. Now she was worn out with a
+long tramp, and all the elasticity gone out of her, all the strength
+of soul and body broken.
+
+Slowly, painfully she crept along, making sure of every step. The
+full moon did not now turn the waters into gold, but the illumined
+twilight sky was mirrored below--as steel.
+
+She feared lest her knees should fail, and she should fall. She
+dared not seat herself on a ridge of sand lest she should lack
+power to rise again. When she came to a crabbed fir she leaned
+against it and stooped to kiss her babe.
+
+"Oh, my golden darling! My honeycomb! How cold you are! Cling
+closer to your mother's breast. She would gladly pour all the
+warmth out of her heart into your little veins."
+
+Then on again, amidst the trilling of the natterjacks and the
+croaking of the frogs. Because of their noise she could not hear
+the faint breath of her infant. Although she walked slowly, she
+panted, and through panting could not distinguish the pulsation of
+the little one she bore from the bounding of her own veins. At last
+she saw, gleaming before her--Thor's Stone, and she hasted her
+steps to reach it.
+
+Then she remembered that she was without a hammer. That mattered
+not. She would strike on the anvil with her fingers. The
+spirits--whatever they were--the good people--the country folk
+called them, would hear that. She reached the stone, and sank
+exhausted below it She was too weary to do more than lie, with
+her child in her lap, and hold up her face bathed in sweat, for
+the cool evening wind to wipe it, and at the same time feed with
+fresh breath her exhausted lungs.
+
+Then looking up, she saw the little star again, the only one in
+the light-suffused heavens, but it twinkled faintly, with a feeble
+glitter, feeble as the frail life of the child on her lap.
+
+And now a strange thing occurred.
+
+As she looked aloft suddenly the vault was pervaded with a rosy
+illumination, like the flushing of a coming dawn, and through this
+haze of rosy light, infinitely remote, still flickered the tiny
+spark of the star.
+
+What was this? Merely some highly uplifted vapor that caught the
+sun after it had long ceased to shine on the landscape.
+
+There were even threads of amber traced in this remote and
+attenuated glory--and, lo--in that wondrous halo, the little star
+was eclipsed.
+
+Suddenly--with an unaccountable thrill of fear, Mehetabel bent
+over her babe--and uttered a cry that rang over the Mere.
+
+The hand she had laid on Thor's Stone to tap struck it not. She
+had nothing to ask; no wish to express. The one object for which
+she lived was gone from her.
+
+The babe was dead in her lap.
+
+Her hand fell from the stone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+THE ROSE-CLOUD.
+
+
+Joe Filmer, driving old Clutch, drew up at the door of the Ship
+Inn. Iver Verstage came out and welcomed him.
+
+"I've had a trouble with Clutch," said the ostler. "He lay down as
+we got out of Gorlmyn, and neither whip nor kicks 'ud make him
+stir. I tried ticklin', but t'wern't no good neither. How long
+this 'ud have gone on I dun know; I took him out o' th' shafts, and
+got him back to Gorlmyn, because some men helped me wi' him, and
+pulled at his tail, and twisted his carcass about till his nose
+pointed to the stable of the Angel. Then he condescended to get up
+and go to the inn. I shouldn't ha' got him away at all but that a
+notion came into my head as helped. I got the ostler to saddle
+and bride the gray mare, and mount her afore old Clutch's naked
+eyes. And I told the ostler to ride ahead a little way. Then, my
+word! what airs and jinks there were in Clutch; he gambolled and
+trotted like a colt. It was all a show-off afore the gray mare.
+The ostler--I knew him very well, he's called Tom Tansom, and it's
+a coorious thing now, he only cut his wise teeth about three months
+afore, and suffered won'erful in cutting 'em. But that's neither
+here nor there. Tom Tansom, he rode ahead, and old Clutch went
+after as if he were runnin' with the hounds. But I must tell you,
+whilst I was in Gorlmyn, that Widow Chivers came with the carrier,
+and as she was wantin' a lift, I just took her up and brought her
+on. She's been ter'ible bad, she tells me, with a cold, but she's
+better now--got some new kind o' lozenges, very greatly recommended.
+There's a paper given along wi' 'em with printed letters from all
+sorts o' people as has benefited by these lozenges. They're a
+shillin' and a ha'penny a box. Betty sez they've done her a power
+of good."
+
+"Go on with your account of old Clutch. You're almost as bad as he
+with your stoppages."
+
+"I'm tellin' right along. Well, the ostler he trotted on till he
+came to a turn in the road, and then he went down a lane out o'
+sight. But old Clutch have been racin' on all the way, thinkin'
+the mare had got a distance ahead. I'd a mighty difficulty to make
+him stop at the corner to set down Betty Chivers, and again here.
+Though he's roarin' like the roarin' of the sea, he wants to be on
+again and ketch up the gray mare. It's a pleasure that I've dun
+the old vagabond. Has Matabel been here?"
+
+"Yes, she has; and has gone."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Of course, home, to the Bowl."
+
+"Not she. She's got that screwed into her head tight as a nut, that
+she'll never go there again. There was the sexton at the corner,
+and he helped Betty with her bag, he said he turned Matabel out of
+the church porch."
+
+"Then she may be in the churchyard."
+
+"Oh, no, he turned her out of the churchyard, and the last he seed
+of her was goin' down to the Pudmoor. If she's queer in her head,
+or driven distracted wi' trouble--she oughtn't to be allowed to go
+there."
+
+"Gone to Pudmoor!" exclaimed Iver. "I shouldn't wonder if she has
+sought Thor's Stone. She did that once before."
+
+"I'll clap old Clutch in the stable, then go and look for her. Will
+you come, Mr. Iver?"
+
+"Well--yes--but she cannot be received in here."
+
+"No, there is no need. Betty Chivers will take her in as before.
+Betty expects her. I told her as we comed along that Matabel were
+before us, and we almost expected every minute to take her up.
+Though how we should ha' managed three in the trap I don't know,
+and Clutch would have been in an outrageous temper. Do you hear
+him snortin' there? That's because he's angry--the Radical!"
+
+Beside Thor's Stone Iver and Joe Filmer found Mehetabel rocking her
+child, she had bared her bosom and held the little corpse against
+her palpitating heart, in the desperate hope of communicating to
+it some of her own heat; and if love could have given life the baby
+would have revived.
+
+Again, as when her husband died, her brain was for a while unhinged,
+but she had the same kind and suitable nurse, the widow, Betty
+Chivers.
+
+And now this story is all but done. Little more remains to be told.
+
+Never again did Mehetabel return to the Punch-Bowl--never revisit
+it. The little property was sold, and after the debts of Jonas were
+paid, what remained went for her sustenance, as well as the money
+bequeathed by Susanna Verstage and that laid aside by Simon.
+
+Years passed. Betty Chivers was gathered to the dust and in her
+place Mehetabel kept the Dame's school. It was thought that Joe
+Filmer had his eye on her, and on more than one occasion he dressed
+himself in his Sunday best and walked towards the school, but his
+courage ebbed away before he reached it, and he never said that
+which he had resolved to say.
+
+On the north side of the church, near the monument of the murdered
+sailor, was a tiny mound, ever adorned with flowers, or when
+flowers were unattainable, with sprigs of holly and butcher's broom
+set with scarlet berries. At the beginning of the present century
+the decoration of a grave was rarely if ever practised. It was
+looked on as so strange in Mehetabel, and it served to foster the
+notion that she was not quite right in her head.
+
+But in nothing else did the village schoolmistress show strangeness:
+in school and out of school she was beloved by her children, and
+their love was returned by her.
+
+We live in a new age--one removed from that of Dame schools. A few
+years has transformed the system of education in the land.
+
+In one of the voyages of Lemuel Gulliver, he reached the island of
+Lagado, where the system of construction adopted by the natives in
+the erection of an edifice was to begin at the top, the apex of a
+spire or roof, and to build downwards, laying the foundations last
+of all, or leaving them out altogether.
+
+This is precisely the system of primary education adopted in our
+land, and if rent and ruin result, it is possibly due to the method
+being an injudicious one.
+
+The face of Mehetabel acquired a sweetness and repose that were new
+to it, and were superadded to her natural beauty. And she was happy,
+happy in the children she taught, happy in the method she pursued,
+and happy in the results.
+
+Often did she recall that visit to Thor's Stone on the night when
+her child died, and she remembered her look up into the evening
+sky. "I thought all light was gone from me, when my star, my little
+feeble star, was eclipsed, but instead there spread over the sky a
+great shining, glorious canopy of rosy light, and it is so,"--she
+looked after her dispersing school--"my light and life and joy
+are there."
+
+The Vicar came up.
+
+There had been a great change in the ecclesiastical arrangements of
+Thursley. It was no longer served occasionally and fitfully from
+the mother church. It had a parson of its own. Moreover a change
+had been effected in the church. It was no longer as a house left
+desolate.
+
+"I have been thinking, Mrs. Kink," said the Vicar, "that I should
+much like to know your system of education. I hear from all quarters
+such good accounts of your children."
+
+"System, sir!" she answered blushing, "oh, I have none."
+
+"None, Mrs. Kink?"
+
+"I mean," she answered, "I teach just what every child ought to
+know, as a matter of course."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"To love and fear God."
+
+"And next?"
+
+With a timid smile:
+
+"That C A T spells cat, and D O G spells dog."
+
+"And next?"
+
+"That two and two makes four, and three times four makes twelve."
+
+"And next?"
+
+She raised her modest dark eyes to the Vicar, and answered, smiling,
+"Mine is only a school for beginners. I lay the foundations. I do
+not profess to finish."
+
+"You teach no more than these?"
+
+"I lay the foundations on which all the rest can be raised," she
+answered.
+
+"And you are happy?"
+
+She smiled; it was as though the sun shone out of her face.
+
+"Happy! Oh, so happy! I could not be happier." Then, after a pause,
+"Except when I and my own little one are together again, and that
+would be too much happiness for my heart now. But it will be able
+to bear the joy--then."
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+[1] Not really in Hants, but in Surrey, adjoining the County
+demarcation.
+
+[2]This is the beginning of a long ballad based on the incidents
+above mentioned, which is still current in the neighborhood.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30354 ***
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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #30354 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30354)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Broom-Squire, by S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Broom-Squire
+
+
+Author: S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 28, 2009  [eBook #30354]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROOM-SQUIRE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Elaine Laizure from digital material generously made
+available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/broomsquire00baririch
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      Minor typographical errors in the original text have been
+      corrected. Footnotes have been numbered and moved to the
+      end of the file.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOM-SQUIRE
+
+by
+
+S. BARING-GOULD
+
+Author of "Mehalah," "Court Royal," "The Gaverocks,"
+"Noemi," "Eve," Etc., Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York and London
+Frederick A. Stokes Company
+Publishers
+
+Copyright 1895,
+By S. Baring-Gould.
+
+Copyright 1896,
+By Frederick A. Stokes Company.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER                                           PAGE
+
+         I. AT THE SIGN OF THE SHIP                  1
+
+        II. WANDERING SOULS                          8
+
+       III. THE PUNCH-BOWL                          14
+
+        IV. WITHOUT A ROOF                          22
+
+         V. MEHETABEL                               28
+
+        VI. MEHETABEL IT MUST BE                    35
+
+       VII. FALSE PERSPECTIVE                       41
+
+      VIII. ONLY A CHARITY GIRL                     48
+
+        IX. BIDEABOUT                               55
+
+         X. INTO THE NET                            63
+
+        XI. A SURNAME AT LAST                       70
+
+       XII. UNEXPECTED                              77
+
+      XIII. HOME                                    85
+
+       XIV. NOT PARADISE                            92
+
+        XV. IVER                                    98
+
+       XVI. AGAIN IVER                             105
+
+      XVII. DREAMS                                 112
+
+     XVIII. REALITIES                              117
+
+       XIX. BACK AGAIN                             124
+
+        XX. GONE                                   131
+
+       XXI. THOR'S STONE                           137
+
+      XXII. IVER! COME                             144
+
+     XXIII. A SHOT                                 149
+
+      XXIV. THE IRONSTONE HAMMER                   156
+
+       XXV. AN APPARITION                          162
+
+      XXVI. A SECRET                               169
+
+     XXVII. POISON                                 176
+
+    XXVIII. A THREAT                               182
+
+      XXIX. A HERALD OF STRIFE                     189
+
+       XXX. A BEQUEST                              195
+
+      XXXI. SURPRISES                              203
+
+     XXXII. ANOTHER SURPRISE                       208
+
+    XXXIII. MARKHAM                                216
+
+     XXXIV. THE PICTURE                            222
+
+      XXXV. THE ONLY CHANCE                        228
+
+     XXXVI. THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT                   235
+
+    XXXVII. A MENACED LIFE                         243
+
+   XXXVIII. SHUT OUT                               249
+
+     XXXIX. AT THE SILK MILL                       256
+
+        XL. BY THE HAMMER POND                     262
+
+       XLI. WANDERERS                              268
+
+      XLII. THE CAVE                               275
+
+     XLIII. AT COLPUS'S                            282
+
+      XLIV. AGAIN-IRONSTONE                        288
+
+       XLV. IN HOPE                                294
+
+      XLVI. A TROUBLED HOPE                        300
+
+     XLVII. BEFORE THE JUDGE                       307
+
+    XLVIII. THE VERDICT                            314
+
+      XLIX. WELCOME                                321
+
+         L. MOVE ON                                327
+
+        LI. THOR'S STONE AGAIN                     334
+
+       LII. THE ROSE-CLOUD                         341
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOM-SQUIRE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+AT THE SIGN OF THE SHIP.
+
+
+On a September evening, before the setting of the sun, a man
+entered the tavern of the Ship in Thursley, with a baby under his
+arm.
+
+The tavern sign, rudely painted, bore, besides a presentment of a
+vessel, the inscription on one side of the board:--
+
+  "Now before the hill you climb,
+   Come and drink good ale and wine."
+
+On the other side of the board the legend was different. It ran
+thus:--
+
+  "Now the hill you're safely over,
+   Drink, your spirits to recover."
+
+The tavern stood on the high-road side between Godalming and
+Portsmouth; that is to say the main artery of communication between
+London and Portsmouth.
+
+After rising out of the rich overshadowed weald land, the road had
+crossed long sandy wastes, where population was sparse, where were
+no enclosures, no farms, only scattered Scottish firs; and in front
+rose the stately ridge of sandstone that culminates in Hind Head
+and Leith Hill. It was to prepare the wayfarer for a scramble to
+the elevation of a little over nine hundred feet that he was
+invited to "drink good ale and wine," or, if he were coming from
+the opposite direction was called upon to congratulate himself in
+a similar manner on having over-passed this ridge. The wayfarer
+with the baby under his arm came from the Godalming side. He looked
+up at the sign, which appealed at once to his heart, for he was
+obviously a sailor, no less than did the invitation commend itself
+to his condition.
+
+He entered, tumbled the baby on to the tavern table that was
+marked with wet rings from beer cans, and upset a saucer containing
+fly poison, and said, with a sigh of relief--
+
+"There you are! Blowed and all of a lather!"
+
+He pulled out a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief, mopped his face
+and shouted, "Beer!"
+
+"Well, I never!" exclaimed the landlady. "Whoever heered afore or
+saw of a babby lugged about wrong side uppermost. What would you
+say if I was to bring you your tankard topsy-turvy?"
+
+"I wouldn't pay for it," said the sailor.
+
+"'Cos why?" asked the woman, planting herself arms akimbo, in front
+of the wayfarer.
+
+"'Cos it 'ud capsize the ale," he answered.
+
+"Very well, ain't babbies got no in'ards to capsize?" asked the
+landlady, defiantly. "And chucked in among the pison for killing
+them dratted flies, too!"
+
+"Never mind about the kid," said the man.
+
+"I do mind about the child," retorted the woman; "look at him
+there--the innocent--all in the nasty slops. What'll the mother say
+to the mess and crumple you've made of the clothes?"
+
+The landlady took the infant from the table, on one arm, and
+proceeded to the bar to draw the beer.
+
+Presently she returned, kissing the child and addressing it in
+terms of affection. She thrust the pewter full of foaming ale on
+the table towards the customer, with resentfulness in her action.
+
+"He's a stomachy (sturdy) young chap," she said, patting the babe
+with the now disengaged hand.
+
+"He ain't a he at all," retorted the man. "He's a she."
+
+"A girl, is it!" exclaimed the hostess; "and how came you by the
+precious?"
+
+"Best rights of all," answered the man; "'cos I'm the kid's father."
+
+"Her mother ought to be ashamed of herself letting you haul about
+the poor mite under your arm, just as though she was pertatoes."
+
+"Her mother can't help it," said the man. "She's dead, and left
+me wi' this here child a month or six weeks old, and I've been
+sweating along the way from Lun'non, and she yowlin' enough to
+tear a fellow's nerves to pieces." This said triumphantly; then in
+an apologetic tone, "What does the likes o' me know about holdin'
+babies? I were brought up to seamanship, and not to nussin'. I'd
+joy to see you, missus, set to manage a thirty-pounder. I warrant
+you'd be as clumsy wi' a gun as I be wi' a kid."
+
+"D'r say," responded the landlady, "and where be you a-g'win to
+with this here angel? Takin' her to sea to make a mermaid of her?"
+
+"No, I aren't," said the mariner. "Her mother's dead--in lodgin's
+down by the Katherine docks, and got no relatives and no friends
+there. I'm off to sea again when I've dispodged o' this here
+incumbrance. I'm takin' her down to her mother's sister--that way."
+He indicated the down road with his thumb.
+
+"It's a wonder you ain't made a crook of her backbone, it is,"
+said the woman. "And if you'd gone and crippled she for life, what
+would you think o' that?"
+
+"I didn't carry her like that all the road," answered the sailor.
+"Part ways I slung her over my back."
+
+"Wonder she's alive. Owdatious strong she must be. Come in, my
+cherry beam. I'll give you as good as mother's milk. Three parts
+water and a bit o' shuggar. Little your father thinks o' your
+wants so long as he gets his ale."
+
+"I let her suck my thumb," said the sailor, timidly.
+
+"Much good she got out o' that," retorted the landlady. "Yes,
+yes, my syrup. I'll give you something."
+
+"If you can stop her yowling, I'll thank you."
+
+With a contemptuous look at the father, the hostess withdrew.
+
+Then the sailor planted his elbows on the table, drank a long
+draught of beer, and said, sententiously, "It's an institootion
+is wimin."
+
+"Woman is the joy of our lives," said a lanky, dark-haired man
+at the table.
+
+"'Tain't exactly that," answered the sailor, now first observing
+that there were other men in the room. "'Tis that there's things
+for everything--there's the capstan for hawlin' up the anchor, and
+there's the woman for nussin'. They was ordained to it--not
+men--never, no--not men. Look at my hand." The sailor extended
+his arm across the table. "It's shakin' like a guitar-string when
+a nigger's playing--and all along of that kid's yawls. Wimin
+likes it."
+
+"It's their moosic," said the lanky man.
+
+Then in rushed the landlady with flashing eyes, and holding out
+both palms before her said, "The child's mouth be that purple or
+blue--it's fits."
+
+"It's blackberries," answered the seaman. "They was nice and ripe,
+and plenty of them."
+
+"Blackberries!" almost shrieked the hostess, "and the child not
+six weeks old! You've killed her! It's upset her blessed little
+inside."
+
+"I thought I'd done wrong," said the sailor, timidly, "that's why
+I was a-carryin' of her topsy-turvy. I thought to ha' shooked the
+blackberries out again."
+
+"If that child dies," exclaimed the landlady, solemnly, "then
+where will you go to, you unnat'ral parient?"
+
+"I did it wi' the best intention," apologized the man.
+
+"That's what Betsy Chaffers said when she gave wrong change. Oh
+that heaven should ever a created man. They's terrible monsters."
+
+She disappeared again after the child.
+
+The sailor drank more beer, sighed, wiped his brow, then his
+upper lip, and looked appealingly about him at the men who were
+present. Of these there were four and a half. That is to say, four
+men and a boy. Three of the men were at the table, and of these
+the lanky sallow man was one.
+
+These three men were strange, unpleasant-looking fellows, dressed up
+in scraps of incongruous clothing, semi-nautical, semi-agricultural.
+One was completely enveloped in a great-coat that had belonged to
+a very tall and stout man, and he was short and thin. Another was
+incompletely dressed, for what garments he had on were in rags
+that afforded glimpses between them of tattered lining, of flesh,
+but of no shirt.
+
+The third man had the unmistakable lower jaw and mouth of an
+Irishman.
+
+By the fire sat an individual of a different type. He was a young
+man with heavy brows and a large mouth devoid of lips, set tight
+as a snapped man-trap. He had keen, restless, watchful eyes. His
+hair was sandy, thrust forward over his brow, and hanging low
+behind. On the opposite side of the hearth crouched a boy, a
+timid, delicately formed lad with a large head and full lustrous
+eyes.
+
+"Come from far?" asked one of the ragamuffins at the table.
+
+"Didn't yur hear me say from Lun'non town?" answered the sailor.
+"Lagged that there dratted baby the whole way. I'll have another
+glass of beer."
+
+"And what distance are you going?" asked the lanky man.
+
+"I shall put into the next port for the night, and tomorrow on to
+Portsmouth, and stow away the kid with my wife's sister. Lord! I
+wishes the morrer were well over."
+
+"We're bound for Portsmouth," said the man in tatters. "What say
+you? shall we keep company and relieve you of the kid? If you'll
+pay the shot here and at the other end, and at the other pubs--can't
+say but what we'll ease you."
+
+"It's a bargain," exclaimed the sailor. "By George! I've had
+enough of it from Lun'non here. As to money, look here," he put
+his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out a handful of
+coins, gold, silver and copper together. "There is brass for all.
+Just home, paid off--and find my wife dead--and me saddled with
+the yowling kid. I'm off to sea again. Don't see no sport
+wider-erring here all bebothered with a baby."
+
+"We are very willing to accompany you," said the tattered man, and
+turning to the fellow with sallow face and lantern jaws, he said,
+"What's your opinion, Lonegon?"
+
+"I'm willing, Marshall; what say you, Michael Casey?"
+
+"Begorra--I'm the man to be a wet nuss."
+
+The sailor called for spirits wherewith to treat the men who had
+offered their assistance.
+
+"This is a mighty relief to me," said he. "I don't think I could
+ha' got on by myself."
+
+"You've no expayrience, sir," said Casey. "It's I'm the boy for
+the babbies. Ye must rig up a bottle and fill it with milk, and
+just a whisk of a drop of the craytur to prevent it curdling, and
+then stuff the mouth with a rag--and the darlin'll suck, and suck,
+and be still as the evenin' star as I sees yonder glimmering at
+the window."
+
+"You'll have to start pretty sharp if you want to get on a stage
+before dark," said the man by the fire.
+
+"It's a lone road," threw in the boy shyly.
+
+"What's the odds when we are four of us?" asked the man whose name
+was Lonegon.
+
+"And all of us pertecting the little cherub from ketching cold,"
+threw in Casey.
+
+"We ain't afraid--not we," said the ragged man.
+
+"Not of bogies, at any rate."
+
+"Oh, you need not fear bogies," observed the man at the fire, dryly.
+
+"What is it, then?" asked Michael Casey. "Sure It's not highwaymen?"
+
+The man by the fire warmed his palms, laughed, and said: "It would
+take two to rob you, I guess, one to put the money into your pocket
+and the second to take it out."
+
+"You're right there," answered the Irishman, laughing. "It's my
+pockets be that worn to holes wi' the guineas that have been in
+them, that now they let 'em fall through."
+
+The man by the fire rubbed his palms together and made a remark in
+a low tone--addressed to the boy. Lonegon turned sharply round on
+his seat and cried threateningly, "What's that you're hinting
+agin us? Say it again, and say it aloud, and I'll knock your
+silly, imperdent head off."
+
+"I say it again," said the young man, turning his cunning head
+round, like a jackdaw. "I say that if I were going over Hind Head
+and by the Punch Bowl at night with as much money in my pocket as
+has that seaman there--I'd choose my companions better. You haven't
+heard what I said? I'd choose my companions better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WANDERING SOULS.
+
+
+The long, lean fellow, Lonegon, leaped to his feet, and struck at
+the man by the fire.
+
+The latter was prepared for him. He had snatched a brand from the
+hearth, and without losing the sarcastic laugh on his great mouth,
+presented it sharply in the way of the descending fist, so as to
+catch Lonegon's wrist.
+
+The sparks flew about at the clash, and the man who had received the
+blow uttered a howl of pain, for his wrist was torn by the firewood,
+and his hand burnt by the fire.
+
+With an imprecation and a vow to "do for" "eyes, liver, and lights"
+of the "clodhopper," he rushed at him blindly. With a mocking laugh,
+the man assailed thrust forth a leg, and Lonegon, stumbling across
+it, measured his length on the floor.
+
+The man called Marshall now interfered by snatching the pewter
+tankard from the sailor, and aiming it at the head of him who had
+overthrown his mate.
+
+At the same time the boy, terrified, began to scream. "Mother!
+mother! help! pray! they'll murder Bideabout."
+
+The hostess speedily appeared, set her arms akimbo, planted her
+feet resolutely on the floor, and said, in commanding tones--
+
+"Now then! No fighting on the premises. Stand up, you rascal. What
+have you done with the pewter? Ah, crushed out of all shape and use.
+That's what Molly Luff sed of her new bonnet when she sat down on
+it--Lawk, a biddy! Who'd ha' thought it?"
+
+Lonegon staggered to his feet, and burst into a torrent of
+recrimination against the man whom the boy had called Bideabout.
+
+"I don't care where the rights are, or where be the wrongs. An
+addled egg be nasty eating whether you tackle it one end or 'tother.
+All I sez is--I won't have it. But what I will have is--I'll be
+paid for that there tankard. Who threw it?"
+
+"It was he--yonder, in tatters," said the boy.
+
+"You won't get money out o' me," said Marshall; "my pockets--you may
+turn 'em out and see for yourself--are rich in nothing but holes,
+and there's in them just about as many of they as there are in the
+rose o' a watering can."
+
+"I shall be paid," asserted the hostess. "You three are mates, and
+there'll be money enough among you."
+
+"Look here, mistress," put in the sailor, "I'll stand the damage,
+only don't let us have a row. Bring me another can of ale, and tell
+me what it all comes to. Then we'll be on the move."
+
+"The other fellows may clear off, and the sooner the better," said
+the landlady. "But not you just now, and the baby has dropped off
+into the sweetest of sleeps. 'Twere a sin to wake her."
+
+"I'm going on to the Huts," said the seaman.
+
+"And we're going with him as a guard to the baby," said the Irish
+fellow.
+
+"A blackguard set," threw in Bideabout.
+
+"What about the color so long as it is effective?" asked Casey.
+
+By degrees the anger of Lonegon was allayed, and he seated himself
+growling at the table, and wiped the blood from his torn wrist on
+his sleeve, and drawing forth a dirty and tattered red kerchief,
+bound it round the bruised and wounded joint. The man, Bideabout,
+did not concern himself with the wrath or the anguish of the man.
+He rubbed his hands together, and clapped a palm on each knee, and
+looked into the fire with a smirk on his face, but with an eye on
+the alert lest his adversary should attempt to steal an advantage
+on him.
+
+Nor was he unjustified in being on his guard, judging by the
+malignant glances cast at him by Lonegon.
+
+"Whom may you be?" asked the tattered man.
+
+"I'm Jonas Kink," answered the young fellow at the fire.
+
+"He's Bideabout, the Broom-Squire," explained the landlady. Then
+with a glimmering of a notion that this variation in names might
+prove confusing, she added, "leastways that's what we calls him.
+We don't use the names writ in the Church register here. He's the
+Broom-Squire--and not the sort o' chap for you ragamuffins to
+have dealings with--let me tell you."
+
+"I don't kear what he be," said Lonegon, sullenly, "but dang it,
+I'd like a sup o' ale with your leave," and without further
+ceremony he took the new tankard from the sailor and quaffed off
+half its contents.
+
+The hostess looked from the drinker to the seaman and said, "Are
+you standing tick for they?"
+
+"I'll pay for their drink and they'll help me along the road with
+the baby," said the sailor.
+
+The landlady shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, and asked, "If
+I may be so bold, what's her name?"
+
+"What's whose name?"
+
+"The baby's."
+
+"Ha'n't got none," said the seaman.
+
+"What, ain't she been christened yet?"
+
+"No, I reckon not," answered the father. Then he proceeded to
+explain. "You see my poor wife she was down in lodgings and
+hadn't no friends nor relations no'ther nigh her, and she took
+ill and never got over the birth of this here babe, and so it
+couldn't be done. But the kid's aunt'll see to all that right
+enough when I've got her there."
+
+"What! you're trapsing about the country hugging a babe along
+under your arm and slung over your shoulder and feeding her o'
+blackberries and chucking her in among fly poison, and not a
+Christian yet! My! What a world it is!".
+
+"All in good time, missus."
+
+"That's what Betsy Cole said o' her pork and 'ams when the pig
+wor killed and her hadn't salt nor saltpetre. She'd see to it
+some day. Meanwhile the maggots came and spiled the lot."
+
+"It shall all be made right in a day or two."
+
+"Ah! but what if it be too late? Then where will you go to some
+day? How can you say but that the child wi' being hung topsy-turvy
+and swinging like a pendiddlum may die of the apoplexy, or the
+blackberries turn sour in her blessed stomach and she go off in
+convulsions, or that she may ha' put out the end o' her tongue
+and sucked some o' that there fly paper? Then where will you be?"
+
+"I hope I shall be on board ship just before that comes to pass,"
+said the sailor.
+
+"Do you know what happens if a child dies and ha'n't been
+christened? It becomes a wanderer."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"It ain't a Christian, so it can't go to heaven. It ain't done
+no evil, so it can't go to hell; and so the poor spirit wanders
+about in the wind and never has no rest. You can hear them piping
+in the trees and sobbin' at the winder. I've heard 'm scores of
+times. How will you like that when at sea to have your own child
+sighing and sobbin' up in the rigging of the vessel, eh?"
+
+"I hope it will not come to that," said the sailor.
+
+"That's what Susan Bay said when she put a darnin' needle into
+the armchair cushion, and I sed, said I, 'twas a ticklesome thing
+and might do hurt. She did it once too often. Her old man sat
+down on it."
+
+She brought some more ale at the request of the seaman, and as
+she set down the tankard said:
+
+"I won't be so bold as to say it's in Scriptur', but it's in
+the Psalm-book I dare swear. Mother, she were a tip-top tearin'
+religious woman, and she used to say it to me when I was younger
+than I be now:--
+
+  "'They flies in clouds and flap their shrouds
+     When full the moon doth shine;
+    In dead of night when lacketh light,
+     We here 'em pipe and pine.
+
+  "'And many a soul wi' hoot and howl
+     Do rattle at the door,
+    Or rave and rout, and dance about
+     All on a barren moor.'
+
+"And it goes on somehow like this. You can think on it as you go
+over Hind Head in the dark:
+
+  "'Or at the winder wail and weep,
+     Yet never venture nigher;
+    In snow and sleet, within to creep
+     To warm 'em at the fire.'"
+
+The child began to cry in the adjoining room.
+
+"There," said the landlady, "'tis awake she is, poor mite without
+a name, and not as much Christianity as could make a cat sneeze.
+If that there child were to die afore you got to Portsmouth and
+had her baptized, sure as my name is Susanna Verstage, I'd never
+forgive myself, and I'd hear her for sure and certainty at the
+winder. I'm a motherly sort of a woman, and there's a lot o' them
+poor wanderers comes piping about the panes of an evening. But I
+can do nothing for them."
+
+"Now then, lads, let's be moving," said the mariner.
+
+The three men at the table rose; and when standing exposed more of
+their raggedness and the incongruity of their apparel than was
+shown when they were seated.
+
+The landlady reluctantly surrendered the child.
+
+"A babe," said she, "mustn't be shaken after feeding;" then, "a
+babe mustn't be allowed to get its little feet cold, or gripes
+comes;" then, "you must mind and carry it with the head to your
+shoulder, and away from the wind." Presently another item occurred
+to the good woman, as the men left their places at the table: "You
+must hold the child on your arm, between the wrist and the
+elbow-jint."
+
+As they went to the door she called, "And never be without a drop
+o' dill water: it's comforting to babies."
+
+As they made their exit--"And when nussin', mind, no green meat
+nor fruit."
+
+When all had departed the landlady turned to the man by the fire,
+who still wore his sarcastic smirk, and said "Bideabout! What do
+you think of they?"
+
+"I think," answered the Broom-Squire, "that I never saw three
+such cut-throat rascals as those who have gone off with the sailor;
+and as for him--I take he's softish."
+
+"I thought him a bit of a natural."
+
+"He must be so to start on one of the lonesomest roads in England,
+at fall of night, with such a parcel of jailbirds."
+
+"Well, dear life!" exclaimed the good woman. "I hope nothing will
+hap' to the poor child."
+
+"Mother," said the boy, timidly, "it's not true is it about the
+spirits of babies in the wind?"
+
+"Of course it is. Where would you have them go? and they bain't
+Christians. Hark! I won't say there be none flying about now. I
+fancy I hear a sort of a kind o' whistling."
+
+"Your boy Iver, he's coming with me to the Punch-Bowl," said the
+Broom-Squire; "but I'll not go for half-an-hour, becos I don't
+want to overtake that lanky, black-jawed chap as they call Lonegon.
+He ain't got much love for me, and might try to repay that blow on
+his wrist, and sprawl on the floor I gave him."
+
+"What is Iver going to the Punch-Bowl for?" asked the landlady,
+and looked at the boy, her son.
+
+"It's a snipe's feather Bideabout has promised me," answered the
+lad.
+
+"And what do you want a snipe's feather for at this time o' night?"
+
+"Mother, it's to make a paint brush of. Bideabout ain't at home
+much by day. I've been over the road scores o' times."
+
+"A paint brush! What do you want paint brushes for? Have you
+cleaned out the pig-stye lately?"
+
+"Yes, mother, but the pig lies abroad now; it's warm in the stye."
+
+"Well, you may go. Dear life! I wish I could see that blessed babe
+again, safe and sound. Oh, my!"
+
+The good-hearted woman was destined to have her wish answered more
+speedily than she could have anticipated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE PUNCH-BOWL.
+
+
+The Broom-Squire and the boy were on their way up the hill that
+led towards the habitation of the former; or, to be more exact, it
+led to the summit of the hill whence the Squire would have to
+diverge at a sharp angle to the right to reach his home.
+
+The evening had closed in. But that mattered not to them, for they
+knew their way, and had not far to go.
+
+The road mounted continuously, first at a slight incline, over
+sand sprinkled with Scotch pines, and then more rapidly to the
+range of hills that culminates in Hind Head, and breaks into the
+singular cones entitled The Devil's Jumps.
+
+This is one of the loveliest parts of fair England. The pine and
+the oak and the Spanish chestnut luxuriate in the soil, the sand
+tracts between the clumps are deep in heather, at intervals the
+country is furrowed as by a mighty plough; but the furrowing was
+done by man's hand to extract the metal of which the plough is
+formed. From a remote antiquity this district of Surrey, as
+well as the weald of Sussex, was the great centre of the iron
+trade. The metal lies in masses in the sand, strangely smooth and
+liver-colored, and going by the name of kidney iron. The forest of
+Anderida which covered the weald supplied at once the ore and the
+fuel for smelting.
+
+In many places are "hammer ponds," pools of water artificially
+constructed, which at one time served to turn wheels and work
+mechanism for the beating out of the iron that had been won on
+the spot.
+
+The discovery of coal and iron together, or in close proximity,
+in the North of England brought this industry of the counties of
+Surrey and Sussex to an abrupt end. Now the deposits of ore are
+no longer worked, no furnaces exist, only the traces of the old
+men's mines and forges and smelting pits remain to attest that
+from an age before Caesar landed in Kent, down to the close of
+the last century, all the iron employed in England came from this
+region.
+
+Another singular feature of the district consists in the masses
+of hard stone, gray with lichen, that lie about, here topping a
+sandhill, there dropped at random in the plain. There was at one
+time many more of these, but owing to their power of resisting
+heat they were largely exploited as hearthstones. These masses,
+there can be no doubt, are remains of superincumbent beds of hard
+rock that have been removed by denudation, leaving but a few
+fragments behind.
+
+That superstition should attach to these blocks is not marvellous.
+The parish in which lies the Punch-Bowl and rises Hind Head,
+comprises one such Thors-stone, named perhaps after the Scandinavian
+Thunder god. One of these strange masses of stone formerly occupied
+a commanding position on the top of Borough Hill. On this those in
+need knocked, whereupon the "Good People" who lived under it lent
+money to the knockers, or any utensil desired in loan, on condition
+that it was returned. One night, a petitioner, who was going to
+give a feast at the baptism of his child, went to the stone, and
+knocked, and asked in a loud voice for the loan of a cauldron.
+
+This was at once thrust out from under the stone, and was carried
+away and used for the christening feast. Unhappily, the applicant
+for the cauldron neglected to return it at the time appointed, and
+since then no more loans have been made. The cauldron, which is of
+copper, is now preserved in Frensham parish church. It is two feet
+in diameter, and stands on an iron trivet.
+
+After the road had ascended some way, all trees disappeared. The
+scenery was as wild and desolate as any in Scotland. On all sides
+heathery slopes, in the evening light a broken patch of sand
+showed white, almost phosphorescent, through contrast with the
+black ling. A melancholy bird piped. Otherwise all was still. The
+richly-wooded weald, with here and there a light twinkling on it,
+lay far below, stretching to Lewes. When the high-road nearly
+reached the summit, it was carried in a curve along the edge of
+a strange depression, a vast basin in the sand-hills, sinking
+three hundred feet to a marshy bottom full of oozing springs.
+This is termed the Devil's Punch-Bowl. The modern road is carried
+on a lower level, and is banked up against the steep incline. The
+old road was not thus protected and ran considerably higher.
+
+The night was gathering in, fold on fold, and obscuring all. The
+Punch-Bowl that the Broom-Squire and the boy had on their right
+was a bowl brimming with naught save darkness. Its depths could
+not be fathomed by the eye at that time of night, nor did any
+sound issue from it save a hissing as though some fluid were
+seething in the bowl; yet was this produced solely by the wind
+swirling in it among the harsh branches of the heather.
+
+"So your mother don't like your drawing and painting," said the
+Broom-Squire.
+
+"No, Bideabout, she and father be terrible on at me to become a
+publican, and carry along with the Ship, after father's got old
+and gived up. But I don't fancy it; in fact, I hate the thought
+of it. Of course," added the boy; "if they forces me to it, I must.
+But anyhow I wouldn't like to have that there Ship sign at our door
+so bad painted as she be. I could do better if I had the paints."
+
+"Oh! drinkers don't care for beautiful pictures at the door, but
+for good ale within."
+
+"I don't like that there ship, and I wouldn't stand it--if the
+inn were mine."
+
+"You're a fool," said the Broom-Squire contemptuously. "Here's
+the spot where the turn comes off the road to my house. Mind
+where you walk, and don't roll over down the Punch-Bowl; it's all
+a bog at the bottom."
+
+"There's no light anywhere," observed the boy.
+
+"No--no winders look this way. You can't say if a house is alive
+or dead from here."
+
+"How long have you had your place in the Punch-Bowl, Bideabout?"
+
+"I've heard say my grandfather was the first squatter. But the
+Rocliffes, Boxalls, Snellings, and Nashes will have it they're
+older. What do I care so long as I have the best squat in the lot."
+
+That the reader may understand the allusions a word or two must
+be allowed in explanation of the settlements in the Punch-Bowl.
+
+This curious depression in the sand range is caused by a number
+of springs welling up several hundred feet below the summit of
+the range. The rain that falls on the hills sinks through the sand
+until it reaches an impervious bed of clay, when it breaks forth
+at many orifices. These oozing springs in course of vast ages have
+undermined and washed away the superincumbent sand and have formed
+the crater called the Devil's Punch-Bowl. The bottom is one
+impassable swamp, and the water from the springs flows away to
+the north through an opening in the sand-hills.
+
+At some unknown date squatters settled in the Punch-Bowl, at a
+period when it was in as wild and solitary a region as any in
+England. They enclosed portions of the slopes. They built themselves
+hovels; they pastured their sheep, goats, cattle on the sides of
+the Punch-Bowl, and they added to their earnings the profits of a
+trade they monopolized--that of making and selling brooms.
+
+On the lower slopes of the range grew coppices of Spanish chestnut,
+and rods of this wood served admirably for broom-handles. The
+heather when long and wiry and strong, covered with its harsh
+leafage and myriad hard knobs, that were to burst into flower,
+answered for the brush.
+
+On account of this manufacture, the squatters in the Punch-Bowl
+went by the designation of Broom-Squires. They provided with
+brooms every farm and gentleman's house, nay, every cottage for
+miles around. A wagon-load of these besoms was often purchased,
+and the supply lasted some years.
+
+The Broom-Squires were an independent people. They used the turf
+cut from the common for fuel, and the farmers were glad to carry
+away the potash as manure for their fields.
+
+Another business supplemented farming and broom-making. That was
+holly-cutting and getting. The Broom-Squires on the approach of
+Christmas scattered over the country, and wherever they found holly
+trees and bushes laden with berries, without asking permission,
+regardless of prohibition, they cut, and then when they had a
+cartload, would travel with it to London or Guildford, to attend
+the Christmas market.
+
+Not only did they obtain their fuel from the heaths, but much of
+their victual as well. The sandy hills abound in rabbits, and the
+lagoons and morasses at the foot of the hills in the flat land
+teem with fish and wild fowl. At the present day the ponds about
+Frensham are much in request for fishing--at the time of our tale
+they were netted by the inhabitants of the neighborhood when they
+felt a hankering after fish, and the "moors," as marshes are
+locally termed, were prowled over for ducks, and the sand burrows
+watched for rabbits, all without let and hindrance.
+
+At the present date there are eight squatter families in the
+Punch-Bowl, three belong to the branches of the clan of Boxall,
+three to that of Snelling, and two to the less mighty clan of
+Nash. At the time of which I write one of the best built houses
+and the most fertile patches of land was in the possession of
+the young man, Jonas Kink, commonly known as Bideabout.
+
+Jonas was a bachelor. His father and mother were dead, and his
+sister had married one of the Rocliffe's. He lived alone in his
+tolerably substantial house, and his sister came in when she was
+able to put it tidy for him and to do some necessary cooking.
+He was regarded as close-fisted though young; his age about
+twenty-three years. Hitherto no girl had caught his fancy, or had
+caught it sufficiently to induce him to take one to wife.
+
+"Tell'y what," said his sister, "you'll be nothing else but an old
+hudger (bachelor)."
+
+This was coming to be a general opinion. Jonas Kink had a heart
+for money, and for that only. He sneered at girls and flouted them.
+It was said that Jonas would marry no girl save for her money,
+and that a monied girl might pick and choose for herself, and
+such as she would most assuredly not make election of Bideabout.
+Consequently he was foredoomed to be a "hudger."
+
+"What's that?" suddenly exclaimed the Broom-Squire, who led the
+way along a footpath on the side of the steep slope.
+
+"It's a dead sheep, I fancy, Bideabout."
+
+"A dead sheep--I wonder if it be mine. Hold hard, what's that
+noise?"
+
+"It's like a babe's cry," said the boy. "Oh, lawk! if it be dead
+and ha' become a wanderer! I shu'd never have the pluck to go
+home alone."
+
+"Get along with your wanderers. It's arrant nonsense. I don't
+believe a word of it."
+
+"But there is the crying again. It is near at hand. Oh, Bideabout!
+I be that terrified!"
+
+"I'll strike a light. I'm not so sure about this being a dead
+sheep."
+
+Something lay on the path, catching what little light came from
+the sky above.
+
+Jonas stooped and plucked some dry grass. Then he got out his
+tinderbox and struck, struck, struck.
+
+The boy's eyes were on the flashing sparks. He feared to look
+elsewhere. Presently the tinder was ignited, and the Broom-Squire
+blew it and held dry grass haulms to the glowing embers till a
+blue flame danced up, became yellow, and burst into a flare.
+
+Cautiously Jonas approached the prostrate figure and waved the
+flaming grass above it, whilst sparks flew about and fell over it.
+
+The boy, shrinking behind the man, looked timidly forward, and
+uttered a cry as the yellow flare fell over the object and illumined
+a face.
+
+"I thought as much," said the Broom-Squire. "What else could he
+expect? Them three chaps ha' murdered him. They've robbed and
+stripped him."
+
+"Oh--Bideabout!"
+
+"Aye. What other could come o' such companions. They've gone off
+wi' his clothes--left his shirt--have they? That's curious, as
+one of the blackguards had none."
+
+Then the child's wailing and sobbing sounded more continuously
+than before.
+
+"The baby ain't far off," said Jonas. "I suppose we can't leave it
+here. This is a pretty awkward affair. Tell'y what, Iver. You bide
+by the dead man and grope about for that there baby, and I'll go
+down to the houses and get help."
+
+"Oh, Bideabout! I dursn't."
+
+"Dursn't what?"
+
+"Not be left alone--here--in the Punch-Bowl with a dead man."
+
+"You're a fool," said Jonas, "a dead man can't hurt nobody, and
+them rascals as killed him are for sure a long way off by this
+time. Look here, Iver, you timid 'un, you find that squalling brat
+and take it up. I don't mind a brass fardin' being here wi' a
+corpse so long as I can have my pipe, and that I'll light. But I
+can't stand the child as well. You find that and carry it down,
+and get the Boxalls, or someone to take it in. Tell 'em there's a
+murdered man here and I'm by the body, and want to get home and
+can't till someone comes and helps to carry it away. Cut along
+and be sharp. I'd ha' given a shilling this hadn't happened. It
+may cost us a deal o' trouble and inconvenience--still--here it
+is--and--you pick about and find that creature squealin' its
+bellows out."
+
+There was callousness unusual and repulsive in so young a man.
+It jarred with the feelings of the frightened and nervous boy.
+Tears of alarm and pity were in his eyes. He felt about in the
+heather till he reached the infant. It was lying under a bush.
+He took the poor little creature up, and the babe, as though
+content to feel itself with strong arms under it, ceased to cry.
+
+"What shall I do, Bideabout?"
+
+"Do--cut along and raise the Boxalls and the Snellings, and bid
+them come and remove the body, and get someone to take the child.
+Confound the whole concern. I wish they'd done it elsewhere--or I
+hadn't come on it. But it's like my ill-luck."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+WITHOUT A ROOF.
+
+
+The boy, Iver, trudged along carrying the infant in his arms. The
+little face was against his cheek, and the warm breath played over
+it. Whenever the child cried, he spoke, and his voice reassured
+the babe, and it was quiet again. He walked cautiously, as the
+path was narrow and the night dark. A false step might send him
+rolling down the steep slope with his burden.
+
+Iver had often been to the squatters' quarters, and he knew very
+well his direction; but he was now agitated and alarmed.
+
+After a while he reached bushes and could see trees standing
+black against the sky, and caught the twinkling of lights. Before
+him was a cottage, and a little garden in front. He opened a
+wicket and went up to the door and rapped. A call of "Who is
+there?" in response. The boy raised the latch and entered.
+
+A red peat fire was burning on the hearth, and a man sat by it.
+A woman was engaged at needlework by the light of a tallow candle.
+
+"Tom Rocliffe!" exclaimed the boy. "There's been a murder. A
+sailor--he's dead on the path--there's Bideabout Kink standing
+by and wants you all to come and help and--here's the baby."
+
+The man sprang to his feet. "A murder! Who's dead?"
+
+"There was a sailor came to our place, it's he."
+
+"Who killed him?"
+
+"Some chaps as was drinking with him, so Bideabout says. They've
+robbed him--he had a lot of brass."
+
+"Dead--is he?" The man ran out.
+
+"And what have you got there?" asked the woman.
+
+"It's his baby."
+
+"How came he by the baby?"
+
+"I heard him say his wife was dead, and he were going to carry
+the child to his wife's sister."
+
+"What's the man's name?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Where did he come from?"
+
+"He was a seaman."
+
+"Where was he going to put the baby?"
+
+"I don't know 'xactly--somewhere Portsmouth way."
+
+"What's the man's name?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"How'll you find her?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Portsmouth is a large place. Are you sure she's in Portsmouth?"
+
+"He said Portsmouth way, I think."
+
+"Then there be a difficulty in finding her?"
+
+"'Spose there will. Will you take the baby?"
+
+"I-I--" The woman stared. "What's its name?"
+
+"It ain't got none."
+
+"Is it a boy or girl?"
+
+"I think it's a girl."
+
+"How old is it?"
+
+"I think he said about six weeks."
+
+"Is it healthy?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Maybe it has the smallpox."
+
+"I do not think so. Will you take it?"
+
+"I--not I. I know nothin' about it. There's no saying, it might
+bring diseases into the house, and I must consider my own children.
+Is it terrible dirty?"
+
+"I--I don't think so."
+
+"And it hasn't got a name?"
+
+"No; the sailor said it was not baptized."
+
+"What's the color of its eyes?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Has it got any hair?"
+
+"I have not looked."
+
+"P'raps it's an idjot?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"And is deformed?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Well, I can't have no baby here as I don't know nothin about. You
+can take it over to the Snellings. They may fancy it. I won't have
+nothin' to do with a babe as ain't got no parents and no name, and
+ain't got no hair and no color in its eyes. There is my Samuel
+snorin'. Take the child away. I don't want no measles, and smallpox,
+and scarlatina, and rickets brought into my house. Quick, take the
+nasty thing off as fast as you can."
+
+Iver shrunk away, left the house, and made his way, carrying the
+baby, to another cottage a hundred yards distant. There was a lane
+between them, with a stream running through it, and the banks were
+high and made the lane dark. The boy stumbled and fell, and though
+he probably had not hurt the child, he had frightened it, and it set
+up loud and prolonged screams. With brow bathed in perspiration,
+and heart beating from alarm, Iver hurried up to the second
+squatter's cabin, and, without knocking, burst in at the door.
+
+"I say," shouted he, "there's been a man killed, and here's a
+baby yelling, and I don't know what's the matter with it. I
+stumbled."
+
+A man who was pulling off his boots started to his feet.
+
+"Stop that darned noise," he said. "My wife--she's bad--got the
+fever, and can't abide no noise. Stop that din instantly, or I'll
+kick you out. Who are you, and what do'y mean rushing in on a
+fellow that way?"
+
+The boy endeavored to explain, but his voice was tremulous, and
+the cries of the infant pitched at a higher note, and louder.
+
+"I can't hear, and I don't want to," said the man. "Do you mind
+what I sed? My wife be terrible bad wi' fever, and her head all of
+a split, and can't bear no noise--and will you do what I say? Take
+that brat away. Is this my house or is it yours? Take that 'orrid
+squaller away, or I'll shy my boot at yer head."
+
+"But," said Iver, "there's a man dead--been murdered up in the--"
+
+"There'll be more afore long, if you don't cut. I'll heave that
+boot at you when I've counted thrice, if you don't get out. Drat
+that child! It'll wake my wife. Now, then, are you going?"
+
+Iver retreated hastily as the man whirled his heavy boot above his
+head by the lace.
+
+On leaving the house he looked about him in the dark. The cottages
+were scattered here and there, some in hollows by springs, others
+on knolls above them, without a definite road between them, except
+when two enclosures formed a lane betwixt their hedges.
+
+The boy was obliged to step along with great care, and to feel his
+way in front of him with his foot before planting it. A quarter
+of an hour had elapsed before he reached the habitation of the
+next squatter.
+
+This was a ramshackle place put together of doors and windows
+fitted into walls, made of boards, all taken from ruinous cottages
+that had been pillaged, and their wreckage pieced together as best
+could be managed. Here Iver knocked, and the door was opened
+cautiously by an old man, who would not admit him till he had
+considered the information given.
+
+"What do you say? A man murdered? Where? When? Are the murderers
+about?"
+
+"They have run away."
+
+"And what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Would you mind taking in the poor little baby, and going to help
+Master Bideabout Kink to carry the body down."
+
+"Where to? Not here. We don't want no bodies here."
+
+The old fellow would have slammed the door in Iver's face had not
+the boy thrust in foot and knee.
+
+Then a woman was heard calling, "What is that there, Jamaica? I
+hear a babe."
+
+"Please, Mrs. Cheel, here is a poor little creature, the child of
+the murdered man, and it has no one to care for it," said the boy.
+
+"A babe! Bless me! give the child to me," cried the woman. "Now
+then, Jamaica, bundle out of that, and let me get at the baby."
+
+"No, I will not, Betsy," retorted the man designated Jamaica. "Why
+should I? Ask for an inch, and they'll have an ell. Stick in the
+toe of the baby, and they'll have the dead father after it. I don't
+want no corpses here."
+
+"I will have the baby. I haven't set my eyes on a baby this
+hundred years."
+
+"I say you shan't have nothing of the sort."
+
+"I say I shall. If I choose to have a baby, who's to say me nay?"
+
+"I say you nay. You shan't have no babies here."
+
+"This is my house as much as yourn."
+
+"I'm master I reckon."
+
+"You are an old crabstick."
+
+"You're an old broom-handle."
+
+"Say that again."
+
+"I say it."
+
+"Now then--are you going to hit me?"
+
+"I intend to."
+
+Then the old man and his wife fell to fighting, clawing and
+battering each other, the woman screaming out that she would have
+a baby, the man that she should not.
+
+Iver had managed to enter. The woman snatched at the child, the
+man wrenched it away from her. The boy was fain to escape outside
+and fly from the house with the child lest the babe should be torn
+in pieces between them. He knew old Cheel and his wife well by
+repute--for a couple ever quarrelling.
+
+He now made his way to another house, one occupied by settlers of
+another family. There were here some sturdy sons and daughters.
+
+When Iver had entered with the babe in his arms and had told his
+tale, the young people were full of excitement.
+
+"Bill," said one of the lads to his brother, "I say! This is
+news. I'm off to see."
+
+"I'll go along wi' you, Joe."
+
+"How did they kill him?" asked one of the girls. "Did they punch
+him on the head?"
+
+"Or cut his throat?" asked Bill.
+
+"Joe!" called one of the girls, "I'll light the lantern, and
+we'll all go."
+
+"Aye!" said the father, "these sort o' things don't happen but
+once in a lifetime."
+
+"I wouldn't be out of seeing it for nuthin'," said the mother.
+"Did he die sudden like or take a long time about it?"
+
+"I suppose they'll inquitch him," said one of the girls.
+
+"There'll be some hanging come o' this," said one of the boys.
+
+"Oh, my! There will be goings on," said the mother. "Dear life,
+I may never have such a chance again. Stay for me, Betsy Anne.
+I'm going to put on my clogs."
+
+"Mother, I ain't agoing to wait for your clogs."
+
+"Why not? He won't run away."
+
+"And the baby?" asked Iver.
+
+"Oh, bother the baby. We want to see the dead man."
+
+"I wonder, now, where they'll take him to?" asked the mother.
+"Shall we have him here?"
+
+"I don't mind," said the father. "Then he'll be inquitched here;
+but I don't want no baby."
+
+"Nor do I nuther," said the woman. "Stay a moment, Betsy Anne!
+I'm coming. Oh, my! whatever have I done to my stocking, it's
+tore right across."
+
+"Take the child to Bideabout," said one young man, "we want no
+babies here, but we'll have the corpse, and welcome. Folks will
+come and make a stir about that. But we won't have no babies.
+Take that child back where you found it."
+
+"Babies!" said another, scornfully, "they come thick as blackberries,
+and bitter as sloes. But corpses--and they o' murdered men--them's
+coorosities."
+
+"But the baby?" again asked the boy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MEHETABEL.
+
+
+Iver stood in the open air with the child in his arms. He was
+perplexed. What should be done with it? He would have rubbed
+his head, to rub an idea into it, had not both his arms been
+engaged.
+
+Large warm drops fell from the sky, like tears from an overcharged
+heart. The vault overhead was now black with rain clouds, and a
+flicker over the edge of the Punch-Bowl, like the quivering of
+expiring light in a despairing eye, gave evidence that a thunderstorm
+was gathering, and would speedily break.
+
+The babe became peevish, and Iver was unable to pacify it.
+
+He must find shelter somewhere, and every door was shut against the
+child. Had it not been that the storm was imminent, Iver would have
+hasted directly home, in full confidence that his tender-hearted
+mother would receive the rejected of the Broom-Squire, and the
+Ship Inn harbor what the Punch-Bowl refused to entertain.
+
+He stumbled in the darkness to Jonas Kink's house, but finding the
+door locked, and that the rain was beginning to descend out of the
+clouds in rushes, he was obliged to take refuge in an out-house or
+barn--which the building was he could not distinguish. Here he was
+in absolute darkness. He did not venture to grope about, lest he
+should fall over some of the timber that might be, and probably was,
+collected there.
+
+He supposed that he was in the place where Jonas fashioned his
+brooms, in which case the chopping block, the bundles of twigs,
+as well as the broom-sticks would be lying about. Bideabout was
+not an orderly and tidy worker, and his material would almost
+certainly be dispersed and strewn in such a manner as to trip
+up and throw down anyone unaccustomed to the place, and unprovided
+with a light.
+
+The perspiration broke out on the boy's brow. The tears welled up
+in his eyes. He danced the infant in his arms, he addressed it
+caressingly, he scolded it. Then, in desperation, he laid it on
+the ground, and ran forth, through the rain, to the cottage of an
+old maid near, named Sally, stopping, however, at intervals in his
+career, to listen whether the child were still crying; but unable
+to decide, owing to the prolonged chime in his ears. It is not at
+once that the drums of hearing obtain relief, after that they have
+been set in vibration by acute clamor. On reaching the old maid's
+door he knocked.
+
+For some time Sally remained irresponsive.
+
+"I knows very well," said she to herself under the bedclothes,
+"it's that dratted boy who has been at the Rocliffe's."
+
+Iver persisted in knocking. At length she appeared at the casement,
+opened it, thrust forth her nightcapped head, and said peevishly,
+"It ain't no manner o' use. I won't have no babies here, not to
+my time o' life, thank'y. I sez I won't, and wot I sez that I
+sticks to like toffee between the teeth. You may knock them there
+knuckles of yorn into dimples, but open I won't. I won't. I won't."
+
+The old woman stamped on her bedroom floor.
+
+"I do not ask that, Sally," pleaded the boy. "I have set the baby
+in Bideabout's barn, and there's no knowin', it may get hold of
+the chopper and hack off its limbs, or pull down all the rick o'
+broom-handles on Itself, or get smothered in the heather. I want
+a lantern. I don't know how to pacify the creature, and 'tis
+squeadling that terrible I don't know what's the matter."
+
+"Is it a drawin' of the hind legs up, and stiffenin' of the back?"
+asked the old maid.
+
+"I think so," answered the boy, dubiously; then, with further
+consideration, "I'm sure of it. It wriggled in my arms, like a worm
+when one's gettin' it on a hook out fishing."
+
+"That's convulsions," said Sally. "'Twill go off in one of they,
+sure as eggs is eggs and ain't inions."
+
+"Do you really say so?"
+
+"It's that, or water on the brain. Wi' all this pouring rain, I
+shouldn't wonder if 'twasn't the tother. Not, you know, that I've
+any acquaintance wi babies. Only I've heard wimmin talk as has had
+'em just like rabbits."
+
+"Do they die when they have water on the brain?" asked the boy.
+
+"Always. Babies can't stand it, no more nor can goslings gettin'
+their backs wetted."
+
+"Don't you think that perhaps it's only hunger?"
+
+"Can't say. Has the babe been a grabbin' and a clawin' at your
+nose, and a tryin' to suck it?"
+
+"Once, Sally, when my nose got into the way."
+
+"Then there's hunger too," said Sally, sententiously. "Them babies
+has terrible apertites, like canibals, and don't know what's good
+for 'em."
+
+"Will you help me?" pleaded the boy. "Have you a feeding bottle?"
+
+"Presarve and deliver us--I! What do you take me for, you imperant
+bye?"
+
+"I think any medicine bottle would do, if well washed out. I
+shouldn't like, if there was any castor oil or senna tea dregs
+left, you know. But properly washed out, it might do, with a
+little milk in it."
+
+"You'll choke the baby like that," said the old maid.
+
+"I have seen how it is done. You stuff a bit of rag into the
+throat of the bottle, and leave a tip o' rag hanging out."
+
+"Dare say, but you byes seems to understand these things better
+than I."
+
+"Won't you come down and help me, Sally?"
+
+"I'll come down presently when I've tumbled into some of my
+clothes."
+
+Then the head disappeared, and the casement was shut.
+
+After the lapse of a few minutes, a light appeared at the window
+of the lower room, and the door was slowly unlocked and unbarred.
+
+Then the old woman appeared in the doorway. She wore her huge
+white-frilled nightcap, that fluttered in the wind about the
+shrivelled face it enclosed, but she presented an extremely limp
+and attenuated appearance in her person.
+
+"I've been a turnin' over in my head," she said, "and ten chances
+to half-a-one, if that there child hev been squealin' so long,
+it's either broke a blood vessel, or will die o' 'plexy. There'll
+be a purty expense to the parish. There'll be two buryings laid
+on it that oughten't to be. That means an extra penny in the
+rates. If them there chaps wanted to murder a man, why didn't
+they go and do it in Hampshire, and not go a burdenin' of this
+county an' parish? There's rayson in everything."
+
+"Do you really suppose the child will die?" asked the boy, more
+concerned about the life than about the rates.
+
+"How can I say? I've had precious little to do wi' babies, thanks
+be. Now, sharp, what is it you want? I'm perishin' wi' cold."
+
+"May I have a bottle and some milk, and a lantern?"
+
+"You can have wot you wants, only I protest I'll have no babies
+foist on me here." Then she added, "I will not trust you byes.
+Show me your hands that you ain't hidin' of it behind yer back."
+
+"I assure you the child is in Bideabout's shed. Do be quick, and
+help. I am so afraid lest it die, and becomes a wanderer."
+
+"If I can help it I will do what I can that it mayn't die, for
+certain," said the woman, "anything but taking it in here, and
+that I won't, I won't, I won't." Again she stamped.
+
+Iver provided himself with the requisites as speedily as might be,
+and hastened back to the outhouse. At the door a cat was miawling,
+and rubbed itself against his shins. When he entered the cat
+followed him.
+
+The child was still sobbing and fitfully screaming, but was rapidly
+becoming exhausted.
+
+Iver felt the arms and head and body to ascertain whether any bone
+was broken or battered by the fall, but his acquaintance with the
+anatomy of a child was still rudimentary for him to come to any
+satisfactory conclusion.
+
+He held the bottle in one and, but was ignorant how to administer
+the contents. Should the child be laid on its back or placed in a
+sitting posture?
+
+When he applied the moistened rag to its mouth he speedily
+learned that position was immaterial. The babe fell to work
+vigorously, with the large expectation of results. Some moments
+elapsed before it awoke to the fact that the actual results were
+hardly commensurate with its anticipations, nor with its exertions.
+
+When roused to full consciousness that it was being trifled with,
+then the resentment of the infant was vehement and vociferous.
+It drew up its legs and kicked out. It battled with its hands, it
+butted with its pate, and in its struggles pulled the plug out
+of the mouth of the flask so that the milk gushed over its face
+and into its mouth, at once blinding and choking it.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall I do?" he exclaimed, and began to
+cry with vexation.
+
+The cat now came to his assistance. It began to lick up the spilled
+milk.
+
+Iver seized the occasion.
+
+"Look, see, pretty puss!" said he, caressingly, to the child.
+"Stroke pussy. Don't be afraid. You see she likes the milk that you
+wouldn't have. Naughty pussy eats little birds and mousies. But she
+won't touch babies."
+
+The cat having appropriated the spilled milk looked at the infant
+with an uncanny way out of her glinting green eyes, as though by no
+means indisposed to try whether baby was not as good eating as a
+fledgling bird, as toothsome as a mouse.
+
+Iver caught up the cat and scratched her under the chin and behind
+the ears.
+
+"Do you hear? The pussy purrs. Would that you also might purr. She
+is pleased to make your acquaintance. Oh do, do, do be quiet!"
+
+Then casting aside the cat he endeavored slowly to distil some of
+the milk down the child's throat without suffering it to swallow
+too much at once, but found the task difficult, if not impossible
+for his hand shook.
+
+"Wait a bit," said he. "There are straws here. I will cut one and
+put it through the rag, and then you can tipple like a king upon
+his throne."
+
+He selected a stout barley straw, and finding a knot in it
+endeavored to perforate the obstruction with a pin. When this
+failed he looked about for another straw, and at last discovered
+one that was strong, uninterrupted by knots, and sufficiently
+long to serve his purpose.
+
+For awhile he was so engrossed in his occupation that the child
+remained unnoticed. But when the straw had been adjusted
+satisfactorily, and the apparatus was in working order, as Iver
+ascertained by testing it himself, then he looked round at his
+charge.
+
+The babe was lying silent and motionless.
+
+His heart stood still.
+
+"It is dead! It is going to die! It will become a wanderer!" he
+exclaimed; and putting down the feeding bottle, snatched up the
+lantern, crept on his knees to the child, and brought the little
+face within the radius of the sickly yellow light.
+
+"I cannot see! O, I can see nothing! There is no light worth
+having!" he gasped, and proceeded to open the door in the lantern
+side.
+
+"What is do be done?" he asked despairingly. "I do not know if it
+be dying or be in a fit. O! live! do, do live! I'll give you a
+brass button and some twine out of my pocket! I promise you my
+next lollipops if you will. Nasty, cross, disobliging thing."
+He went to the barn door and looked out, saw that the rain was
+coming down in torrents, came back. "Is it true," asked he,
+"that you must be a wanderer, if you die unchristened? Shall I
+ever hear you yowling in the wind? It is too, too dreadful!"
+
+A chill came over the boy's heart.
+
+Iver had never seen death. He was vastly frightened at the thought
+that the little soul might fleet away whilst he was watching. He
+dared not leave the child. He was afraid to stay. If he were to
+desert the babe, and it expired--and to run home, would not the
+soul come crying and flapping after him?
+
+He considered with his hands to his head.
+
+"I know what I will do!" exclaimed he, suddenly; "I'll make a
+Christian of it, anyhow."
+
+There was standing on the floor an old broken red bowl of coarse
+pottery, out of which fowls had been fed. It was now empty.
+
+Iver took it, wiped it out with his hand, and went with it to
+the door, where a rude "launder" or shoot of wood carried the
+water from the thatch immediately over the door, and sent the
+collected moisture in a stream down one side. The boy held the
+vessel under the shoot till he had obtained sufficient for his
+purpose, and then, returning within, said, "I'll stop your
+wandering," went up to the child, sprinkled some water over it
+and said, "Mehetabel, I baptize thee--"
+
+The cat made a spring and dashed past.
+
+Down went the contents of the bowl over the babe, which uttered
+a howl lusty, loud enough to have satisfied any nurse that the
+baptism was valid, and that the devil was expelled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+MEHETABEL IT MUST BE.
+
+
+In at the barn door came Mrs. Verstage, Iver's mother.
+
+"Iver! Wot's up?"
+
+"Oh, mother!"
+
+"Where's that babe?"
+
+"Here, mother, on the ground."
+
+"On the ground! Good life! Sowsed, soaked through and through,
+whatever have you been doin'? Holdin' it under the spout?"
+
+"Baptizin' it, mother."
+
+"Baptizin' of it?" The woman stared.
+
+"I thought the creetur was dyin'."
+
+"Well, and wot then?"
+
+"Mother. Lest it shud take to wanderin'."
+
+"Baptizin' of it. Dear life! And what did you call it?"
+
+"Mehetabel."
+
+"Mehetabel! 'Taint a human name."
+
+"It is, mother. It's a Scriptur name."
+
+"Never heard on it."
+
+"Mehetabel was the wife of Hadar."
+
+"And who the dickens was Hadar?"
+
+"He was a dook--a dook of Edom."
+
+In the churchyard of Thursley stands a large white stone, on
+which is carved a medallion, that contains the representation
+of a man falling on the ground, with one arm raised in deprecation,
+whilst two men are robbing and murdering him, and a third is
+represented as acting sentinel lest the ruffians should be
+surprised. On the ground are strewn the garments of the man who
+is being killed. Beneath this rudely sculptured group is this
+inscription:--
+
+  I N  M E M O R Y  O F
+
+  A generous, but unfortunate Sailor,
+  Who was barbarously murdered on Hind Head,
+  On September 24th, 1786,
+
+  B Y  T H R E E  V I L L A I N S,
+
+  After he had liberally treated them and promised
+  them his farther Assistance on the Road
+  to Portsmouth.
+
+In the "Royal Huts," a tavern, in which now very good entertainment
+for man and beast may be had, a tavern which stands somewhat
+further along the way to Portsmouth than Hind Head, may be seen
+at this day some rude contemporary paintings representative of
+the murder.
+
+The ruffians after having killed their victim, robbed him, not
+only of his money, but also of his clothes, and hastened on their
+way.
+
+A hue and cry were raised, when the corpse had been discovered,
+and the men were arrested upon the following day at Sheet, near
+Peterhead, and were found in possession of the clothing of the
+deceased. In due course of time they were tried at Kingston, and
+on the 7th of April, 1787, were hung and gibbeted in chains on
+Hind Head Hill, beside the old road and close to the scene of
+their crime.
+
+A cross now marks the summit, and indicates the spot where stood
+the gallows, and a stone for some time pointed out the locality
+where the murder was committed. When, however, the new Portsmouth
+Road was cut further down the hill, skirting the Punch-Bowl at a
+lower level, then the stone was removed to the side of the new
+road. At present it is an object visited by vast numbers of
+holiday-makers, who seem to take almost as lively an interest
+in the crime that was committed over a century ago as if it were
+an event of the present day. At the time the murder aroused the
+greatest possible excitement in the neighborhood, and pre-eminently
+in the parish of Thursley.
+
+As may be gathered from the wording of the inscription on the
+tombstone that covers the victim, his name never transpired. No
+relations claimed the right to bury him. None appeared to take
+charge of his orphan child.
+
+The parish fretted, it fumed, it protested. But fret, fume, and
+protest availed nothing, it had to defray the cost of the funeral,
+and receive and lap the child in its parochial mercies.
+
+A deceased wife's sister undoubtedly existed somewhere. Such was
+the conviction of every parishioner. The poor man was on his way
+to Portsmouth to deposit his child with her when the tragic event
+took place. Why did she not come forward? Why did she hold her
+tongue?
+
+Had there existed in her bosom one particle of natural feeling
+she would not have remained mute and motionless, and allowed the
+parish to bury her brother-in-law and encumber itself with her
+niece.
+
+So the parish talked, appealingly, argumentatively, blusteringly,
+objurgatively, but all to no purpose. The deceased wife's sister
+kept mum, and invisible. Reluctantly, resentfully, the parish was
+finally obliged to face the facts, pay the expenses of the
+interment, and settle that a weekly dole should be afforded for
+the maintenance of the child, and as that deceased wife's sister
+did not appear, the parochial bile overflowed upon the hapless
+babe, who came to be regarded as an incubus on the ratepayers and
+a general nuisance.
+
+The one difficulty that solved itself--ambulando, was that as to
+who would take charge of the child. That was solved by the hostess
+of the Ship.
+
+The parish endeavored to cajole the good woman into receiving the
+babe as a gift from Heaven, and to exact no compensation for her
+labors in rearing it, for the expense of clothing, feeding,
+educating it. But Mrs. Verstage was deaf to such solicitations.
+She would take charge of the child, but paid she must be. Eventually
+the parochial authorities, after having called a vestry, and sat
+three hours in consultation, and to "knuckle under," as the hostess
+expressed it, and allow a trifle for the entertainment of the
+little waif.
+
+So the matter was settled.
+
+Then another had to be determined. What about the christening
+performed in the shed by Iver? What about the outlandish name
+given the child? The landlady raised no question on these heads
+till it was settled that the little being was to be an inmate of
+her house, and under her care. Then she reasoned thus--"Either
+this here child be a Mehetabel or she bain't. Either it's a
+Christian or it's a heathen. What is it? Is it fish, is it flesh,
+or is it good red herring? It ain't no use my calling her Mehetabel
+if she bain't nothing of the sort. And it ain't no use teachin'
+her the caterplasm, if she ha'n't been made a Christian. I'll go
+and ax the pa'son."
+
+Accordingly the good woman took Iver by the shoulder and dragged
+him to Witley Vicarage, and stated her case and her difficulties.
+The Vicar had already had wind of what had occurred. Thursley was
+at the period a chapelry in the extensive parish of Witley, and
+the church therein had, before the Reformation, been regularly
+served by the monks of Witley Abbey. It was afterwards more or
+less irregularly supplied with sacred ministrations from the
+mother-church, and had no resident pastor.
+
+In former days the parishioners were never very sure whether there
+was to be a service in Church at Thursley or not. The sexton was
+on the look-out, and if he saw the parson's wig glimmering over
+the hedge top, as he rode along, then he at once rushed to the
+bell-rope and announced to such of the parishioners as were within
+hearing, that there was to be divine service. If there were no
+service, then those who had come from a distance in expectation of
+devotion, retired to the tavern and drank and gossiped, and were
+not disposed to cavil. The Church of Thursley is curious, it has
+a central bell-tower supported on huge beams of oak, such oaks they
+must have been as are never seen now. Those desiring to see the
+parson had to seek him in the Vicarage of the mother parish.
+
+Mrs. Verstage accordingly had to go with her boy to Witley.
+
+"If the boy gave a name," said the parson.
+
+"He did, your Reverence, and such a name."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Mehetabel."
+
+"Wherever did you pick up that name?" asked the Vicar, turning to
+the boy.
+
+"Please, sir, we was doin' the Dooks of Edom in Sunday-school.
+We'd already learned David's mighty men, and could run 'em off
+like one o'clock, and--I don't know how it was, sir, but the name
+slipped out o' my mouth wi'out a thought. You see, sir, we had so
+many verses to say for next Sunday, and I had some of the Dooks of
+Edom to repeat."
+
+"Oh! So you gave it the name of one of the Dukes."
+
+"Please, sir, no. Mehetabel was the wife of one, she was married
+to his Grace, Dook Hadar."
+
+"Oh, Hadar! to be sure, quite so; quite so! Very good boy, glad
+you are so well primed in all things necessary to salvation."
+
+"And is the child to be called Mehetabel?" asked the woman.
+
+"That depends," said the Vicar. "How did the boy perform the
+sacred function?"
+
+"Please, sir," said Iver, "I did it as your Honor does, after the
+second lesson on Sunday afternoon, and the churching."
+
+"He hadn't no surplice on," argued the mother.
+
+"You had a bowl of pure water?" asked the parson.
+
+"Yes, sir, rain water. I caught it out of the spout."
+
+"And the words used?"
+
+"The same as you say, sir; exactly."
+
+The parson rubbed his chin.
+
+"Was it done in thoughtlessness--in irreverent folly?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir! I did it in sober earnest. I thought the child was
+going to die."
+
+"Of course," said the Vicar, "lay baptism is valid, even if
+administered by a Dissenter; but--it is very unusual, very much so."
+
+"I didn't do all that about the cross," observed Iver, "because the
+cat jumped and upset the bowl."
+
+"Of course, of course. That belongs to the reception into the
+church, and you couldn't do that as it was--"
+
+"In Bideabout's basin," said Iver.
+
+"You are certain the water touched the child?"
+
+"Soused her," responded the hostess. "She caught a tremendous
+cold out o' it, and has been runnin' at the nose ever since."
+
+"I think the very best thing we can do," said the Vicar, "is that
+I should baptize the child conditionally, in church,--conditionally
+mind."
+
+"And call her by another name?" asked the woman.
+
+"I do not think I can do that."
+
+"It's a terrible mouthful," observed Mrs. Verstage.
+
+"I daresay that in practice you will be able to condense it. As
+for that boy of yours, ma'am, I should like a word with him, by
+himself."
+
+"So, the creetur must bide Mehetabel?"
+
+"Mehetabel it must be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FALSE PERSPECTIVE.
+
+
+As this story concerns that child which received the name of
+Mehetabel, it has been necessary to begin _de novo_ with her as
+a babe, and to relate how she came by her name--that is her
+Christian name--and how it was that she had no surname at all.
+Also, how it was that she came to be an inmate of the Ship, and
+how that her fortunes were linked at the very outset of her career,
+on the one hand with Iver, who baptized her, and on the other
+hand with the Broom-Squire, whose roof--that at least of his
+shed--had sheltered her when every door of the squatter settlement
+in the Punch-Bowl, was resolutely closed against her.
+
+But although this story begins with Mehetabel before she could
+speak, before she could assimilate anything more substantial than
+milk, yet the author has no intention of inflicting on the reader
+the record of her early days, of her acquisition of the power of
+speech, and capacity for consuming solid food. Neither is it his
+purpose to develop at large the growth of her mental powers, and
+to describe the evolution of her features. Suffice it then to say
+that Mehetabel grew up in the Ship Inn, almost as a child of the
+hostess and of her husband, with Iver as her playmate, and somewhat
+consequential patron.
+
+By the parish at large, whether that of Witley or of its subdivision
+Thursley, she was coldly regarded. She was but a charity girl, and
+kind as Mrs. Verstage was, the hostess never forgot that.
+
+Iver was fourteen years older than Mehetabel, and, above all, was
+a boy, whereas Mehetabel was a waif, and only a girl.
+
+Iver, moreover, regarded the child with gracious condescension. Had
+he not baptized her? Did she not owe her name to him? Had he not
+manufactured her first feeding-bottle?
+
+As Mehetabel grew up, it is not surprising that she should regard
+Iver with admiration and affection, that she cherished every
+kindness he showed her, and in every way sought to deserve his
+notice.
+
+The child had an affectionate, a clinging nature, and she threw
+the tendrils of her heart around the handsome boy, who was both
+patron and playmate.
+
+It is a matter wholly immaterial whether Mehetabel underwent the
+ordeal of the customary childish maladies, measles, chicken-pox,
+whooping-cough for certainty, and scarlet fever and smallpox as
+possibilities, for none of them cut short the thread of her life,
+nor spoiled her good looks; either of which eventualities would
+have prevented this story proceeding beyond the sixth chapter. In
+the one case, there would have been no one about whom to write,
+in the other, had she been marked by smallpox or deafened by
+scarlatina, the interest of the reader could not have been claimed
+for her--so exacting is the reader of fiction. A heroine must be
+good-looking, or she will not be read about.
+
+Indeed, it is more than probable, that had the author announced his
+story to be one of a very plain woman, he might have looked in
+vain for a publisher to undertake the issue of the story.
+
+Before proceeding further it will be well to assure the reader
+that, from an early age, promise of beauty was given, and not of
+beauty only, but of intelligence and robust health.
+
+Mehetabel was sent by Mrs. Verstage not only to a day school, kept
+by a widow, in Thursley, but also on the Lord's Day to the Vicar's
+Sunday-school at Witley. The Vicar was an excellent man, kindly
+disposed, earnest in his desire to do good, so long as the good was
+to be done in a novel fashion, absolutely untried. Sunday-schools
+were but a recent introduction, and he seized on the expedient with
+avidity. Hitherto the children had been catechised in Church after
+the second lesson in the afternoon, before their parents and the
+entire congregation. But as this was an usage of the past the Vicar
+rejected it in favor of the new system. According to the traditional
+custom the children had been instructed in the Creed, the Lord's
+Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. But this did not please the
+innovating Vicar, who cast these out of his curriculum to make way
+for a knowledge of the geography of Palestine, and an accurate
+acquaintance with the genealogies that are to be found scattered
+here and there in the pages of Holy Writ, The teaching of doctrine,
+according to the Vicar, lay at the bottom of the divisions of
+Christendom, but there could be no controversy over the latitude
+and longitude of the sites mentioned in Scripture.
+
+The landlord, proprietor of the Ship and of Mrs. Susanna Verstage,
+was a dull, obstinate man, slow of thought and of speech, withal
+kindly. Like many another dull man, if he did a stupid thing he
+stuck to it; and the stupider the thing done, the greater the
+tenacity with which he held to the consequences. His mind was
+chiefly occupied with a small farm acquired out of the sand waste,
+hedged about, dressed and cultivated, and increasing annually in
+value. In this was his interest and pride; he cared nothing for
+the tavern, save as an adjunct to the farm. All his energies were
+devoted to the latter, and he allowed his wife to rule supreme in
+the inn. Simon Verstage was a well-to-do man. He must have managed
+very ill had he not made a farm answer for which he paid no rent,
+save an acknowledgment of 6d. an acre to the lord of the manor. He
+held the land on a head rent upon the lives of himself, his wife,
+and his son. The public-house, well frequented by wayfarers, and
+in good repute among the villagers, supplemented the profits made
+out of the farm in good years, and made up for deficit in such
+years as rain and deficiency in sun made bad agriculturally.
+
+The inn stood at a junction of roads, or rather where two lanes
+fell into the main London and Portsmouth road. It sometimes went
+in consequence by the name of The Lane End Inn. In situation it
+was fairly sheltered, a hillock of sand rock sheltered it on the
+east from the bitter winds that swept the waste between Milford
+and Thursley, and a growth of huge hollies was its protection
+against the equally cold blasts from the north.
+
+So long as Iver was a small boy, his father employed him about
+the farm, to assist him in ploughing, to hoe potatoes, and wield
+the muck-fork in the cow-house, or, to use the local term, the
+cow-stall. He kept the lad hard at work from morning rise till set
+of day.
+
+Iver endured this, not entering with interest and pleasure into
+the work of the farm. He had no perception of the points of a
+bullock, and he had a prejudice in favor of ragged hedges.
+
+Iver's neglect of duties, and forgetfulness of what was told him,
+called forth reprimand and provoked chastisement. They were not
+due to wilfulness or frivolity, but to preoccupation of the mind.
+The boy had no natural taste for the labors of the field. He
+disliked them; for everything else he had eyes, save for that
+which pertained to the tasks imposed on him.
+
+Throughout early boyhood this lack of interest and inattention had
+caused much friction, and this friction became aggravated as he
+grew older, and his natural bent became more marked.
+
+It would be hard to find in one family two persons so utterly
+dissimilar as Iver and his father. They seemed to have diverse
+faculties seated in their several organs. They neither saw, heard,
+nor smelt in the same manner, or rather saw, heard, and smelt so
+differently as to feel in distinct fashion. What pleased the one
+was distasteful to the other.
+
+It was not possible for Iver to open his mind to his father,
+because his father could not understand and appreciate his thoughts.
+
+But if his heart was sealed to Simon Verstage, it was open to his
+mother, who loved and spoiled him, and took his part invariably,
+whether the boy were in the right or wrong. In every way possible
+she humored his fancies; and she, unwisely, condoled with him on
+what she was pleased to consider as his father's injustice. At
+length there ensued a rupture so wide, so aggravated by mutual
+recrimination, that Mrs. Verstage doubted her ability to bridge
+it over.
+
+This breach was occasioned by Iver one morning climbing to the
+sign-board and repainting the stern of the vessel, which had long
+irritated his eye because, whereas the ship was represented sideways,
+the stern was painted without any attempt at fore-shortening; in
+fact, full front, if such a term can be applied to a stern.
+
+The laws of perspective were outraged in the original painting; of
+such laws Iver knew nothing. What he did know was that the picture
+was wrong. His eye, his natural instinct told him so. The matter
+had been for long one of controversy between himself and his
+father. The latter had been unable to understand that if the
+portholes at the side were visible, the entire stern could not
+possibly be viewed in full.
+
+"She's got a stern, ain't she?" asked the old man. "If she has,
+then wot's we to deny it her?"
+
+At length Iver cut the controversy short, and brought the quarrel
+to a crisis by climbing a ladder with a brush and some paints
+obtained from the village carpenter, during the temporary absence
+of his father, and putting the foreshortening to rights to the
+best of his ability.
+
+When the old man was aware what his son had done on his return
+from Godalming, whither he had betaken himself to a fair, then he
+was furious. He stormed at Iver for daring to disfigure the
+sign-board, and at his wife for suffering him to do it unreproved.
+
+Iver turned stubborn and sulky. He muttered an answer, lacking in
+that respect due to a parent. The old man became abusive.
+
+Mrs. Verstage intervened ineffectually; and when night arrived the
+youth made a bundle of his clothes and left the house, with the
+resolve not to return to it so long as his father lived.
+
+Whither he had gone, for a long time was unknown. His mother wept,
+so did Mehetabel. The old man put on an assumption of indifference,
+was short and ungracious to his wife. He was constrained to engage
+a man to do the farm work hitherto imposed upon Iver, and this
+further tended to embitter him against his rebellious son. He
+resented having to expend money when for so long he had enjoyed
+the work of Iver free of cost.
+
+The boy's pride prevented him from writing home till he had secured
+himself a position in which he could maintain himself. When he did
+communicate with Thursley, it was through Mehetabel, because Simon
+had forbidden any allusion to the truant boy, and Mrs. Verstage was
+not herself much of a scholar, and did not desire unnecessarily to
+anger her husband by having letters in his handwriting come to her
+by the post.
+
+Years passed, during which the landlady's heart ached for her son:
+and as she might not speak of him to Simon, she made a confidant
+of Mehetabel.
+
+Thus, the old woman and the girl were drawn closer together, and
+Mehetabel glowed with the thought that she was loved by the hostess
+as though she were her own daughter.
+
+To talk about the absent one was the great solace of Susanna
+Verstage's life. There ever gnawed at her heart the worm of
+bereavement from the child in whom her best affections, her
+highest pride, her sole ambitions were placed. It may be questioned
+whether, without the sympathetic ear and heart of Mehetabel into
+which to pour her troubles and to which to confide her hopes, the
+woman would not have deteriorated into a hard-hearted virago.
+
+Her love to Simon, never very hot, had dried up. He had wounded
+her to the quick in unpardonable fashion in driving her only child
+out of the house, and all for the sake of a two-penny-ha'penny
+signboard.
+
+Throughout her work she schemed, she thought for Iver; she toiled
+and endured in the tavern only to amass a competence for him. She
+clung to the place only because she trusted some day he would
+return to it, and because every corner was sweet with recollections
+of him.
+
+When not at work she dreamed, waking or sleeping, and all her
+dreams were of him. She built castles in the air--all occupied
+by him. She had but one hope: to meet her son again. All her
+activities, all her thoughts, all her aspirations, all her prayers
+were so many lines focussing on one point, and that her son. To
+Mehetabel she told her mind, and Mehetabel shared all her hopes;
+the heart of the girl beat in entire sympathy with that of the
+hostess. Iver's letters were read and re-read, commented on, and
+a thousand things read into them by the love of the mother that
+were not, and could not be there. These letters were ever in the
+girl's bosom, kept there to be out of reach of old Simon, and to
+be accessible at all moments to the hungering mother. They heard
+that Iver had taken to painting, and that he was progressing in his
+profession; that he gave lessons and sold pictures.
+
+What musings this gave rise to! what imaginations! What expectations!
+
+Mrs. Verstage never wearied of talking of Iver to Mehetabel, and
+it never wearied the girl to speak with the mother about him.
+
+The girl felt that she was indispensable to the old woman; but that
+she was only indispensable to her so long as Iver was away never
+entered into her imagination.
+
+There is a love that is selfish as well as a love that is wholly
+self-annihilating, and an inexperienced child is incapable of
+distinguishing one from the other.
+
+There is false perspective in the human heart as well as upon
+signboards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ONLY A CHARITY GIRL.
+
+
+Simon Verstage sat outside the door of his house, one hot June
+evening, smoking his pipe.
+
+By his side sat his wife, the hostess of the Ship. Eighteen years
+have passed since we saw her last, and in these years she has
+become more plump, a little more set in features, and mottled in
+complexion, but hardly otherwise older in appearance.
+
+She was one of those women who wear well, till a sickness or a
+piercing sorrow breaks them down, and then they descend life's
+ladder with a drop, and not by easy graduation.
+
+Yet Mrs. Verstage had not been devoid of trouble, for the loss of
+her son, the very apple of her eye, had left an ache in her heart
+that would have been unendurable, were not the balm of hope
+dropped into the wound. Mehetabel, or as she was usually called
+Matabel, had relieved her of the most onerous part of her avocation.
+Moreover, she was not a woman to fret herself to fiddle-strings;
+she was resolute and patient. She had formed a determination to
+have her son home again, even if she had to wait for that till
+his father was put under ground. She was several years younger
+than Simon, and in the order of nature might calculate on enjoyment
+of her widowhood.
+
+Simon and his wife sat in the wide porch. This had been constructed
+as an accommodation for wayfarers, as an invitation to take shade
+and shelter in hot weather or Mustering storm; but it also served
+what was uncontemplated, as an ear to the house. Whatever was
+uttered there was audible within--a fact very generally forgotten
+or unsuspected by such as occupied the porch. And, indeed, on the
+present occasion, this fact was wholly unconsidered by the taverner
+and his spouse, either because it escaped their minds that the
+porch was endowed with this peculiarity, or else because the only
+person then in the house was Mehetabel, and her hearing or not
+hearing what was said was an indifferent matter.
+
+Had there been customers present, drinking, the two would not have
+been together when and where they were, nor would the topic of
+conversation between them have been of a private nature.
+
+The innkeeper had begun with a remark which all the world might
+hear, and none would controvert, viz., that it was fine hay-making
+weather, and that next day he purposed carrying the crop.
+
+But Mrs. Verstage was indisposed to discuss a matter so obvious as
+the weather, and so certain as that it would be utilized for
+saving the hay. She plunged at once into that which lay near her
+heart, and said, "Simon, you'll answer that there letter now?"
+
+"Whose? Iver's?"
+
+"Of course, Iver's letter. Now you yourself have heard from him,
+and what does that mean but he wants all square between you. He
+has got into a famous business. He sells his pictures and gives
+lessons in drawing and painting at Guildford. It's but a matter of
+time and he will be a great man."
+
+"What! as a drawing master? I'd as lief he played the fiddle and
+taught dancing."
+
+"How can you say that, Simon?"
+
+"Because it is what I feels. Here he had a good farm, a good inn,
+and a good business--one that don't dwindle but is on the increase,
+and the land bettering every day--and yet off he went, chucked
+aside the blessin's of Providence, to take up wi' scribblin' and
+scrawlin' on paper. If it weren't a thing altogether shameful it
+would be clear ridic'lous."
+
+Simon sucked in smoke enough to fill his lungs, and then blew it
+forth leisurely in a long spiral.
+
+"Odds' life," said he, "I don't see why I shu'd concern myself
+about the hay, nor anythin' else. I've enough to live upon and to
+enjye myself. What more do I want now?"
+
+"What more?" inquired the landlady, with a sigh and a catch in
+her voice--a sigh of sorrow, a catch of resentment. "What more--when
+your son is away?"
+
+"Whose fault is that? Home weren't good enough for he. Even the
+Old Ship on the sign-board didn't give him satisfaction, and he
+must alter it. I don't see why I should worrit myself about the
+hay or any other thing. I'll just put up my feet an enjye myself."
+
+"Simon, I pray you answer Iver's letter. Opportunities be like
+fleas, to be took sharp, or away they goes, they be terrible
+long-legged. Opportunities only come now and then, and if not
+caught are lost past recall. 'Twas so wi' Temperance Noakes, who
+might a' had the chimbley-sweep if she'd a kissed him when he
+axed. But she said, Wipe and wash your face fust--and she's an
+old maid now, and goin' sixty. Consider, Simon. Iver be your son,
+your only child. It's Providence makes us wot we is; that's why
+you're a man and not a woman. Iver hadn't a gift to be a farmer,
+but he had to paintin'. It can't be other--it's Providence orders
+all, or you might be a mother and nursin' a baby, and I smokin'
+and goin' after the plough in leggin's."
+
+"That's all gammon," growled the landlord.
+
+"We be gettin' old," pursued Mrs. Verstage. "In the end you'll
+have to give up work, and who but Iver is to come after you here?"
+
+"Him--Iver!" exclaimed Simon. "Your own self says 'e ain't fit to
+be a farmer."
+
+"Then he may let the farm and stick to the inn."
+
+"He ain't got the makin' of a publican in him," retorted the man;
+"he's just about fit for nothin' at all."
+
+"Indeed, but he is, Simon," pleaded the woman, "only not in the
+way you fancies. What good be you now in a public-house? You do
+nothing there, it is I who have all the managin'."
+
+"I attend to the farm. Iver can do neither. All the money you and
+I ha' scraped together he'll chuck away wi' both hands. He'll let
+the fences down I ha' set up; he'll let weeds overrun the fields
+I ha' cleared. It shall not be. It never shall be."
+
+"He may marry a thrifty wife, as you have done."
+
+"And live by her labor!" he exclaimed, drawing his pipe from his
+mouth and in knocking out the ash in his anger breaking the stem.
+"That a child o' mine should come to that!"
+
+"Iver is your own flesh and blood," persisted the woman, in great
+excitement. "How can you be so hard on him? It's just like that
+old fowl as pecked her eggs, and we had to wring her neck. It's
+like rabbits as eat their own young. Nonsense! You must be
+reconciled together. What you have you cannot leave to a stranger."
+
+"I can do what I will with my own," retorted Simon. "Look here,
+Susanna, haven't you had that girl, Matabel, with you in place of
+a child all these years? Don't she work like a slave? Don't she
+thoroughly understand the business? Has she ever left the hogs
+unmeated, or the cow unmilked? If it pleases you to go to market,
+to be away for a week, a fortni't you know that when you come
+home again everything will be just as you left it, the house
+conducted respectable, and every drop o' ale and ounce o' 'backy
+accounted for."
+
+"I don't deny that Matabel's a good girl. But what has that to do
+with the matter?"
+
+"What! Why everything. What hinders me leavin' the whole pass'l
+o' items, farm and Ship to her? She'll marry a stiff man as'll look
+after the farm, and she'll mind the public-house every mite as
+well as ever have you, old woman. That's a gal as knows chalk from
+cheese."
+
+Mrs. Verstage leaned back with a gasp of dismay and a cramp at
+her heart. She dropped her hands on her lap.
+
+"You ain't speaking serious, Simon?"
+
+"I might do wuss," said he; "and the wust I could do 'ad be to
+give everythin' to that wastrel, Iver, who don't know the vally of
+a good farm and of a well-established public-house. I don't want
+nobody after I'm dead and gone to see rack and ruin where all
+were plenty and good order both on land and in house, and that's
+what things would come to wi' Iver here."
+
+"Simon, he is a man now. He was a boy, and what he did as a boy
+he won't do as a man."
+
+"He's a dauber of paints still."
+
+The taverner stood up. "I'll go and cast an eye over the hay-field,"
+he said. "It makes me all of a rage like to think o' that boy."
+
+He threw away the broken pipe and walked off.
+
+Mrs. Verstage's brain spun like a teetotum; her heart turned cold.
+
+She was startled out of her musings by the voice of Mehetabel, who
+said, "Mother, it is so hot in the kitchen that I have come out to
+cool myself. Where is father? I thought I heard him talking with
+you?"
+
+"He's gone to the hay-field. He won't answer Iver's letter. He's
+just about as hard as one o' them Hammer Ponds when frozen to the
+bottom, one solid lump."
+
+"No, mother, he is not hard," said Mehetabel, "but he does not
+like to seem to give way all at once. You write to Iver and tell
+him to come here; that were better than for me to write. It will
+not seem right for him to be invited home by me. The words from
+home must be penned by you just as though spoke by you. He will
+return. Then you will see that father will never hold out when he
+has his own son before his eyes."
+
+"Did you hear all that father and I was sayin'?" asked the hostess,
+suspiciously.
+
+"I heard him call out against Iver because he altered the
+signboard; but that was done a long time agone."
+
+"Nuthin' else?"
+
+"And because he would never make a farmer nor an innkeeper."
+
+"It's a dratted noosence is this here porch," muttered the
+hostess. "It ort to 'a been altered ages agone, but lor', heart-alive,
+the old man be that stubborn and agin' all change. And you heard
+no more?"
+
+"I was busy, mother, and didn't give attention to what didn't
+concern me."
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Verstage, "only listened, did you, to what did
+concern you?"
+
+A fear had come over the hostess lest the girl had caught Simon's
+words relative to his notion, rather than intention, of bequeathing
+what he had away from Iver and to the child that had been adopted.
+
+Of course, Simon did not seriously purpose doing anything of the
+sort. It was foolish, inconsiderate of him to give utterance to
+such a thought, and that in such a place as the porch, whence
+every whisper was conveyed throughout the interior of the house.
+
+If Mehetabel had overheard his words, what a Fool's Paradise she
+might create for herself! How her head might be turned, and what
+airs she might give herself.
+
+Leave the farm, the inn, everything to a girl with whom they were
+wholly unconnected, and to the detriment of the son. Hoity-toity!
+such a thought must not be allowed to settle, to take root, to
+spring up and fructify.
+
+"Mother," said the girl, "I think that you ought to write to Iver
+with your own hand, though I know it will cost you trouble. But
+it need not be in many words. Say he must come himself without
+delay and see father. If Iver keeps at a distance the breakage
+will never be mended, the wound will never be healed. Father is
+a resolute man, but he is tender-hearted under all, and he's ever
+been wonderful kind to me."
+
+"Oh, yes, so long as he ain't crossed he's right enough with
+anyone," answered Mrs. Verstage quickly. She did not relish the
+allusion to the old man's kindness towards Mehetabel, it seemed to
+her suspicious heart due to anticipation of what had been hinted
+by him. She considered a moment, and determined to have the whole
+matter out, and to dash any expectations the girl might have formed
+at once and for ever. A direct woman Mrs. Verstage had ever been.
+
+"Matabel," she said, and drew her lips together and contracted her
+brows, "whatever father may scheme about making a will, it's all
+gammon and nonsense. I don't know whether he's said any tomfoolery
+about it to you, or may do so in time to come. Don't think nuthin'
+of it. Why should he make a will? He has but Iver to whom he can
+leave what he has. If he don't make a will--where's the odds? The
+law will see to it; that everything goes to Iver, just as it ort."
+
+"You will write to Iver to come?"
+
+"Yes, I will. Matters can't be worse than they be, and they may
+come to a betterment. O dear life of me! What I have suffered all
+these years, parted from my only child."
+
+"I have tried to do what I could for you, dear mother."
+
+"Oh, yes"--the bitterness was still oozing up in the woman's heart,
+engalling her own mind--"that I know well enough. But then you
+ain't my flesh and blood. You may call me mother, and you may
+speak of Simon as father, but that don't alter matters, no more
+nor when Samuel Doit would call the cabbage plants broccaloes did
+it make 'em grow great flower heads like passon's wigs. Iver is
+my son, my very own child. You, Matabel, are only--"
+
+"Only what, mother?"
+
+"Only a charity girl."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+BIDEABOUT.
+
+
+The words were hardly spoken before a twinge of conscience made
+Mrs. Verstage aware that she had given pain to the girl who had
+been to her as a daughter.
+
+Yet she justified herself to herself with the consideration that
+it was in the end kindest to cut down ruthlessly any springing
+expectation that might have started to life at the words of Simon
+Verstage. The hostess cast a glance at Mehetabel, and saw that her
+face was quivering, that all color had gone out of her cheeks, that
+her hands were contracted as with the cramp.
+
+"I had no wish to hurt you," said the landlady; "but facks are
+facks, and you may pull down the blinds over 'em wi'out putting
+them out o' existence. There's Laura Tickner--got a face like a
+peony. She sez it's innade modesty; but we all knows it's
+arrysippelas, and Matthew Maunder tells us his nose comes from
+indigestion; but it's liquor, as I've the best reason to know.
+Matabel, I love you well, but always face facks. You can't get rid
+of facks any more than you can get rid of fleas out o' poultry."
+
+Mrs. Verstage disappeared through the doorway. Mehetabel seated
+herself on the bench. She could not follow the hostess, for her
+limbs trembled and threatened to give way.
+
+She folded her arms on her lap, and leaned forward, with her eyes
+on the ground.
+
+"A charity girl! Only a charity girl!"
+
+She said the words to herself again and again. Her eyes burnt; a
+spray hung on her eyelids. Her lips were contracted with pain,
+spasms ran through her breast.
+
+"Only a charity girl! She'd never, never a'sed that had she loved
+me. She don't." Then came a sob. Mehetabel tried to check it, but
+could not, and the sound of that sob passed through the house.
+It was followed by no other.
+
+The girl recovered herself, leaned back against the wall, and
+looked at the twilight sky.
+
+There was no night now. The season was near midsummer:--
+
+  "Barnaby bright,
+   All day and no night."
+
+Into the luminous blue sky Mehetabel looked steadily, and did
+battle with her own self in her heart.
+
+That which had been said so shortly was true; had it been wrapped
+up in filagree--through all disguise the solid unpleasant truth
+would remain as core. If that were true, then why should she be
+so stung by the few words that contained the truth?
+
+It was not the words that had hurt her--she had heard them often
+at school--it was that "Mother" had said them. It was the way in
+which they had been uttered.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had ever been kind to the girl; more affectionate
+when she was quite a child than when she became older. Gradually
+the hostess had come to use her, and using her as a servant, to
+regard her in that light.
+
+Susanna Verstage was one of those women to whom a baby is almost
+a necessity, certainly a prime element of happiness. As she
+philosophically put it, "Men likes 'baccy; wimin likes babies;
+they was made so;" but the passion for a baby was doubly strong
+in the heart of the landlady. As long as Mehetabel was entirely
+dependent, the threads that held her to the heart of the hostess
+were very strong, and very many, but so soon as she became
+independent, these threads were relaxed. The good woman had a
+blunt and peremptory manner, and she at times ruffled the girl by
+sharpness of rebuke; but never previously had she alluded to her
+peculiar position and circumstances in such a galling manner.
+
+Why had she done this now? Why gone out of her way to do so?
+
+Mehetabel thought how wonderful it was that she, a stranger,
+should be in that house, treated almost, though not wholly, as
+its child, whereas the son of the house was shut out from
+it,--that against him only was the door fast, which was held
+open with invitation to every one else.
+
+It was the thought of this contrast, perhaps, that had been
+working in Mrs. Verstage's mind, and had provoked the impatience
+and occasioned the cruel words.
+
+"Well," said Mehetabel to herself, "I must face it. I have only
+the name that Iver gave me in the barn. I have no father, no
+mother, and no other name than that which I am given in charity."
+She looked at her gown. "I owe that to charity;" at her hands--"My
+flesh is nourished out of charity." She wiped her eyes--the very
+kerchief was a gift to her in charity. "It is so," she said. "I
+must bear the thought and get accustomed to it. I was given a
+name in charity, and in charity my father was granted a grave. All
+I can look to as in some fashion my own--and yet they are not my
+own--be the headstone in the churchyard to show how my real
+father was killed, and the gallows on Hind Head, with the chains,
+to tell where those hung who killed him. 'Tain't every one can
+show that." She raised her head with a flash of pride. Human
+Nature must find something on which to plume itself. If nothing
+else can be found, then a murdered father and a gallows for the
+murderers served.
+
+Mehetabel was a handsome girl, and she knew it. She could not
+fail to know it, situated as she was. The men who frequented the
+public house would not leave a girl long in doubt whether she
+were comely or the reverse.
+
+But Mehetabel made small account of her appearance. No youth of
+the neighborhood had won his way into her heart; and she blew away
+the compliments lavished upon her as the men blew away the froth
+from their tankards. What mattered it whether she were good-looking
+or not, so long as she was only Mehetabel, without a surname,
+without kin, without a penny!
+
+When Iver had run away from home she had done all that lay in her
+power to comfort the mother. She had relieved the landlady of half
+of her work; she had stayed up her heart when downcast, despondent.
+She had talked with her of the absent son, whose name the father
+would not allow to be mentioned in his hearing; had encouraged her
+with hopes, and, by her love, had sought to compensate for the loss.
+
+It was due to her that the Ship Inn had a breath of youth and
+cheerfulness infused into it. But for her, the absence and
+indifference of the host, and the moroseness of the disappointed
+hostess, would have driven custom away.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had found her useful, even necessary. She could
+hardly endure to be for an hour without her, and she had come to
+rely upon her more and more in the conduct of business, especially
+such as required sufficient scholarship to do correspondence and
+keep accounts.
+
+The hostess was proud of the girl's beauty and engaging manner,
+and took to herself some of the credit of having her adopted
+daughter regarded as the belle of Thursley. She was pleased to
+see that the men admired her, not less than the women envied her.
+There was selfishness in all this. Mrs. Verstage's heart was
+without sincerity. She had loved Mehetabel as a babe, because the
+child amused her. She liked her as a girl, because serviceable to
+her, and because it flattered her vanity to think that her adopted
+daughter should be so handsome.
+
+Now, however, that the suspicion was engendered that her own son
+might be set aside in favor of the adopted child, through Simon's
+partiality, at once her maternal heart took the alarm, and turned
+against the girl in resolution to protect the rights of Iver,
+Mehetabel did not understand the workings of Susanna Verstage's
+mind. She felt that the regard entertained for her was troubled.
+
+She had heard Simon Verstage's remark about constituting her his
+heir, but had so little considered it as seriously spoken, and
+as embodying a resolution, that it did not now occur to her as an
+explanation of the altered conduct of the "mother" towards herself.
+
+Mehetabel felt instinctively that a vein of truer love throbbed
+in the old host than in his wife; and now, with a hunger for some
+word of kindness after the rebuff she had sustained, she stood up
+and walked in the direction of the hayfield to meet Simon Verstage
+on his return journey.
+
+As she stepped along she heard a footfall behind her. The step
+was quickened, and a hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned,
+and exclaimed sharply:
+
+"Bideabout--what do you want?"
+
+"You, Matabel."
+
+A man stayed her: the Broom-Squire.
+
+"What with me?"
+
+"I want you to listen to what I have to say."
+
+"I can spare you a minute, not more. I expect father. He has gone
+to look at the hay."
+
+Mehetabel disengaged her shoulder from his grasp. She stepped
+back. She had no liking for the Broom-Squire. Indeed, he inspired
+her with a faint, undefined repugnance.
+
+Jonas was now a middle-aged man, still occupying his farm in the
+Punch-Bowl, making brooms, selling holly, cultivating his patch of
+land, laying by money and still a bachelor.
+
+He had rounded shoulders and a short neck; this made him thrust his
+head forward in a peering manner, like a beast of prey watching for
+a victim. His eyes were keen and restless. His hair was short-cut,
+and his ears projected from the sides of his head like those of a
+bat. Otherwise he was not a bad-looking man. His features were
+good, but his expression was unpleasant. The thin lip was curled
+contemptuously; and he had a trick of thrusting forth his sharp
+tongue to wet his lips before making a spiteful remark.
+
+He was a frequent visitor at the Ship, and indeed his inclination
+for liquor was his one weakness.
+
+Of late he had been much oftener at this inn than formerly.
+Latterly he had been profuse in his compliments to Mehetabel,
+which she had put aside, much as she brushed empty tankards, and
+tobacco ash off the table. He was no welcome guest. His bitter
+tongue was the occasion of strife, and a brawl was no infrequent
+result of the appearance of the Broom-Squire in the public house.
+Sometimes he himself became the object of attack, but usually he
+succeeded in setting others by the ears and in himself escaping
+unmolested. But on one of the former occasions he had lost two
+front teeth, and through the gap thus formed he was wont to thrust
+his tongue.
+
+"I am glad to have caught you," said the Broom-Squire; "and caught
+you alone--it is hard to find you so--as it's hard to find a
+treacle cask without flies round it."
+
+"What have you to say?"
+
+"You have always slipped out of my way when I thought I had you."
+
+"I did not know that you had a fancy to catch me alone." She made
+as if to proceed on her course.
+
+"Stand still," said he imperiously. "It must come out. Do not
+look at me with that keep-your-distance air. I mean no incivility.
+I care a deal more for you than for any one else."
+
+"That is not saying much."
+
+"I care for you alone in all the world."
+
+"Except yourself."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He breathed as though relieved of a burden.
+
+"Look here, Mehetabel, I've not been a marrying man. Wife and
+family cost too much. I've been saving and not spending. But this
+can't go on forever. All good things come to an end some time. It
+has come to this, I must have a woman to mind the house. My sister
+and I have had a tiff. You know her, Sarah Rocliffe. She won't do
+as I like, and what I want. So I'll just shut the door in her face
+and make a long nose at her, and say, 'Got some one else now.'"
+
+"So," exclaimed Mehetabel, the color rushing to her cheeks in
+anger, "you want me as your housekeeper that you may make a nose
+at your sister and deny her the house."
+
+"I won't have any other woman in my house but yourself."
+
+"You will have to wait a long time before you get me."
+
+"I mean all fair and honorable," said Jonas. "I didn't say
+housekeeper, did I? I say wife. If any chap had said to me,
+Bideabout, you are putting your feet into a rabbit net, and will
+be caught, and--'" he made a sign as if knocking a rabbit's neck
+to kill it--"I say, had any one said that, I'd a' laughed at him
+as a fool."
+
+"You may laugh at him still," said the girl. "No one that I know
+has set any net for you."
+
+"You have," he sniggered. "Aye, and caught me."
+
+"I!" laughed Mehetabel contemptuously, "I spread a net for you?
+It is you who pursue and pester me. I never gave you a thought
+save how to make you keep at arm's length."
+
+"You say that to me." His color went.
+
+"It is ridiculous, it is insulting of you to speak to me of netting
+and catching. What do I want of you save to be let go my way."
+
+"Come, Mehetabel," said the Broom-Squire caressingly, "we won't
+quarrel about words. I didn't mean what you have put on me. I want
+you to come and be my wife. It isn't only that I've had a quarrel
+with my sister. There's more than that. There is something like a
+stoat at my heart, biting there, and I have no rest till you
+say--'I'll have you, Jonas!'"
+
+"The stoat must hang on. I can't say that."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I am not obliged to give a reason."
+
+"Will you not have me?"
+
+"No, Bideabout, I will not. How can I take an offer made in this
+way? When you ask me to enable you to be rude to your sister, when
+you speak of me as laying traps for you; and when you stay me on
+my road as if you were a footpad."
+
+Again she made an attempt to go in the direction of the hayfield.
+Her bosom was heaving with anger, her nostrils were quivering.
+
+Again he arrested her.
+
+"If you will not let me go," said she, "I will call for help. Here
+comes father. He shall protect me."
+
+"I'll have you yet," said the Broom-Squire with a sneer. "If it
+ain't you that nets me, then it'll be I net you, Mehetabel."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+INTO THE NET.
+
+
+"We must have cake and ale for the hayfield," said Mrs. Verstage.
+"Of ale there be plenty in the house, but for cake, I must bake.
+It ort to ha' been done afore. Fresh cakes goes twice as fast as
+stale, but blessin's on us, the weather have been that changeable
+I didn't know but I might put it off to anywhen."
+
+This was said on the morrow of the occurrence just described.
+
+Whilst Mrs. Verstage was engaged in the baking she had not time for
+much talk, but she asked abruptly: "What's that as to Bideabout?
+Father said he'd come on you and him, and you was both in a sort
+o' take on."
+
+Mehetabel had no reason for reticence, and she told the hostess of
+the suit of the Broom-Squire, and of the manner in which he made
+his proposal. Mrs. Verstage said nothing at the time. She was
+occupied--too occupied for comments. But when the cake was in the
+oven, she seated herself at the kitchen table, with a sigh of
+relief, and beckoned to Mehetabel to do the same.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was warm, both on account of the heat of the morning,
+but also because she had been hard at work. She fanned herself
+with a dish, and as she did so looked at the girl.
+
+"So--the Broom-Squire offered himself, did he?"
+
+Mehetabel made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+"Well," continued the hostess, "if he weren't so good a customer
+here he would be suitable enough. But yet a good wife will soon
+cure him. A hudger (bachelor) does things as a married man don't
+allow himself."
+
+Mehetabel looked questioningly at the landlady.
+
+
+She said: "There must be good stuff in a man, or marriage won't
+bring it out."
+
+"Who says there ain't good stuff in Bideabout?"
+
+"I have never seen the glint of it."
+
+"You don't see the iron ore as lies under the sand, but there it
+is, and when wanted it can be worked. I like a man to show his
+wust side forefront. There's many a man's character is like his
+wesket, red plush and flowers in front and calico in rags behind
+hid away under his coat."
+
+Mehetabel was surprised, troubled. She made no response, but color
+drifted across her face.
+
+"After all," pursued Mrs. Verstage, "he may ha' come here not after
+liquor, but drawed by you. Then you see he's been alone all these
+years, and scriptur' saith it ain't good for a man to be that.
+They goes sour and mouldy--men do if unmarried. I think you'd be
+fulfillin' your dooty, and actin' accordin' to the word o' God if
+you took him."
+
+"I--mother! I!" The girl shrank back. "Mother, let him take some
+one else. I don't want him."
+
+"But he wants you, and he don't want another. Matabel, it's all
+moonshine about leap year. The time never comes when the woman can
+ax the man. It's tother way up--and Providence made it so.
+Bideabout has a good bit o' land, for which he is his own landlord,
+he has money laid by, so folks tell. You might do worse. It's a
+great complerment he's paid you. You see he's well off, and you
+have nothin'. Men generally, nowadays, look out for wives that have
+a bit o' money to help buy a field, or a cow, or nothin' more than
+a hog. You see Bideabout's above that sort o' thing. If you can't
+have butter to your bread, you must put up wi' drippin."
+
+"I'm not going to take Bideabout," said Mehetabel.
+
+"I don't say you should. But he couldn't a took a fancy to you
+wi'out Providence ordainin' of it."
+
+"And if I don't like him," threw in the girl, half angry, half
+in tears, "I suppose that is the doings of Providence too?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage evaded a reply to this. She said: "I do not press
+you to take him. You are kindly welcome to stay on with us a bit,
+till you've looked about you and found another. We took you up as
+a babe and cared for you; but the parish allowance was stopped
+when you was fourteen. It shan't be said of us that bare we took
+you in and bare we turn you out. But marry you must. It's ordained
+o' nature. There's the difference atwixt a slug and a snail. The
+snail's got her own house to go into. A slug hasn't. When she's
+uncomfortable she must go underground."
+
+The hostess was silent for awhile. Mehetabel said nothing. Her
+cheeks burned. She was choking.
+
+Mrs. Verstage went on: "There was Betsy Purvis--she was a bit of
+a beauty, and gave herself airs. She wouldn't have Farmer James,
+as his legs was so long, he looked like a spider--and she wouldn't
+have Odger Kay, as his was too short--he looked like a dachs-dog.
+It came in the end she married Purvis, who had both his legs shot
+off in the wars, 'cos and why? she couldn't get another. She'd
+been too finical in choosin'."
+
+"Are you tired of me?" gasped the girl. "Do you wish to be rid
+of me?"
+
+"Not at all," answered the landlady. "It's becos we're so fond
+of you, father and I, that we want to see you well settled."
+
+"And father--does he wish me to take Bideabout?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage hesitated.
+
+"He hasn't said that right out. You see he didn't know for certain
+Jonas were hoppin' about you. But he'd be tremendous pleased to
+have you well married."
+
+"And you think I should be well married if I became Bideabout's
+wife?"
+
+"Of course. He's a great catch for the likes of you, who belong to
+nobody and to no place, properly. Beggars mustn't be choosers."
+
+Mehetabel sprang to her feet.
+
+"It is so. I am a beggar. I am only a charity girl, nothing else."
+
+She struck her head against the wall. "Let me beat my brains out
+if I am in your way. Why should I be thrown into the arms of any
+passer-by?
+
+"You misjudge and misunderstand me," said Mrs. Verstage, hotly.
+"Because you have been with me so long, and because I love you, I
+want to see you settled. Because I can't give you a prince in
+spangles and feathers you fly out against me."
+
+"I don't ask for a prince, only to be let alone. I am happy here,
+as a girl, working for you and father."
+
+"But we shall not live forever. We are growing old, and shall
+have to give up. Iver may return any day, and then--"
+
+The hostess became crimson to the temples; she knew how handsome
+the girl was, doubly handsome she seemed now, in her heat and
+agitation, and it occurred to Mrs. Verstage that Iver with his
+artistic appreciation of the beautiful, might also think her
+handsome, that the old childish fancy for each other might spring
+to new and to stronger life, and that he might even think of
+Mehetabel as a wife. That would never, never do. For Iver something
+better must be found than a girl without means, friends, and name.
+
+"What then?" asked Mehetabel. "Suppose Iver do come here and keep
+the inn. I can go with you wherever you go, and if you become old,
+I can attend to you in your old age."
+
+"You are good," said Mrs. Verstage; but although her words were
+gracious, her manner was chilling. "It is for us to think of you
+and your future, not you to consider for us. The Broom-Squire--"
+
+"I tell you, mother, I don't like him."
+
+"You must hear me out. You do not love him. Lawk-a-jimmeny! we
+can't all marry for love. You don't suppose I was in love with
+Simon when I took him? I was a good-looking wench in my day, and
+I had many admirers, and were more of tragedy-kings than Simon.
+But I had sense, and I took him for the sake of the Ship Inn and
+the farm. We have lived happy together, and if it hadn't been for
+that matter of Iver, there'd not ha' been a cloud between us. Love
+grows among married folk, like chickweed in a garden. You can't
+keep it out. It is thick everywhere, and is never out o' season.
+I don't say there ain't a ripping of it out one day--but it comes
+again, twice as thick on the morrow, and much good it does! I don't
+think I cared for Simon when I took him any more than you care for
+Jonas, but I took him, and we've fared well enough together." After
+a pause the hostess said, "Talkin' of marriage, I have a fine
+scheme in my head. If Iver comes back, as I trust he will, I want
+him to marry Polly Colpus."
+
+"Polly Colpus, mother!"
+
+"She's James Colpus's only child, and will come in for money.
+James Colpus is a wonderful thrivin' man."
+
+"But she has a moustache."
+
+"What of that, if she have money?"
+
+"But--Iver--if he couldn't bear an ugly signboard to the house,
+will he relish an ugly figure-head to his wife within it?"
+
+"She has gold which will gild her moustache."
+
+"I don't know," said Mehetabel; "Iver wouldn't take the business
+at his father's wish, will he take a wife of his mother's
+providing?"
+
+"He will know which side his bread is buttered better than some
+persons I could name."
+
+"I fancy when folk look out for wives, they don't borrow their
+mother's eyes."
+
+"You cross me in everything to-day," said the hostess, peevishly.
+
+Mehetabel's tears began to flow.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was a woman who did not need much time or much
+balancing to arrive at a determination, and when she had formed
+her resolution, she clung to it with the same tenacity as her
+husband did to his.
+
+Her maternal jealousy had been roused, and the maternal instinct
+is the strongest that exists in the female nature. Many a woman
+would allow herself to be cut to bits for her child. But not only
+will she sacrifice herself without hesitation, but also any one
+else who in any way hinders the progress of her schemes for the
+welfare of her child. Mrs. Verstage entertained affection for the
+girl, an affection very real, yet not to the extent of allowing it
+to blind her to the true interests of her own son. She was roused
+to jealousy by the partiality of Simon for his adopted daughter, to
+the prejudice of Iver. And now she was gravely alarmed lest on the
+return of Iver, the young affection of the two children for each
+other should take a new spell of life, assume a new form, and
+intensify into passion.
+
+Accordingly she was resolved, if possible, to remove the girl
+from the Ship before the arrival of Iver. The proposal of the
+Broom-Squire was opportune, and she was anxious to forward his
+suit as the best means for raising an insuperable barrier between
+her son and the girl, as well as removing her from Simon, who,
+with his characteristic wrong-headedness, might actually do what
+he had proposed.
+
+"I don't see what you're crying about," said Mrs. Verstage,
+testily. "It ain't no matter to you whether Iver takes Polly
+Colpus or a Royal Princess."
+
+"I don't want him to be worried, mother, when he comes home with
+having ugly girls rammed down his throat. If you begin that with
+him he'll be off again."
+
+"Oh! you know that, do you?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"I know what this means!" exclaimed the angry woman, losing all
+command over her tongue. "It means, in plain English, just
+this--'I'm going to try, by hook or by crook, to get Iver for
+myself.' That's what you're driving at, hussy! But I'll put you
+by the shoulders out of the door, or ever Iver comes, that you
+may be at none of them tricks. Do you think that because he
+baptized you, that he'll also marry you?"
+
+Mehetabel sprang through the door with a cry of pain, of wounded
+pride, of resentment at the injustice wherewith she was treated,
+of love in recoil, and almost ran against the Broom-Squire. Almost
+without power to think, certainly without power to judge, fevered
+with passion to be away out of a house where she was so misjudged,
+she gasped, "Bideabout! will you have me now--even now. Mother
+turns me out of doors."
+
+"Have you? To be sure I will," said Jonas; then with a laugh out
+of the side of his mouth, he added in an undertone, "Don't seem to
+want that I should set a net; she runs right into my hands. Wimen
+is wimen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+A SURNAME AT LAST.
+
+
+When Simon Verstage learned that Mehetabel was to be married to
+the Broom-Squire, he was not lightly troubled. He loved the girl
+more dearly than he was himself aware. He was accustomed to see
+her about the house, to hear her cheerful voice, and to be welcomed
+with a pleasant smile when he returned from the fields. There was
+constitutional ungraciousness in his wife. She considered it
+lowering to her dignity, or unnecessary, to put on an amiable face,
+and testify to him pleasure at his presence. Little courtesies are
+dear to the hearts of the most rugged men; Simon received them
+from Mehetabel, and valued them all the more because withheld
+from him by his wife. The girl had known how to soothe him when
+ruffled, she had forestalled many of his little requirements, and
+had exercised a moderating influence in the house. Mrs. Verstage,
+in her rough, imperious fashion, had not humored him, and many a
+domestic storm was allayed by the tact of Mehetabel.
+
+Simon had never been demonstrative in his affection, and it was
+only now, when he was about to lose her, that he became aware how
+dear she was to his old heart. But what could he do, now that she
+had given herself to Jonas Kink? Of the manner in which this had
+been brought about he knew nothing. Had he been told he would
+have stormed, and insisted on the engagement coming to an end. But
+would this have mended matters? Would it not have made Mehetabel's
+position in the house only more insupportable?
+
+He remained silent and depressed for a week, and when the girl
+was in the room followed her with his eyes, with a kindly,
+regretful light in them. When she passed near him, he held out
+his hand, took hers, squeezed it, and said, "Matabel, we shall
+miss you:--wun'erful--wun'erful!"
+
+"Dear father!" she would answer, and return the pressure of his
+hand, whilst her eyes filled.
+
+"I hope you'll be happy," he would say; then add, "I suppose you
+will. Mother says so, and wimen knows about them sort o' things
+better nor we."
+
+To his wife Simon said, "Spare nothing. Give her a good outfit,
+just as if she was our own daughter. She has been a faithful
+child, and has saved us the expense and worrit of a servant,
+and I will not have it said--but hang it! what odds to me what
+is said? I will not have her feel that we begrudge her aught.
+She has no father and mother other than we, and we must be to
+her all that we can."
+
+"Leave that to me," said the wife.
+
+Mainly through the instrumentality of Mrs. Verstage the marriage
+was hastened on; it was to be as soon as the banns had been called
+thrice.
+
+"Wot's the good o' waitin'?" asked Mrs. Verstage, "where all is
+pleasant all round, and all agreed?"
+
+Mehetabel was indifferent, even disposed to have the wedding
+speedily, there was no advantage in postponing the inevitable. If
+she were not wanted in the Ship, her presence was desired in the
+Punch-Bowl, if not by all the squatters there, at all events by
+the one most concerned.
+
+She felt oppression in the house in which she had been at home
+from infancy, and was even conscious that her adopted mother was
+impatient to be rid of her. Mehetabel was proud, too proud to
+withdraw from her engagement, to acknowledge that she had rushed
+into it without consideration, and had accepted a man whom she
+did not love. Too proud, in fine, to continue one day longer
+than need be, eating the bread of charity.
+
+Seamstresses were summoned, and every preparation made that
+Mehetabel should have abundance of clothing when she left the Ship.
+
+"Look here, Susanna," said Simon, "you'll have made a pocket in
+them gownds, you mind."
+
+"Yes, Simon, of course."
+
+"Becos I means to put a little purse in for Matabel when she
+goes from us--somethin' to be her own. I won't have the little
+wench think we han't provided for her."
+
+"How much?" asked Mrs. Verstage, jealously.
+
+"That I'm just about considerin'," answered the old man cautiously.
+
+"Don't you do nothin' reckless and unraysonable, Simon. What will
+she want wi' money? Hasn't she got the Broom-Squire to pay for
+all and everything?"
+
+During the three weeks that intervened between the precipitate
+and ill-considered engagement and the marriage, Mehetabel hardly
+came to her senses. Sometimes when occupied with her work in the
+house a qualm of horror came over her and curdled the blood in her
+heart; then with a cold sweat suffusing her brow, and with pale
+lips, she sank on a stool, held her head between her palms, and
+fought with the thoughts that rose like spectres, and with the
+despair that rolled in on her soul like a dark and icy tide. The
+words spoken by the hostess had made it impossible for her to
+retrace her steps. She could not understand what had come over
+Mrs. Verstage to induce her to address her as she had. The after
+conduct of the hostess was such as showed her that although wishing
+her well she wished her away, and that though having a kindly
+feeling towards her, she would not admit a renewal of former
+relations. They might continue friends, but only on condition of
+being friends at a distance. Mehetabel racked her brain to find in
+what manner she had given offence to the old woman, and could find
+none. She was thrust from the only bosom to which she had clung
+from infancy, without a reason that she could discover. Meanwhile
+she drew no nearer to Bideabout. He was delighted at his success,
+and laid aside for a while his bitterness of speech. But she did
+not admit him to nearer intimacy. His attempts at familiarity met
+with a chilling reception; the girl had to exercise self-restraint
+to prevent the repugnance with which she received his addresses
+from becoming obvious to him and others.
+
+Happily for her peace of mind, he was a good deal away, engaged in
+getting his house into order. It needed clearing out, cleansing
+and repairing. No money had been expended on dilapidations, very
+little soap and water on purification, since his mother's death.
+
+His sister, Mrs. Rocliffe, some years older than himself, living
+but a few yards distant, had done for him what was absolutely
+necessary, and what he had been unable to do for himself; but
+her interest had naturally been in her own house, not in his.
+
+Now that he announced to her that he was about to marry, Sarah
+Rocliffe was angry. She had made up her mind that Jonas would
+continue a "hudger," and that his house and land would fall to
+her son, after his demise. This was perhaps an unreasonable
+expectation, especially as her own conduct had precipitated the
+engagement; but it was natural. She partook of the surly disposition
+of her brother. She could not exist without somebody or something
+to fall out with, to scold, to find fault with. Her incessant
+recrimination had at length aroused in Jonas the resolve to cast
+her wholly from his dwelling, to have a wife of his own, and to
+be independent of her service.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe ascertained that she had overstepped the mark in
+quarrelling with her brother, but instead of blaming herself she
+turned the fault on the head of the inoffensive girl who was to
+supplant her. She resolved not to welcome her sister-in-law with
+even a semblance of cordiality.
+
+Nor were the other colonists of the Bowl favorably disposed. It
+was a tradition among them that they should inter-marry. This
+rule had once been broken through with disastrous results. The
+story shall be told presently.
+
+The squatter families of the Punch-Bowl hung together, and when
+Sarah Rocliffe took it in dudgeon that her brother was going to
+marry, then the entire colony of Rocliffes, Boxalls, Nashes, and
+Snellings adopted her view of the case, and resented the engagement
+as though it were a slight cast on them.
+
+As if the Bowl could not have provided him with a mate meet for
+him! Were there no good wenches to be found there, that he must
+go over the lips to look for a wife? The girls within the Bowl,
+thanks be, had all surnames and kindred. Matabel had neither.
+
+It was not long before Bideabout saw that his engagement to
+Mehetabel was viewed with disfavor by him immediate neighbors,
+but he was not the man to concern himself about their opinions.
+He threw about his jibes, which did not tend to make things
+better. The boys in the Bowl had concocted a jingle which they
+sang under his window, or cast at him from behind a hedge, and
+then ran away lest he should fall on them with a stick. This was
+their rhyme:--
+
+  "A harnet lived in an 'ollow tree,
+   A proper spiteful twoad were he.
+   And he said as married and 'appy he'd be;
+   But all folks jeered and laughed he-he!"
+
+Mehetabel's cheeks were pale, and her brows were contracted and
+her lips set as she went to Thursley Church on the wedding-day,
+accompanied by Mrs. Verstage and some village friends.
+
+Gladly would she have elected to have her marriage performed as
+quietly as possible, and at an hour and on a day to which none
+were privy save those most immediately concerned. But this
+did not suit the pride of the hostess, who was resolved on making
+a demonstration, of getting to herself the credit of having acted
+a generous and even lavish part towards the adopted child.
+
+Mehetabel held up her head, not with pride, but with resolution
+not to give way. Her brain was stunned. Thought would no more
+flow in it than veins of water through a frozen soil. All the
+shapes of human beings that passed and circled around her were
+as phantasms. In church she hardly gathered her senses to know
+when and what to respond.
+
+She could scarcely see the register through the mist that had
+formed over her eyes when she was required to sign her Christian
+name, or collect her thoughts to understand the perplexity of the
+parson, as to how to enter her, when she was without a surname.
+
+When congratulated with effusion by Mrs. Verstage, with courtesy
+by the Vicar, and boisterously by the boys and girls who were
+present, she tried to force a smile, but ineffectually, as her
+features were set inflexibly.
+
+The bridegroom kissed her cheek. She drew back as if she had been
+stung, as a sensitive plant shrinks from the hand that grasps it.
+
+The previous day had been one of rain, so also had been the night,
+with a patter of raindrops on the roof above Mehetabel's attic
+chamber, and a flow of tears beneath.
+
+During the morning, on the way to church, though there had been
+no rain, yet the clouds had hung low, and were threatening.
+
+They separated and were brushed aside as the wedding party issued
+from the porch, and then a flood of scorching sunlight fell over
+the bride and bridegroom. For the first time Mehetabel raised her
+head and looked up. The impulse was unconscious--it was to let
+light shine into her eyes and down into the dark, despairing
+chambers of her soul filled only with tears.
+
+The villagers in the churchyard murmured admiration; as she issued
+from the gates they cheered.
+
+Bideabout was elate; he was proud to know that the handsomest girl
+in the neighborhood was now his. It was rare for a sarcastic curl
+to leave his lips and the furrow to be smoothed on his brow. Such
+a rare occasion was the present. And the Broom-Squire had indeed
+secured one in whom his pride was justifiable.
+
+No one could say of Mehetabel that she had been frivolous and
+forward. Reserved, even in a tavern: always able to maintain her
+dignity; respecting herself, she had enforced respect from others.
+That she was hard-working, shrewd, thrifty, none who visited the
+Ship could fail to know.
+
+Many a lad had attempted to win her favor, and all had been
+repulsed. She could keep forward suitors at a distance without
+wounding their self-esteem, without making them bear her a grudge.
+She was tall, well-built and firmly knit. There was in her evidence
+of physical as well as of moral strength.
+
+Though young, Mehetabel seemed older than her years, so fully
+developed was her frame, so swelling her bosom, so set were her
+features.
+
+Usually the girl wore a high color, but of late this had faded
+out of her face, which had been left of an ashen hue. Her pallor,
+however, only gave greater effect to the lustre and profusion of
+her dark hair and to the size and to the velvet depth and softness
+of her hazel eyes.
+
+The girl had finely-moulded eyebrows, which, when she frowned
+through anger, or contracted them through care, met in one band,
+and gave a lowering expression to her massive brow.
+
+An urchin in the rear nudged a ploughboy, and said in a low tone,
+"Jim! The old harnet out o' the 'ollow tree be in luck to-day.
+Wot'll he do with her, now he's ketched a butterfly?"
+
+"Wot be he like to do?" retorted the bumpkin. "A proper spiteful
+twoad such as he--why, he'll rumple all the color and booty out
+o' her wings, and sting her till her blood runs pison."
+
+Then from the tower pealed the bells.
+
+Jonas pressed the arm of Mehetabel, and leering into her face,
+said: "Come, say a word o' thanks. Better late than never. At the
+last, through me, you've gotten a surname."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+UNEXPECTED.
+
+
+The wedding party was assembled at the Ship, which for this day
+concerned itself not with outsiders, but provided only for such as
+were invited to sit and drink, free of charge, to the health and
+happiness of bride and bridegroom.
+
+The invitation had been extended to the kinsfolk of Jonas in the
+Punch-Bowl, as a matter of course; but none had accepted, one had
+his farm, another his business, and a third could not go unless his
+wife let him.
+
+Consequently the bridegroom was badly supported. He was not the man
+to make friends, and such acquaintances of his as appeared did
+so, not out of friendship, but in expectation of eating and drinking
+at the landlord's table.
+
+This angered Jonas, who, in church, on looking around, had noticed
+that his own family had failed to attend, but that they should
+fail also at the feast was what surprised him.
+
+"It don't matter a rush," scoffed he in Mehetabel's ear, "we can
+get along without 'em, and if they won't come to eat roast duck
+and green peas, there are others who will and say 'Thank'y.'"
+
+The announcement of Jonas's engagement had been indeed too bitter
+a morsel for his sister to swallow. She resented his matrimonial
+project as a personal wrong, as a robbery committed on the Rocliffes.
+Her husband was not in good circumstances; in fact, the family
+had become involved through a marriage, to which allusion has
+already been made; and had not thereafter been able to recover
+from it.
+
+She had felt the pressure of debt, and the struggle for existence.
+It had eaten into her flesh like a canker, and had turned her
+heart into wormwood. In her pinched circumstances, even the pittance
+paid by her brother for doing his cooking and washing had been a
+consideration. This now was to be withdrawn.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe had set her ambition on the acquisition of her
+brother's estate, by which means alone, as far as she could see,
+would the family be enabled to shake off the incubus that oppressed
+it. Content in her own lifetime to drudge and moil, she would have
+gone on to the end, grumbling and fault-finding, indeed, but
+satisfied with the prospect that at some time in the future her
+son would inherit the adjoining farm and be lifted thereby out of
+the sorry position in which was his father, hampered on all sides,
+and without cheeriness.
+
+But this hope was now taken from her. Jonas was marrying a young
+and vigorous wife, and a family was certain to follow.
+
+The woman had not the command over herself to veil her feelings,
+and put on a semblance of good humor, not even the grace to put in
+an appearance at the wedding.
+
+The story must now be told which accounts for the embarrassed
+circumstances of the Rocliffe family.
+
+This shall be done by means of an extract from a periodical of the
+date of the event which clouded the hitherto flourishing condition
+of the Rocliffes. The periodical from which the quotation comes is
+"The Royal Magazine, or Gentleman's Monthly Companion" for 1765.
+
+"A few weeks ago a gentlewoman, about twenty-five years of age,
+applied to a farmer and broom-maker, near Hadleigh, in Hants [1] for
+a lodging, telling them that she was the daughter of a nobleman,
+and forced from her father's house by his ill-treatment. Her manner
+of relating the story so affected the farmer that he took her in,
+and kindly entertained her.
+
+"In the course of conversation, she artfully let drop that she
+had a portion of L90,000, of which she should be possessed as soon
+as her friends in London knew where she was.
+
+"After some days' stay she told the farmer the best return in her
+power for this favor would be to marry his son, Thomas (a lad
+about eighteen), if it was agreeable to him. The poor old man was
+overjoyed at the proposal, and in a short time they were married;
+after which she informed her father-in-law she had great, interest
+at Court, and if he could for the present raise money to equip
+them in a genteel manner, she could procure a colonel's commission
+for her husband.
+
+"The credulous farmer thereupon mortgaged his little estate for
+L100, and everything necessary being bought for the new married
+couple, they took the rest of the money and set out for London,
+accompanied by three of the farmer's friends, and got to the Bear
+Inn, in the Borough, on Christmas eve; where they lived for about
+ten days in an expensive manner; and she went in a coach every
+morning to St. James's end of the town, on pretence of soliciting
+for her husband's commission, and to obtain her own fortune. But
+it was at length discovered that the woman was an impostor; and
+the poor country people were obliged to sell their horses by
+auction towards defraying the expenses of the inn before they
+could set out on their return home, which they did on foot, last
+Saturday morning."
+
+If the hundred pounds raised on mortgage had covered all the
+expenses incurred, the Rocliffes might have been satisfied.
+
+Unhappily they got further involved. They fell into the hands of
+a lawyer in Portsmouth, who undertook to see them righted, but the
+only advantage they gained from his intervention was the acquisition
+of certain information that the woman who had married Thomas had
+been married before.
+
+Accordingly Thomas was free, and he used his freedom some years
+later, when of a ripe age, to marry Sarah Kink, the sister of
+Bideabout.
+
+Rocliffe had never been able to shake himself free of the ridicule
+that attended to him, after the expedition to London, and what
+was infinitely more vexatious and worse to endure was the burden
+of debt that had then been incurred, and which was more than
+doubled through the activity of the lawyer by whom he had been
+inveigled into submitting himself and his affairs to him.
+
+As the eating and drinking proceeded, the Broom-Squire drank
+copiously, became noisy, boastful, and threw out sarcastic remarks
+calculated to hit those who ate and drank with him, but were mainly
+directed against those of his own family who had absented themselves,
+but to whose ears he was confident they would be wafted.
+
+Mehetabel, who saw that he was imbibing more than he could bear
+without becoming quarrelsome lost her pallor, and a hectic flame
+kindled in her cheek.
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked on uneasily. She was familiar with the moods
+of Bideabout, and feared the turn matters would take.
+
+Presently he announced that he would sing a song, and in harsh
+tones began:--
+
+  "A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall,
+   But Charlotte, my nymph, had no lodging at all.
+   And at a Broom-Squire's, in pitiful plight,
+   Did pray and beseech for a lodging one night,
+                            Derry-down, derry-down.
+
+  "She asked for admittance, her story to tell.
+   Of all her misfortunes, and what her befel,
+   Of her parentage high,--but so great was her grief,
+   Shed never a comfort to give her relief,
+                            Derry-down, derry-down. [2]
+
+"Now, look here," said Simon Verstage, interrupting the singer,
+"We all of us know that there ballet, pretty well. It's vastly
+long, if I remembers aright, something like fourteen verses; and
+I think we can do very well wi'out it to-night. I fancy your
+brother-inlaw, Thomas, mightn't relish it."
+
+"He's not here," said the Broom-Squire.
+
+"But I am here," said the landlord, "and I say that the piece is
+too long for singing, 'twill make you too hoarse to say purty
+speeches and soft things to your new missus, and it's a bit stale
+for our ears."
+
+"It's an ill bird that befouls its own nest," said a young fellow
+present.
+
+Bideabout overheard the remark. "What do you mean by that? Was
+that aimed at me?" he shouted and started to his feet.
+
+A brawl would have inevitably ensued, but for a timely interruption.
+
+In the door stood a well-dressed, good-looking young man, surveying
+the assembled company with a smile.
+
+Silence ensued. Bideabout looked round.
+
+Then, with a cry of joy, mingled with pain, Mrs. Verstage started
+from her feet.
+
+"It is Iver! my Iver!"
+
+In another moment mother and son were locked in each other's arms.
+
+The guests rose and looked questioningly at their host, before
+they welcomed the intruder.
+
+Simon Verstage remained seated, with his glass in his hand, gazing
+sternly into it. His face became mottled, red spots appeared on
+the temples, and on the cheekbones; elsewhere he was pale.
+
+Mehetabel went to him, placed her hand upon his, and said, in a
+trembling voice, "Dear father, this is my wedding day. I am about
+to leave you for good. Do not deny me the one and only request I
+make. Forgive Iver."
+
+The old man's lips moved, but he did not speak. He looked steadily,
+somewhat sternly, at the young man and mustered his appearance.
+
+Meanwhile Iver had disengaged himself from his mother's embrace,
+and he came towards his father with extended hand.
+
+"See," said he cheerily, "I am free to admit, and do it heartily,
+that I did wrong, in painting over the stern of the vessel, and
+putting it into perspective as far as my lights went. Father! I
+can remove the coat of paint that I put on, and expose that
+outrageous old stern again. I will do more. I will violate all
+the laws of perspective in heaven and earth, and turn the bows
+round also, so as to thoroughly show the ship's head, and make
+that precious vessel look like a dog curling itself up for a nap.
+Will that satisfy you?"
+
+All the guests were silent, and fixed their eyes anxiously on the
+taverner.
+
+Iver was frank in speech, had lost all provincial dialect, was
+quite the gentleman. He had put off the rustic air entirely. He
+was grown a very handsome fellow, with oval face, full hair on his
+head, somewhat curling, and his large brown eyes were sparkling
+with pleasure at being again at home. In his whole bearing there
+was self-confidence.
+
+"Simon!" pleaded Mrs. Verstage, with tears in her voice, "he's
+your own flesh and blood!"
+
+He remained unmoved.
+
+"Father!" said Mehetabel, clinging to his hand, "Dear, dear
+father! for my sake, whom you have loved, and whom you lose out
+of your house to-day."
+
+"There is my hand," said the old man.
+
+"And you shall have the ship again just as suits your heart,"
+said Iver.
+
+"I doubt," answered the taverner, "it will be easier to get the
+Old Ship to look what she ort, than it will be to get you to look
+again like a publican's son."
+
+The reconciliation on the old man's side was without cordiality,
+yet it was accepted by all present with cheers and handshakings.
+
+It was but too obvious that the modish appearance of his son had
+offended the old man.
+
+"Heaven bless me!" exclaimed Iver, when this commotion was somewhat
+allayed. He was looking with undisguised admiration and surprise
+at Mehetabel.
+
+"Why," asked he, pushing his way towards her, "What is the meaning
+of all this?"
+
+"That is Matabel, indeed," explained his mother. "And this is her
+wedding day."
+
+"You married! You, Matabel! And, to-day! The day of my return!
+Where is the happy man? Show him to me."
+
+His mother indicated the bridegroom. Mehetabel's heart was too
+full to speak; she was too dazed with the new turn of affairs to
+know what to do.
+
+Iver looked steadily at Jonas.
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, "Bideabout! Never, surely! I cannot mistake
+your face nor the look of your eyes. So, you have won the
+prize--you!"
+
+Still he looked at Jonas. He refrained from extending his hand in
+congratulation. Whether thoughtlessly or not, he put it behind his
+back. An expression passed over his face that the bride observed,
+and it sent the blood flying to her cheek and temples.
+
+"So," said Iver, and now he held out both hands, "Little Matabel,
+I have returned to lose you!"
+
+He wrung her hands, both,--he would not let them go.
+
+"I wish you all joy. I wish you everything, everything that your
+heart can desire. But I am surprised. I can't realize it all at
+once. My little Matabel grown so big, become so handsome--and,
+hang me, leaving the Old Ship! Poor Old Ship! Bideabout, I ought
+to have been consulted. I gave Matabel her name. I have certain
+rights over her, and I won't surrender them all in a hurry. Here,
+mother, give me a glass, 'tis a strange day on which I come home."
+
+Dissatisfaction appeared in his face, hardly to be expected in one
+who should have been in cloudless radiance on his return after
+years of absence, and with his quarrel with the father at an end.
+
+Now old acquaintances crowded about him to ask questions as to how
+he had lived during his absence, upon what he had been employed,
+how the world had fared with him, whether he was married, and if
+so, how many children he had got, and what were their respective
+ages and sexes, and names and statures.
+
+For a while bride and bridegroom were outside the circle, and
+Iver was the centre of interest and regard. Iver responded
+good-humoredly and pleaded for patience. He was hungry, he was
+thirsty, he was dusty and hot. He must postpone personal details
+till a more convenient season. Now his mind was taken up with the
+thought, not of himself, but of his old playmate, his almost
+sister, his--he might dare to call her, first love--who was
+stepping out of the house, out of his reach, just as he stepped
+back into it, strong with the anticipation of finding her there.
+Then raising his glass, and looking at Matabel, he said: "Here's
+to you, Matabel, and may you be very happy with the man of your
+choice."
+
+"Have you no good wish for me?" sneered the Broom-Squire.
+
+"For you, Bideabout," answered Iver, "I do not express a wish. I
+know for certainty that you, that any man, not may, but must be
+happy with such a girl, unless he be a cur."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HOME.
+
+
+Bideabout was driving his wife home.
+
+Home! There is no word sweeter to him who has created that reality
+to which the name belongs; but there is no word more full of vague
+fears to one who has it to create.
+
+Home to Bideabout was a rattle-trap farmhouse built partly of
+brick, mainly of timber, thatched with heather, at the bottom of
+the Punch-Bowl.
+
+It was a dwelling that served to cover his head, but was without
+pleasant or painful associations--a place in which rats raced and
+mice squeaked; a place in which money might be made and hoarded,
+but on which little had been spent. It was a place he had known
+from childhood as the habitation of his parents, and which now was
+his own. His childhood had been one of drudgery without cheerfulness,
+and was not looked back on with regret. Home was not likely to be
+much more to him in the future than it was in the present. More
+comfortable perhaps, certainly more costly. But it was other with
+Mehetabel.
+
+She was going to the unknown.
+
+As we shudder at the prospect of passing out of this world into
+that beyond the veil, so does many a girl shrink at the prospect
+of the beyond seen through the wedding ring.
+
+She had loved the home at the Ship. Would she learn to love the
+home in the Punch-Bowl?
+
+She had understood and made allowance for the humors of the
+landlord and landlady of the tavern; did she know those of her
+future associate in the farm? To many a maid, the great love that
+swells her heart and dazzles her brain carries her into the new
+condition on the wings of hope.
+
+Love banishes fear. Confidence in the beloved blots out all mistrust
+as to the future.
+
+But in this case there was no love, nothing to inspire confidence;
+and Mehetabel looked forward with vague alarm, almost with a
+premonition of evil.
+
+Jonas was in no mood for meditation. He had imbibed freely at the
+inn, and was heavy, disposed to sleep, and only prevented from
+dozing by the necessity he was under of keeping the lazy cob in
+movement.
+
+For if Jonas was in no meditative mood, the old horse was, and he
+halted at intervals to ponder over the load he was drawing, and
+ask why on this occasion he had to drag uphill two persons instead
+of one.
+
+The sun had set before the couple left the Ship.
+
+The road ascended, at first gradually, then at a more rapid incline.
+The cob could not be induced to trot by word or whip; and the walk
+of a horse is slower than that of a man.
+
+"It's bostall (a steep ascent, in the Wealden dialect) till we
+come to the gallows," muttered Jonas; "then we have the drove-road
+down into the Punch-Bowl."
+
+Mehetabel tightened her shawl about her shoulders and throat. The
+evening was chilly for the time of the year. Much rain had fallen,
+and the air was charged with moisture, that settled in cold dew on
+the cart, on the harness, on Bideabout's glazed hat, on the bride's
+clothing, bathing her, all things, as in the tears of silent sorrow.
+
+"One of us must get out and walk," said the bridegroom. "Old
+Clutch--that's the 'oss--is twenty-five, and there's your box and
+bundle behind."
+
+He made no attempt to dismount, but looked sideways at the bride.
+
+"If you'll pull up I'll get out and walk," she answered. "I shall
+be glad to do so. The dew falls like rain, and I am chilled to the
+marrow."
+
+"Right then," assented the Broom-Squire, and drew the rein.
+
+Mehetabel descended from her seat in the cart. In so doing
+something fell on the road from her bosom. She stooped and picked
+it up.
+
+"Wots that?" asked Jonas, and pointed to the article with his
+whip, that was flourished with a favor of white ribbons.
+
+"It is a present father has made me," answered Mehetabel. "I was
+in a hurry--and not accustomed to pockets, so I just put it into
+my bosom. I ought to have set it in a safer place, in the new
+pocket made to my gown. I'll do that now. Its money."
+
+"Money!" repeated Bideabout. "How much may it be?"
+
+"I have not looked."
+
+"Then look at it, once now (at once)."
+
+He switched the whip with its white favor about, but kept his eye
+on Mehetabel.
+
+"What did he give it you for?"
+
+"As a wedding present."
+
+"Gold, is it?"
+
+"Gold and notes."
+
+"Gold and notes. Hand 'em to me. I can count fast enough."
+
+"The sum is fifteen pounds--dear, kind, old man."
+
+"Fifteen pounds, is it? You might ha' lost it wi' your carelessness."
+
+"I'll not be careless now."
+
+"Good, hand it me."
+
+"I cannot do that, Jonas. It is mine. Father said to me I was to
+keep it gainst a rainy day."
+
+"Didn't you swear in church to endow me with all your worldly
+goods?" asked the Broom-Squire.
+
+"No, it was you who did that. I then had nothing."
+
+"Oh, was it so? I don't remember that. If you'd had them fifteen
+pounds then, and the passon had knowed about it, he'd ha' made you
+swear to hand it over to me--your lord and master."
+
+"There's nothing about that in the Prayer-book."
+
+"Then there ort to be. Hand me the money. You was nigh on losing
+the lot, and ain't fit to keep it. Fifteen pounds!"
+
+"I cannot give it to you, Bideabout; father told me it was to be
+my very own, I was not to let it go out of my hands, not even into
+yours, but to husband it."
+
+"Ain't I your husband?"
+
+"I do not mean that, to hoard it against an evil day. There is no
+saying when that may come. And I passed my word it should be so."
+
+He growled and said, "Look here, Matabel. It'll be a bostall road
+with you an' me, unless there's give on one side and take on the
+other."
+
+"Is all the give to be on my side, and the take on yours?"
+
+"In coorse. Wot else is matrimony? The sooner you learn that the
+better for peace."
+
+He whipped the cob, and the brute moved on.
+
+Mehetabel walked forward and outstripped the conveyance. Old Clutch
+was a specially slow walker. She soon reached that point at which
+moorland began, without hedge on either side. Trees had ceased to
+stud the heathy surface.
+
+Before her rose the ridge that culminated where rose the gallows,
+and stood inky black against the silvery light of declining day
+behind them.
+
+To the north, in the plain gleamed some ponds.
+
+Curlew were piping sadly.
+
+Mehetabel was immersed in her own thoughts, glad to be by herself.
+Jonas had not said much to her in the cart, yet his presence had
+been irksome. She thought of the past, of her childhood along with
+Iver, of the day when he ran away. How handsome he had become! What
+an expression of contempt had passed over his countenance when he
+looked at Bideabout, and learned that he was the bridegroom--the
+happy man who had won her! How earnestly he had gazed into her
+eyes, till she was compelled to lower them!
+
+Was Iver going to settle at the Ship? Would he come over to the
+Punch-Bowl to see her? Would he come often and talk over happy
+childish days? There had been a little romance between them as
+children: long forgotten: now reviving.
+
+Her hand trembled as she raised it to her lips to wipe away the
+dew that had formed there.
+
+She had reached the highest point on the road, and below yawned
+the great crater-like depression, at the bottom of which lay the
+squatter settlement. A little higher, at the very summit of the
+hill, stood the gibbet, and the wind made the chains clank as it
+trifled with them. The bodies were gone, they had mouldered away,
+and the bones had fallen and were laid in the earth or sand beneath,
+but the gallows remained.
+
+Clink! clink! clank! Clank! clink! clink!
+
+There was rhythm and music, as of far-away bells, in the clashing
+of these chains.
+
+The gibbet was on Mehetabel's left hand; on the right was the abyss.
+
+She looked down into the cauldron, turning with disgust from the
+gallows, and yet was inspired with an almost equal repugnance at
+the sight of the dark void below.
+
+She was standing on the very spot where, eighteen years before,
+she had been found by Iver. He had taken her up, and had given her
+a name. Now she was taken up by another, and by him a new name
+was conferred upon her.
+
+"Come!" said Jonas; "it's all downhill, henceforth."
+
+Were the words ominous?
+
+He had arrived near her without her hearing him, so occupied had
+her mind been. As he spoke she uttered a cry of alarm.
+
+"Afraid?" he asked. "Of what?"
+
+She did not answer. She was trembling. Perhaps her nerves had
+been overwrought. The Punch-Bowl looked to her like the Bottomless
+Pit.
+
+"Did you think one of the dead men had got up from under the
+gallows, and had come down to talk with you?"
+
+She did not speak. She could not.
+
+"It's all a pass'l o' nonsense," he said. "When the dead be turned
+into dust they never come again except as pertaties or the like.
+There was Tim Wingerlee growed won'erful fine strawberries; they
+found out at last he took the soil in which he growed 'em from
+the churchyard. I don't doubt a few shovelfuls from under them
+gallows 'ud bring on early pertaties--famous. Now then, get up
+into the cart."
+
+"I'd rather walk, Jonas. The way down seems critical. It is dark
+in the Bowl, and the ruts are deep."
+
+"Get up, I say. There is no occasion to be afraid. It won't do
+to drive among our folk, to our own door, me alone, and you
+trudgin', totterin' behind. Get up, I say."
+
+Mehetabel obeyed.
+
+There was a fragrance of fern in the night air that she had inhaled
+while walking. Now by the side of Bideabout she smelt only the
+beer and stale tobacco that adhered to his clothes.
+
+"I am main glad," said he, "that all the hustle-bustle is over.
+I'm glad I'm not wed every day. Fust and last time I hopes. The
+only good got as I can see, is a meal and drink at the landlord's
+expense. But he'll take it out of me someways, sometime. Folks
+ain't liberal for nuthin'. 'Tain't in human nature."
+
+"It is very dark in the Punch-Bowl," said Mehetabel. "I do not see
+a glimmer of a light anywhere."
+
+"That's becos the winders ain't looking this way. You don't suppose
+it would be a pleasure to have three dead men danglin' in the wind
+afore their eyes all day long. The winders look downward, or else
+there's a fold of the hill or trees between. But I know where
+every house is wi'out seeing 'em. There's the Nashes', there's
+the Boxalls', there's the Snellings', there's my brother-in-law's,
+Thomas Rocliffe's, and down there be I."
+
+He pointed with his whip. Mehetabel could distinguish nothing
+beyond the white favor bound to his whip.
+
+"We're drivin to Paradise," said Jonas. And as to this remark she
+made no response, he explained--"Married life, you know."
+
+She said nothing.
+
+"It rather looks as if we were going down to the other place," he
+observed, with a sarcastic laugh. "But there it is, one or the
+other--all depends on you. It's just as you make it; as likely to
+be one as the other. Give me that fifteen pounds--and Paradise is
+the word."
+
+"Indeed, Jonas, do you not understand that I cannot go against
+father's will and my word?"
+
+The road, or rather track, descended along the steep side of the
+Punch-Bowl, notched into the sand falling away rapidly on the left
+hand, on which side sat Mehetabel.
+
+At first she had distinguished nothing below in the blackness, but
+now something like a dead man's eye looked out of it, and seemed
+to follow and observe her.
+
+"What is that yonder?" she asked.
+
+"Wot is wot?" he asked in reply.
+
+"That pale white light--that round thing glimmerin' yonder?"
+
+"There's water below," was his explanation of the phenomenon.
+
+In fact that which had attracted her attention and somewhat alarmed
+her, was one of the patches of water formed in the marshy bottom
+of the Punch-Bowl by the water that oozes forth in many springs
+from under the sandstone.
+
+The track now passed under trees.
+
+A glimpse of dull orange light, and old Clutch halted, unbidden.
+
+"Here we be, we two," said Jonas. "This is home. And Paradise, if
+you will."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+NOT PARADISE.
+
+
+At the moment that the cart halted, a black dog burst out of the
+house door, and flew at Mehetabel as she attempted to descend.
+
+"Ha, Tartar!" laughed Jonas. "The rascal seems to know his reign
+is over. Go back, Tartar. I'll thrash you till the favor off my
+whip is beat into your hide, if you don't be quiet. Hitherto he
+has guarded my house, when I have been from home. Now that will
+be your duty, Matabel. Can't keep a wife and a dog. 'Twould be
+too extravagant. Tartar! Down! This is your mistress--till I get
+rid of you."
+
+The dog withdrew reluctantly, continuing to growl and to show his
+fangs at Mehetabel.
+
+In the doorway stood Sally Rocliffe, the sister of Jonas. Though
+not so openly resentful of the intrusion as was Tartar, she
+viewed the bride with ill-disguised bad humor; indeed, without an
+affectation of cordiality.
+
+"I thought you was never coming," was Sarah's salutation. "Goodness
+knows, I have enough to do in my own house, and for my own people,
+not to be kept dancin' all these hours in attendance, because
+others find time for makin' fools of themselves. Now, I hope I
+shall not be wanted longer. My man needs his meals as much as
+others, and if he don't get 'em reglar, who suffers but I? Dooty
+begins at home. You might have had more consideration, and come
+earlier, Jonas."
+
+The woman accorded to Mehetabel but a surly greeting. The young
+bride entered the house. A single tallow dip was burning on the
+table, with a long dock to it, unsnuffed. The hearth was cold.
+
+"I didn't light a fire," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "you see it wouldn't
+do. Now you have come as mistress, it's your place to light the
+fire on the hearth. I've heard tell it's unlucky for any other
+body to do it. Not as I knows." She shrugged her shoulders. It
+seemed that this was a mere excuse put forward to disguise her
+indolence, or to veil her malevolence.
+
+Mehetabel looked around her.
+
+There were no plates. There was nothing to eat prepared on the
+kitchen table. No cloth; nothing whatever there, save the guttering
+candle.
+
+"I didn't lay out nuthin'," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "you see, how was
+I to say you'd want vittles? I suppose you have had as much as is
+good for you away where you come from--at the Ship. If you are
+hungry--there's cold rabbit pie in the larder, if it ain't gone
+bad. This weather has been bad for keepin' meat. There's bread in
+the larder, if you don't mind the rats and mice havin' been at it.
+That's not my fault. Jonas, he had some for his break'us, and
+never covered up the pan, so the varmin have got to it. There's
+ale, too, in a barrel, I know, but Jonas keeps the key to that
+lest I should take a sup. He begrudges me that, and expects me
+to work for him like a galley-slave."
+
+Then the woman was silent, looking moodily down. The floor was
+strewn with flakes of whitewash as though snow had fallen over it.
+
+"You see," said Mrs. Rocliffe, "Jonas would go to the expense of
+whitenin' the ceilin', just because you was comin.' It had done
+plenty well for father and mother, and I don't mind any time it
+were whitened afore, and I be some years the elder of Jonas. The
+ceiling was that greasy wi' smoke, that the whitewashin' as it
+dried 'as pealed off, and came down just about. You look up--the
+ceilin' is ten times worse than afore. It looks as if it were
+measly. I wouldn't sweep up the flakes as fell off just to let
+Jonas see what comes of his foolishness. I told him it would be so,
+but he wouldn't believe me, and now let him see for himself--there
+it is."
+
+With a sort of malignant delight the woman observed Mehetabel, and
+saw how troubled and unhappy she was.
+
+Again a stillness ensued. Mehetabel could hear her heart beat. She
+could hear no other sound. She looked through the room towards
+the clock. It was silent.
+
+"Ah, now there," said Sarah Rocliffe. "There be that, to be sure.
+Runned down is the weight. It wasn't proper for me now to wind up
+the clock. As you be the new mistress in the house, it is your
+place and dooty. I suppose you know that."
+
+Then from without Mehetabel heard the grunts of the sow in the
+stye that adjoined the house, and imparted an undesirable flavor
+to the atmosphere in it.
+
+"That's the sow in the pen," said Mrs. Rocliffe; "she's wantin'
+her meat. She hain't been galliwantin', and marryin', and bein'
+given in marriage. I'm not the mistress, and I've not the dooty to
+provide randans and crammins for other folks' hogs. She'll be goin'
+back in her flesh unless fed pretty smart. You'd best do that at
+once, but not in your weddin' dress. You must get acquainted
+together, and the sooner the better. She's regular rampagous wi'
+hunger."
+
+"Would you help me in with my box, Mrs. Rocliffe?" asked Mehetabel.
+"Jonas set it down by the door, and if I can get that upstairs I'll
+change my dress at once, and make the fire, clean the floor, wind
+up the clock, and feed the hog."
+
+"I've such a terrible crick in my back, I dussn't do it," answered
+Sarah Rocliffe. "Why, how much does that there box weigh? I wonder
+Jonas had the face to put it in the cart, and expect Clutch to draw
+it. Clutch didn't like it now, did he?"
+
+"But how can I get my box in and carried up? Jonas is with the
+horse, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he is minding the horse. Clutch must be made comfortable,
+and given his hay. I'll be bound you and Jonas have been eatin'
+and drinkin' all day, and never given Clutch a mouthful, nor washed
+his teeth with a pail o' water."
+
+"I'm sure Joe Filmer looked to the horse at the Ship. He is very
+attentive to beasts."
+
+"On ordinary days, and when nuthin' is goin' on, I dare say--not
+when there's weddin's and ducks and green peas goin' for any who
+axes for 'em."
+
+The report that ducks and green peas were to form an element of
+the entertainment had been told everywhere before the day of the
+marriage, and it was bitterness to Mrs. Rocliffe to think that
+"on principle," as she put it, she had been debarred from eating
+her share.
+
+"Ducks and green peas!" repeated she. "I s'pose you don't reckon on
+eating that every day here, no, nor on Sundays, no, not even at
+Christmas. 'Taint such as we in the Punch-Bowl as can stuff
+ourselves on ducks and green peas. Green peas and ducks we may
+grow--but we sells 'em to the quality."
+
+After some consideration Mrs. Rocliffe relented sufficiently to
+say, "I don't know but what Samuel may be idlin'; he mostly is.
+I'll go and send my son Samuel to help you with the box."
+
+Then with a surly "Good-night" the woman withdrew.
+
+After a couple of minutes, she returned: "I've come back," she
+said, "to tell you that if old Clutch is off his meat--and I
+shouldn't wonder if he was--wi' neglect and wi' drawing such a
+weight--then you'd best set to work and make him gruel. Jonas
+can't afford to lose old Clutch, just becos he's got a wife." Then
+she departed again.
+
+Jonas was indeed in the stable attending to the horse. He had,
+moreover, to run the cart under shelter. Mehetabel put out a
+trembling hand to snuff the candle. Her hand was so unsteady that
+she extinguished the light. Where to find the tinder box she knew
+not. She felt for a bench, and in the darkness when she had reached
+it, sank on it, and burst into tears.
+
+Such was the welcome to her new home.
+
+For some time she sat with as little light in her heart as there
+was without.
+
+She felt some relief in giving way to her surcharged heart. She
+sobbed and knitted her fingers together, unknitted them, and wove
+them together again in convulsions of distress--of despair.
+
+What expectation of happiness had she here? She was accustomed at
+the Ship to have everything about her neat and in good order. The
+mere look round that she had given to the room, the principal room
+of the house she had entered, showed how ramshackle it was. To
+some minds it is essential that there should be propriety, as
+essential as that the food they consume should be wholesome, the
+water they drink should be pure. They can no more accommodate
+themselves to disorder than they can to running on hands and feet
+like apes.
+
+It was quite true that this house would be given up to Mehetabel
+to do with it what she liked. But would her husband care to have
+it other than it was? Would he not resent her attempts to alter
+everything?
+
+And for what purpose would she strive and toil if he disapproved of
+her changes?
+
+She had no confidence that in temper, in character, in mind, he and
+she would agree, or agree to differ. She knew that he was grasping
+after money, that he commended no man, but had a disparaging word
+for every one, and envy of all who were prosperous. She had seen
+in him no sign of generosity of feeling, no spark of honor. No
+positive evil was said of him; if he were inclined to drink he was
+not a drunkard; if he stirred up strife in himself he was not
+quarrelsome. He over-reached in a bargain, but never did anything
+actually dishonest. He was not credited with any lightness in his
+moral conduct towards any village maid. That he was frugal, keen
+witted, was about all the good that was said, and that could be
+said of him. If he had won no one's love hitherto, was it likely
+that there was anything lovable in him? Would he secure the
+affections of his wife?
+
+Thoughts rose and fell, tossed and broke in Mehetabel's brain; her
+tears fell freely, and as she was alone in the house she was able
+to sob without restraint.
+
+Jonas had chained up Tartar, and the dog was howling. The pig
+grunted impatiently. A rat raced across the floor. Cockroaches came
+out in the darkness and stirred, making a strange rustling like
+the pattering of fine rain.
+
+Mehetabel could hear the voice of her husband in the yard. He was
+thrusting the cart under a roof. He would be in the house shortly,
+and she did not wish that he should find her in tears, that he
+should learn how weak, how hopeless she was.
+
+She put her hand into her pocket for a kerchief, and drew forth
+one, with which she staunched the flow from her eyes, and dried
+her cheeks. She put her knuckle to her lips to stay their quivering.
+Then, when she had recovered some composure, she drew a long sigh
+and replaced the sodden kerchief in her pocket.
+
+At that moment she started, sprang to her feet, searched her pocket
+in the darkness with tremulous alarm, with sickness at her heart.
+
+Then, not finding what she wanted, she stooped and groped along
+the floor, and found nothing save the flakes of fallen whitewash.
+
+She stood up panting, and put her hand to her heart. Then Jonas
+entered with a lantern, and saw her as she thus stood, one hand
+to her brow, thrusting back the hair, the other to her heart; he
+was surprised, raised his lantern to throw the light on her face,
+and said:--"Wot's up?"
+
+"I have been robbed! My fifteen pounds have been taken from me."
+
+"Well I--"
+
+"Jonas!" she said, "I know it was you. It was you who robbed me,
+where those men robbed my father. Just as I got into the cart you
+robbed me."
+
+He lowered the lantern.
+
+"Look here, Matabel, mind wot I said. In matrimony it's all give
+and take, and if there ain't give on one side, then there's take,
+take on the t'other. I ain't going to have this no Paradise if I
+can help it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+IVER.
+
+
+Next day was bright; but already some rime lay in the cold and
+marshy bottom of the Punch-Bowl.
+
+Mehetabel went round the farm with Bideabout, and with some pride
+he showed her his possessions, his fields, his barn, sheds and
+outhouses. Amongst these was that into which she had been taken
+on the night of her father's murder.
+
+She had often heard the story from Iver. She knew how that every
+door had been shut against her except that of the shed in which
+the heather and broom steels were kept that belonged to Jonas, and
+which served as his workshop.
+
+With a strange sense, as though she were in the hands of Fate
+thrusting her on, she knew not whither, with remorseless cogency,
+the young wife looked into the dark shed which had received her
+eighteen years before.
+
+It was wonderful that she should have begun the first chapter of
+her life there, and that she should return to the same spot to
+open the second chapter.
+
+She felt relieved when Jonas left her to herself. Then she at
+once set to work on the house, in which there was much to be done.
+She was ambitious to get it into order and comfort before Mrs.
+Verstage came to visit her in her new quarters.
+
+As she worked, her mind reverted to the Ship. Would she be missed
+there? Would the new maid engaged be as active and attentive as
+she had been? Her place in the hearts of the old couple was now
+occupied by Iver. However much the innkeeper might pretend to be
+hard of reconciliation, yet he must yearn after his own son; he must
+be proud of him now that Iver was grown so fine and independent,
+and had carved for himself a place in the world.
+
+When the first feeling of regret over her departure was passed
+away, then all their thoughts, their aspirations, their pride
+would be engrossed by Iver.
+
+Mehetabel was scouring a saucepan. She lowered it, and her hands
+remained inactive. Iver!--she saw him, as he stood before her in
+the Ship, extending his hands to her. She almost felt his grasp
+again.
+
+Mehetabel brushed back the hair that had fallen over her face; and
+as she did so a tear ran down her cheek.
+
+Then she heard her husband's voice; he was speaking with Samuel
+Rocliffe, his nephew; and it struck her as never before, how
+harsh, how querulous was his intonation.
+
+During the day, Mrs. Rocliffe came in, looked about inquisitively,
+and pursed up her lips when she saw the change effected, and
+conjectured that more was likely to follow.
+
+"I suppose nuthin' is good enough as it was--but you must put
+everything upside down?"
+
+"On the contrary, I am setting on its feet everything I have
+found topsy-turvy."
+
+To the great surprise of all, on the following Sunday, Bideabout,
+in his best suit, accompanied Mehetabel to church. He had never
+been a church-goer. He begrudged having to pay tithes. He begrudged
+having to pay something for his seat in addition to tithes to the
+church, if he went to a dissenting chapel. If religious ministrations
+weren't voluntary and gratuitous, "then," said Jonas, "he didn't
+think nuthin' of 'em."
+
+Jonas had been disposed to scoff at religion, and to work on
+Sundays, though not so openly as on other days of the week. He
+went to church now because he was proud of his wife; not out of
+devotion, but vanity.
+
+Some days later arrived a little tax-cart driven by Iver, with
+Mrs. Verstage in it.
+
+The hostess had already discovered what a difference it made in
+her establishment to have in it a raw and dull-headed maid in
+the room of the experienced and intelligent daughter. She did
+not regret what she had done--she had removed Mehetabel out of
+the reach of Iver, and had no longer any anxiety as to the disposal
+of his property by Simon. For her own sake she was sorry, as she
+plainly saw that her life was likely to run less smoothly in the
+future in her kitchen and with her guests. Now that Mehetabel was
+no longer dangerous, her heart unfolded towards her once more.
+
+The young wife received Mrs. Verstage with pleasure. The flush
+came into her cheeks when she saw her, and for the moment she had
+no eyes, no thoughts, no welcome for Iver.
+
+The landlady was not so active as of old, and she had to be assisted
+from her seat. As soon as she reached the ground she was locked in
+the embrace of her daughter by adoption.
+
+Then Mehetabel conducted the old woman over the house, and showed
+her the new arrangements she had made, and consulted her on certain
+projected alterations.
+
+Jonas had come to the door when the vehicle arrived; he was in his
+most gracious mood, and saluted first the hostess and then her
+son, with unwonted cordiality.
+
+"Come now, Matabel," said Mrs. Verstage, when both she and the
+young wife were alone together, "I did well to push this on, eh?
+You have a decent house, and a good farm. All yours, not rented,
+so none can turn you out. What more could you desire? I dare be
+sworn Bideabout has got a pretty nest egg stuck away somewhere,
+up the chimney or under the hearth. Has he shown you what he has?
+There was the elder Gilly Cheel was a terrible skinflint. When he
+died his sons hunted high and low for his money and couldn't find
+it. And just as they wos goin' to bury him, the nuss said she
+couldn't make a bootiful corpse of him, he were that puffed in
+his mouth. What do you think, Matabel? The old chap had stuffed
+his money into his mouth when he knew he was dyin'. Didn't want
+nobody to have it but himself. Don't you let Bideabout try any
+of them games."
+
+"Have you missed me greatly, dear mother?" asked Mehetabel, who
+had heard the story of Giles Cheel before.
+
+Mrs. Verstage sighed.
+
+"My dear, do you know the iron-stone bowl as belonged to my
+mother. The girl broke it, and hadn't the honesty to say so, but
+stuck it together wi' yaller soap, and thought I wouldn't see it.
+Then one of the customers made her laugh, and she let seven
+pewters fall, and they be battered outrageous. And she has been
+chuckin' the heel taps to the hog, and made him as drunk as a
+Christian. She'll drive me out of my seven senses."
+
+"So you do miss me, mother?"
+
+"My dear--no--I'm not selfish. It is all for your good. There wos
+Martha Lintott was goin' to a dance, and dropped her bustle. Patty
+Pickett picked it up, and thinkin' she couldn't have too much of
+a good thing, clapped it on a top of her own and cut a fine figure
+wi' it--wonderful. And Martha looked curious all up and down wi'out
+one. But she took it reasonable, and said, 'What's one woman's loss
+is another woman's gain.' O, my dear life! If Iver would but settle
+with Polly Colpus I should die content."
+
+"Is not the match agreed to yet?"
+
+"No!" Mrs. Verstage sighed. "I've got my boy back, but not for
+long. He talks of remaining here awhile to paint--subjects, he
+calls 'em, but he don't rise to Polly as I should like. Polly is
+a good girl. Master Colpus was at your weddin', and was very civil
+to Iver. I heard him invite the boy to come over and look in on
+him some evening--Sunday, for instance, and have a bite of supper
+and a glass. But Iver hasn't been nigh the Colpuses yet; and when
+I press him to go he shrugs his shoulders and says he has other
+and better friends he must visit first."
+
+Mrs. Verstage sighed again.
+
+"Well, perhaps he doesn't fancy Polly," said Mehetabel.
+
+"Why should he not fancy her? She will have five hundred pounds,
+and old James Colpus's land adjoins ours. I don't understand
+Iver's ways at all."
+
+Mehetabel laughed. "Dear mother, you cannot expect that; he did
+not think with his father's head when a boy. He will think only
+with his own head now he is a man."
+
+"Look here, Matabel. I'll leave Iver to you for half-an-hour. Show
+him the cows. I'll make Bideabout take me to his sister. I want to
+have it out with her for not coming to the wedding. I'm not the
+person to let these things pass. Say a word to Iver about Polly,
+there is a dear. I cannot bring them together, but you may, you
+are so clever."
+
+Meanwhile Iver and Jonas had been in conversation. The latter had
+been somewhat contemptuous about the profession of an artist, and
+was not a little astonished when he heard the prices realized by
+pictures. Iver told the Broom-Squire that he intended making some
+paintings of the Punch-Bowl, and that he had a mind to draw Kink's
+farm.
+
+In that case, said Bideabout, a percentage of the money such a
+picture fetched would be due to him. He didn't see that anyone had
+a right to take a portrait of his house and not pay him for it. If
+Iver were content to draw his house, he must, on no account, include
+that of the Rocliffes, for there was a mortgage on that, and there
+might be trouble with the lawyers.
+
+Mrs. Verstage proposed to Bideabout that she should go with him
+to his sister's house, and he consented.
+
+"Look here, Matabel," said he, "there is Mister Iver thinks he can
+make a pictur' of the spring, if you'll get a pitcher and stand
+by it. I dare say if it sells, he'll not forget us."
+
+"I wish I could take Mehetabel and her pitcher off your hands, and
+not merely the portrait of both," laughed Iver, to cover the
+confusion of the girl, who reddened with annoyance at the grasping
+meanness of Jonas.
+
+When Iver was alone with her, as they were on their way to the
+spring, he said, "Come, this will not do at all. For the first time
+we are free to chat together, as in the old times when we were
+inseparable friends. Why are you shy now, Matabel?"
+
+"You must be glad to be home again with the dear father and
+mother," she said.
+
+"Yes, but I miss you; and I had so reckoned on finding you there."
+
+"You will remain at the Ship now," urged she.
+
+"I don't know that. I have my profession. I have leisure during
+part of the summer and fall, making studies for pictures--but I
+take pupils; they pay."
+
+"You must consider the old folk."
+
+"I do. I will visit them occasionally. But art is a mistress, and
+an imperious one. When one is married one is no longer independent."
+
+"You are married?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, to my art."
+
+"Oh! to paints and brushes! Tell me true, Iver! Has no girl won
+your heart whilst you have been from home?"
+
+"I have found many to admire, but my heart is free. I have had no
+time to think of girls' faces--save as studies. Art is a mistress
+as jealous as she is exacting."
+
+Mehetabel drew a long breath. There went up a flash of light in
+her mind, for which she did not attempt to account. "You are
+free--that is famous, and can take Polly Colpus."
+
+Then she laughed, and Iver laughed.
+
+They laughed long and merrily together.
+
+"This is too much," exclaimed Iver. "At home father is at me to
+exchange the mahl-stick for an ox-goad, and mother wearies me with
+laudation of Polly Colpus. I shall revolt and run away, as I did
+not expect you to lend a hand with Polly."
+
+"You must not run away," said Mehetabel, earnestly. "Iver! I was
+all those years at the Ship, with mother, after you went, and I
+have seen how her heart has ached for you. She is growing old.
+Let her have consolation during the years that remain for the
+sorrow of those that are past."
+
+"I cannot take to farming, nor turn publican, and I will not
+have Polly Colpus."
+
+"Here is the spring," said Mehetabel.
+
+She set the pitcher beside the water, leaned back in the hedge,
+musing, with her finger to her chin, her eyes on the ground, and
+her feet crossed.
+
+"Stand as you are. That is perfect. Do not stir. I will make a
+pencil sketch."
+
+The spring gushed from under a bank, in a clear and copious jet.
+It had washed away the sand, and had buried itself in a nook
+among ferns and moss. On the top of the bank was a rude shed, open
+at the side, with a cart at rest in it. Wild parsnips in full
+flower nodded before the water.
+
+"I could desire nothing better," said Iver, "and that pale blue
+skirt of yours, the white stockings, the red kerchief round your
+head--in color as in arrangement everything is admirable."
+
+"You have not your paints with you."
+
+"I will come another day and bring them. Now I will only sketch
+in the outline."
+
+Presently Iver laughed. "Matabel! If I took Polly she would be of
+no use to me whatever, not even as a model."
+
+Presently the Broom-Squire returned with Mrs. Verstage, and looked
+over the shoulder of the artist.
+
+"Not done much," he said.
+
+"I shall have to come again and yet again, to put in the color,"
+said Iver.
+
+"Come when and as often as you like," said Bideabout. Neither of
+the men noticed the shrinking that affected the entire frame of
+Mehetabel, as Jonas said these words, but it was observed by Mrs.
+Verstage, and a shade of anxiety swept over her face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AGAIN-IVER.
+
+
+A few days after this first visit, Iver was again at the Kinks'
+farm.
+
+The weather was fine, and he protested that he must take advantage
+of it to proceed with his picture.
+
+Mehetabel was reluctant to stand. She made excuses that were at
+once put aside.
+
+"If you manage to sell pictures of our place," said Bideabout, "our
+Punch-Bowl may get a name, and folk come here picnicking from
+Godalming and Guildford and Portsmouth; and I'll put up a board with
+Refreshments--Moderate, over the door, and Matabel shall make tea
+or sell cake, and pick up a trifle towards; housekeeping."
+
+A month was elapsed since Mehetabel's marriage, the month of honey
+to most--one of empty comb without sweetness to her. She had drawn
+no nearer to her husband than before. They had no interests, no
+tastes in common. They saw all objects through a different medium.
+
+It was not a matter of concern to Mehetabel that she was left
+much alone by Jonas, and that her sister-in-law and the rest of
+the squatters treated her as an interloper.
+
+As a child, at the Ship, without associates of her own age, after
+Iver's departure, she had lived much to herself, and now her soul
+craved for solitude. And yet, when she was alone the thoughts of
+her heart troubled her.
+
+Jonas was attached, in his fashion, to his beautiful wife; he
+joked, and was effusive in his expressions of affection. But she
+did not respond to his jokes, and his demonstrations of affection
+repelled her. Jonas was too dull, or vain, to perceive this, and
+he attributed her coldness to modesty, real or affected, probably
+the latter.
+
+Mehetabel shrank from looking full in the face, the thought that
+she must spend the rest of her life with this man. She was well
+aware that she could not love him, could hardly bring herself to
+like him, the utmost she could hope was that she might arrive at
+enduring him.
+
+Whilst in this condition of unrest and discouragement, Iver
+appeared, and his presence lit up the desolation in which she was.
+The sight of him, the sound of his voice, aroused old recollections,
+helped to drive away the shadows that environed her, and that
+clouded her mind. There was no harm in this, and yet she was
+uneasy. Cheerful as she was when he was present, there was
+something feverish in this cheerfulness, and it left her more
+unhappy than before when he was gone, and more conscious of the
+impossibility of accommodating herself to her lot.
+
+The visit on one fine day was followed by another when the rain
+fell heavily.
+
+Iver entered the house, shook his wet hat and cloak, and with a
+laugh, exclaimed--
+
+"Here I am--to continue the picture."
+
+"In such weather?"
+
+"Little woman! When I started the wind was in the right quarter.
+All at once it veered round and gave me a drenching. What odds?
+You can stand at the window, and I can proceed with the figure.
+It was tedious at the Ship. Between you and me and the post, I
+cannot get along with the fellows who come there to drink. You
+are the only person in Thursley with whom I can talk and be happy."
+
+"Bideabout is not at home."
+
+"I didn't come through the rain to see Bideabout, but you."
+
+"Will you have anything to eat or drink?"
+
+"Anything that you can give me. But I did not come for that. To
+tell the truth, I don't think I'll venture on the picture. The
+light is so bad. It is of no consequence. We can converse. I am
+sick of public-house talk. I ran away to be with you. We are old
+chums, are we not, dear Matabel?"
+
+A fire of peat was on the hearth. She threw on skin-turf that flamed
+up.
+
+Iver was damp. His hands were clammy. His hair ends dripped. His
+face was running with water. He spread his palms over the flame,
+and smiled.
+
+"And so you were tired of being at home?" she said, as she put the
+turves together.
+
+"Home is no home to me, now you are gone," was his answer.
+
+Then, after a pause, during which he chafed his hands over the
+dancing flame, he added: "I wish you were back in the old Ship. The
+old Ship! It is no longer the dear old Ship of my recollections,
+now that you have deserted. Why did you leave? It is strange to me
+that my mother did not write and tell me that you were going to be
+married. If she had done that--"
+
+He continued drying his hands, looking dreamily into the flame,
+and left the sentence incomplete.
+
+"It is queer altogether," he pursued. "When I told her I was at
+Guildford, and proposed returning, she put me off, till my father
+was better prepared. She would break the news to him, see how--he
+took it, and so on. I waited, heard no more, so came unsummoned,
+for I was impatient at the delay. She knew I wished to hear about
+you, Mattee, dear old friend and playmate. I asked in my letters
+about you. You know you ceased to write, and mother labored at the
+pen herself, finally. She answered that you were well--nothing
+further. Why did she not tell me of your engagement? Have you any
+idea, Matabel?"
+
+She bowed over the turf, to hide her fate, but the leaping flame
+revealed the color that mantled cheek, and throat, and brow. Her
+heart was beating furiously.
+
+"That marriage seems to me to have been cobbled up precious
+quickly. Were you so mighty impatient to have the Broom-Squire
+that you could not wait till you were twenty? A girl of eighteen
+does not know her own mind. A pretty kettle of fish there will be
+if you discover, when too late, that you have made a mistake, and
+married the wrong man, who can never make you happy."
+
+Mehetabel started upright, and went with heaving bosom to the
+window, then drew back in surprise, for she saw the face of Mrs.
+Rocliffe at the pane, her nose applied to and flattened against
+the glass, and looking like a dab of putty.
+
+She was offended at the woman's inquisitiveness, and went to the
+door to inquire if she needed anything.
+
+"Nuthin' at all," answered Sarah, with a laugh, "except to see
+whether my brother was home. It's early days beginning this, I call
+it."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nuthin'."
+
+"Iver is here," said Mehetabel, controlling herself. "Will you
+please to come in?"
+
+"But Jonas is not, is he?"
+
+"No; he has gone to Squire Mellers about a load of stable-brooms."
+
+"I wouldn't come in on no account," said Mrs. Rocliffe. "Two's
+company, three's none," and she turned and departed.
+
+After she had shut the door Mehetabel went hastily through the
+kitchen into the scullery at the back. Her face was crimson, and
+she trembled in all her joints.
+
+Iver called to her; she answered hastily that she was engaged, and
+presently, after she had put bread and cake and butter on the
+table, she fled to her own room upstairs, seated herself on a
+chair, and hid her burning face in her apron.
+
+The voice of her husband below afforded sensible relief to her in
+her mortification. He was speaking with Iver; cursing the weather
+and his bad luck. His long tramp in the rain had been to no
+purpose. The Squire, to whose house he had been, was out. She
+washed her face, combed and smoothed her hair, and slowly descended
+the stairs.
+
+On seeing her Jonas launched forth in complaints, and showed
+himself to be in an evil temper. He must have ale, not wish-wash
+tea, fit only for old women. He would not stuff himself with cake
+like a school child. He must have ham fried for him at once.
+
+He was in an irritable mood, and found fault with his wife about
+trifles, or threw out sarcastic remarks that wounded, and made
+Iver boil with indignation. Jonas did not seem to bear the young
+artist a grudge; he was, in fact, pleased to see him, and proposed
+to him to stay the evening and have a game of cards.
+
+It was distressing to Mehetabel to be rebuked in public, but she
+made no rejoinder. Jonas had seized on the opportunity to let his
+visitor see that he was not tied to his wife's apron string, but
+was absolute master in his own house. The blood mounted to Iver's
+brow, and he clenched his hands under the table.
+
+To relieve the irksomeness of the situation Iver proceeded to undo
+a case of his colored sketches that he had brought with him.
+
+These water-colors were charming in their style, a style much
+affected at that period; the tints were stippled in, and every
+detail given with minute fidelity. The revolution in favor of
+blottesque had not yet set in, and the period was happily far
+removed from that of the impressionist, who veils his incapacity
+under a term--an impression, and calls a daub a picture. Nature
+never daubs, never strains after effects. She is painstaking,
+delicate in her work, and reticent.
+
+Whilst Mehetabel was engaged frying ham, Iver showed his drawings
+to the Broom-Squire, who treated them without perception of their
+beauty, and valued them solely as merchandise. But when supper was
+ready, and whilst Jonas was eating, he had a more interested and
+appreciative observer in Mehetabel, to whom the drawings afforded
+unfeigned pleasure. In her delight she sat close to Iver; her warm
+breath played over his cheek, as he held up the sketches to the
+light, and pointed out the details of interest.
+
+Once when these were minute, and she had to look closely to observe
+them, in the poor light afforded by the candle, without thinking
+what he was about, Iver put his hand on her neck. She started, and
+he withdrew it. The action was unobserved by Bideabout, who was
+engrossed in his rasher.
+
+When Jonas had finished his meal, he thrust his plate away,
+produced a pack of cards, and said--
+
+"Here, Mr. Iver, are pictures worth all of yours. Will you come
+and try your luck or skill against me? We'll have a sup of brandy
+together. Matabel, bring glasses and hot-water."
+
+Iver went to the door and looked out. The rain descended in
+streams; so he returned to the table, drew up his chair and took
+a hand.
+
+When Mehetabel had washed the plates and dishes used at the meal,
+she seated herself where she could see by the candle-light, took
+up her needlework, and was prepared to snuff the wick as was
+required.
+
+Iver found that he could not fix his attention on the game.
+Whenever Mehetabel raised her hand for the snuffers, he made a
+movement to forestall her, then sometimes their eyes met, and she
+lowered hers in confusion.
+
+The artistic nature of Iver took pleasure in the beautiful; and
+the features, coloring, grace of the young Broom-Squiress, were
+such as pleased him and engaged his attention. He made no attempt
+to analyze his feelings towards her. He was not one to probe his
+own heart, nor had he the resolution to break away from temptation,
+even when recognized as such. Easy-going, good-natured, impulsive,
+with a spice of his mother's selfishness in his nature, he allowed
+himself to follow his inclinations without consideration whither
+they might lead him, and how they might affect others.
+
+Iver's eyes, thoughts, were distracted from the game. He lost
+money--five shillings, and Jonas urged him to play for higher
+stakes.
+
+Then Mehetabel laid her needlework in her lap, and said--
+
+"No, Iver, do not. You have played sufficiently, and have lost
+enough. Go home."
+
+Jonas swore at her.
+
+"What is that to you? We may amuse ourselves without your meddling.
+What odds to you if he loses, so long as I win. I am your husband
+and not he."
+
+But Iver rose, and laughingly said:--
+
+"Better go home with a wet jacket than with all the money run out
+of my pocket. Good-night, Bideabout."
+
+"Have another shot?"
+
+"Not another."
+
+"She put you up to this," with a spiteful glance at Mehetabel.
+
+"Not a bit, Jonas. Don't you think a chap feels he's losing blood,
+without being told he is getting white about the gills."
+
+The Broom-Squire sulkily began to gather up the cards.
+
+"What sort of a night is it, Mehetabel? Go to the door and see,"
+said he.
+
+The girl rose and opened the door.
+
+Without, the night was black as pitch, and in the light that
+issued the raindrops glittered as they fell. In the trees, in
+the bushes, on the grass, was the rustle of descending rain.
+
+"By Jove, it's worse than ever," said Iver: "lend me a lantern, or
+I shall never reach home."
+
+"I haven't one to spare," replied Bideabout; "the hogs and calves
+must be tended, and the horse, Old Clutch, littered down. Best way
+that you have another game with me, and you shall stay the night.
+We have a spare room and bed."
+
+"I accept with readiness," said Iver.
+
+"Go--get all ready, Matabel. Now, then! you cut, I deal."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+DREAMS.
+
+
+Iver remained the night in the little farm-house. He thought
+nothing as he lay in bed of the additional shillings he had lost
+to Jonas, but of the inestimable loss he had sustained in Mehetabel.
+
+The old childish liking he had entertained for her revived. It did
+more than revive, it acquired strength and heat. As a boy he had
+felt some pride and self-consequence because of the child whom he
+had introduced into the Christian Church, and to whom he had given
+a name. Now he was elated to think that she was the most beautiful
+woman he had seen, and angry with the consciousness that she was
+snatched from him.
+
+Why had he not returned to Thursley a day, half a day, earlier?
+Why had Fate played such a cruel game with him? What a man this
+Jonas Kink was who had won the prize. Was he worthy of it? Did he
+value Mehetabel as he should? A fellow who could not perceive
+beauty in a landscape and see the art in his drawings was not
+one to know that his wife was lovely, or if he knew it did so in
+a stupid, unappreciative manner. Did he treat Mehetabel kindly;
+with ordinary civility? Iver remembered the rebukes, the slights
+put on her in his own presence.
+
+Iver's bedroom was neat, everything in it clean. The bed was one of
+those great tented four-posters which were at the time much
+affected in Surrey, composed of covering and curtains of striped--or
+pranked--cotton, blue and white. Mehetabel, in the short while she
+had been in the Punch-Bowl, had put the spare room in order. She
+had found it used as a place for lumber, every article of furniture
+deep in dust, and every curtain rent. The corners of the room had
+been given over for twenty years as the happy hunting-ground of
+spiders. Although Bideabout had taken some pains to put his house
+in order before his marriage, repairs had been executed only on
+what was necessary, and in a parsimonious spirit. The spare room had
+been passed over, as not likely to be needed. To that as to every
+other portion of the house, Mehetabel had turned her attention,
+and it was now in as good condition to receive a guest as the
+bedrooms in the Ship Inn.
+
+Presently Iver went to sleep, lulled by the patter of the rain on
+the roof, on the leaves, and the sobbing of the moist wind through
+the ill-adjusted casement.
+
+As he slept he had a dream.
+
+He thought that he heard Thursley Church bells ringing. He believed
+he had been to church to be married. He was in his holiday attire,
+and was holding his bride by the hand. He turned about to see who
+was his partner, and recognized Mehetabel. She was in white, but
+whiter than her dress and veil was her bloodless face, and her
+dark brows and hair marked it as with mourning.
+
+There was this strange element in his dream, that he could not
+leave the churchyard.
+
+He endeavored to follow the path to the gate, outside which the
+villagers were awaiting them with flowers and ready to cheer; but
+he was unable to reach it. The path winded in and out among the
+gravestones, and round and round the church, till at length it
+reached the tomb of the murdered sailor.
+
+All the while the ringers were endeavoring to give the young bridal
+pair a merry peal, and failed. The ropes slid from their hands,
+and only the sexton succeeded in securing one, and with that he
+tolled. Distinctly Iver saw the familiar carving of the three
+murderers robbing and killing their victim. He had often laughed
+over the bad drawing of the figures--he laughed now, in sleep.
+
+Then he thought that he heard Mehetabel reproach him for having
+returned, to be her woe. And that between each sentence she sobbed.
+
+Thereupon he again looked at her.
+
+She was beautiful, more beautiful than ever--a beauty sublimated,
+rendered almost transparent. As he looked she became paler, and
+the hand he held grew colder. Now ensued a strange phenomenon.
+
+She was sinking. Her feet disappeared in the spongy turf that
+oozed with water after the long rain. Her large dark eyes were
+fixed on him entreatingly, reproachfully.
+
+Then she was enveloped to her knees, and as she went down, the
+stain of the wet grass and the soil of the graveyard clay rose an
+inch up her pure white garment.
+
+She held his hand tenaciously, as the only thing to which she
+could cling to save her from being wholly engulfed.
+
+Then she was swallowed up to her waist, and he became aware that
+if he continued to clasp her hand, she would drag him under the
+earth. In his dream he reasoned with her. He pointed out to her
+that it was impossible for him to be of any service to her, and
+that he was jeopardizing his own self, unless he disengaged himself
+from her.
+
+He endeavored to release his hand. She clung the more obstinately,
+her fingers were deadly cold and numbed him, yet he was resolute
+in self-defence, and finally freed his hand. Then she sank more
+rapidly, with despair in the upturned face. He tried to escape
+her eyes, he could not. It was a satisfaction to him when the rank
+grass closed over them and got between the lips that were opened
+in appeal for help. Then ensued a gulp. The earth had swallowed
+her up, and in dream, he was running for his pallet and canvas to
+make a study of the spot where she had sunk, in a peculiarly
+favorable light. He woke, shivering, and saw that the gray morning
+was looking in at his window between the white curtains.
+
+His hand, that had felt so chill, was out of the bed, and the
+coverlet had slid off him, and was heaped on the floor.
+
+The wind had shifted, and now pressed the clouds together, rolled
+them up and swept them into the lumber-house of clouds below the
+horizon. He dressed leisurely, shook himself, to shake off the
+impression produced by his dream, and laughed at himself for
+having been disturbed by it.
+
+When he came downstairs he found that both Mehetabel and Jonas
+were already on their feet, and that the former was preparing
+breakfast. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
+
+"How did you sleep?" she asked, with faint smile--"and what were
+your dreams?"
+
+"They say that the first dream in new quarters comes true," threw
+in the Broom-Squire; "but this is the idle chatter of old wives.
+I make no count of it."
+
+Mehetabel observed that Iver started and seemed disconcerted at
+this question relative to his dream. He evaded an answer, and she
+saw that the topic was unpleasant, and to reply inconvenient. She
+said no more; and Jonas had other matters to think about more
+substantial than dreams. Yet Mehetabel could not fail to perceive
+that their guest was out of tune. Was he annoyed at having lost
+money, or was he in reality troubled by something that had occurred
+during the night? An hour later Iver prepared to leave.
+
+"Come with me a little way," he pleaded with the hostess, "see me
+safe off the premises."
+
+She did as was desired, though not without inner reluctance. And
+yet, at the same time she felt that with his departure a something
+would be gone that could not be replaced, a light out of her sky,
+a strain of music out of her soul.
+
+The white fog lay like curd at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. Here
+and there a tree-top stood above the vapor, but only as a bosky
+islet in the surface of mist, dense and chill. The smoke from the
+chimneys of the squatter houses rose like steaming springs, but
+the brick chimneys were submerged. So dense was the fog that it
+muffled all sound, impeded the breath, struck cold to the marrow.
+It smelt, for the savors of hog-pen and cow-stall were caught and
+not allowed to dissipate.
+
+A step, and those ascending the side of the great basin were out
+of the mist, and in sunshine, but it still held their feet to the
+knees; another step and they were clear, and then their shadows
+were cast, gigantic, upon the white surface below, and about each
+head was a halo of light and rainbow tints.
+
+Every bush was twinkling as hung with diamonds of the purest
+water. Larks were trilling, pouring forth in song the ecstasy
+that swelled their hearts. The sky was blue as a nemophyla, and
+cloudless.
+
+As soon as Iver and Mehetabel had issued from the fog and were
+upon the heath, and in the sunshine, she stayed her feet.
+
+"I will go no further," she said.
+
+"Look," said he, "how the fog lies below at the bottom of the
+Punch-Bowl, as though it were snow. Above, on the downs all is
+sunshine."
+
+"Yes, you go up into the light and warmth," answered she. "I must
+back and down into the cold vapors, cold as death."
+
+He thought of his dream. There was despondency in her tone.
+
+"The sun will pierce and scatter the vapors and shine over and
+warm you below."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Iver," she said, "you may tell me now we are alone. What was
+your dream?"
+
+Again he appeared disconcerted.
+
+"Of what, of whom did you dream?"
+
+"Of whom else could I dream but you--when under your roof," said
+he with a laugh.
+
+"Oh, Iver! and what did you dream about me?"
+
+"Arrant nonsense. Dreams go by contraries."
+
+"Then what about me?"
+
+"I dreamt of your marriage."
+
+"Then that means death."
+
+He caught her to him, and kissed her lips.
+
+"We are brother and sister," he said, in self-exculpation. "Where
+is the harm?"
+
+She disengaged herself hastily.
+
+She heard a cough and looked round, to see the mocking face of
+Sarah Rocliffe, who had followed and had just emerged from the
+curdling fog below.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+REALITIES.
+
+
+Iver was gone.
+
+The light that had sparkled in Mehetabel's eyes, the flush, like
+a carnation in her cheek, faded at once. She was uneasy that Mrs.
+Rocliffe had surprised her and Iver, whilst he gave her that
+ill-considered though innocent parting salute.
+
+What mischief she might make of it! How she might sow suspicion of
+her in the heart of Jonas, and Iver would be denied the house!
+Iver denied the house! Then she would see him no more, have no
+more pleasant conversations with him. Indeed, then the cold,
+clammy fog into which she descended was a figure of the life hers
+would be, and it was one that no sun's rays could dissipate.
+
+After she had returned to the house she sank in a dark comer
+like one weary after hard labor, and looked dreamily before her
+at the floor. Her hands and her feet were motionless.
+
+A smile that every moment became more bitter sat on her lips. The
+muscles of her face became more rigid.
+
+What if through jealousy, open discord broke out between her and
+Jonas? Would it make her condition more miserable, her outlook
+more desperate? She revolved in thought the events that were past.
+She ranged them in their order--the proposal of Jonas, her refusal,
+the humiliation to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Verstage
+which had driven her to accept the man she had just rejected, the
+precipitation with which the marriage had been hurried on, then
+the appearance of Iver on her wedding day.
+
+She recalled the look that passed over his face when informed that
+she was a bride, the clasp of his hands, and now--now--his kiss
+burned on her lips, nay, had sunk in as a drop of liquid fire, and
+was consuming her heart with anguish and sweetness combined.
+
+Was the kiss that of a brother to a sister? Was there in it, as
+Iver said, no harm, no danger to herself? She thought of the journey
+home from the Ship on her wedding evening, of the fifteen pounds of
+which she had been robbed by her husband, the money given her by
+"father" against the evil day. She had been deceived, defrauded by
+the man she had sworn to honor, love, and obey. She had not
+acquired love for him. Had he not by this act forfeited all claim
+to both love and honor?
+
+She thought again of Iver, of his brown, agate-like eyes, but eyes
+in which there was none of the hardness of a stone. She contrasted
+him with Jonas. How mean, how despicable, how narrow in mind and
+in heart was the latter compared with the companion of her youth.
+
+Mehetabel's face was bathed in perspiration. She slid to her knees
+to pray; she folded her hands, and found herself repeating.
+"Genesis, fifty chapters; Exodus, forty; Leviticus, twenty-seven;
+Numbers, thirty-six; Deuteronomy, thirty-four; these are the books
+that constitute the Pentateuch. The Book of Joshua--"
+
+Then she checked herself. In her distress, her necessity, she
+was repeating the lesson last acquired in Sunday-school, which
+had gained her a prize. This was not prayer. It brought her no
+consolation, it afforded her no strength. She tried to find
+something to which to cling, to stay her from the despair into
+which she had slipped, and could only clearly figure to herself
+that "the country of the Gergesenes lay to the southeast of the
+Sea of Tiberias and that a shekel weighed ten hundred-weights and
+ninety-two grains, Troy weight, equal to in avoirdupois--" her brain
+whirled. She could not work out the sum. She could not pray. She
+could recall no prayer. She could look to nothing beyond the
+country of the Gergesenes. And yet, never in her life had she so
+needed prayer, strength, as now, when this new guilty passion
+was waking in her heart.
+
+Shuddering at the thought of revolt against her duty, unable
+altogether to abandon the hope, the longing to see Iver again,
+filled with vague terror of what the future might bring forth,
+she remained as struck with paralysis, kneeling, speechless, with
+head bowed, hands fallen at her side, seeing, hearing, knowing
+nothing; and was roused with a start by the voice of Jonas who
+entered, and asked--,
+
+"Wot's up now?"
+
+She could not answer him. She sprang to her feet and eagerly
+flew to the execution of her domestic duties.
+
+Iver returned from his visit to the Punch-Bowl with a mind occupied
+and ill at ease.
+
+He had allowed himself, without a struggle, to give way to the
+impression produced on him by the beauty of Mehetabel. He enjoyed
+her society--found pleasure in talking of the past. Her mind was
+fresh; she was intelligent, and receptive of new ideas. She alone
+of all the people of Thursley, whom he had encountered, was
+endowed with artistic sense--was able to set the ideal above what
+was material. He did not ask himself whether he loved her. He knew
+that he did, but the knowledge did not trouble him. After a
+fashion, Mehetabel belonged to him as to none other. She was
+associated with his earliest and sunniest recollections.
+
+Mehetabel could sympathize with him in his love for the beautiful
+in Nature. She had ever been linked with his mother in love for
+him. She had been the vehicle of communication between him and his
+mother till almost the last moment; it was through her that all
+tidings of home had reached him.
+
+When his father had refused to allow Iver's name to be mentioned
+in his presence, for hours daily the thoughts of him had been in
+the hearts of his mother and this girl. With united pity and love,
+they had followed his struggles to make his way.
+
+There was much obstinacy in Iver.
+
+Resolution to have his own way had made him leave home to follow
+an artistic career, regardless of the heartache he would cause
+his mother, and the resentment he would breed in his father.
+
+Thus, without consideration of the consequences to himself, to
+Mehetabel, to Jonas, he allowed his glowing affection for the
+young wife to gather heat, without attempt to master or extinguish
+it.
+
+There is a certain careless happiness in the artistic soul that
+is satisfied with the present, and does not look into the future.
+The enjoyment of the hour, the banquet off the decked table, the
+crown of roses freshly blown, suffice the artist's soul. It has no
+prevision of the morrow--makes no provision for the winter.
+
+That the marriage of Mehetabel with Jonas had raised barriers
+between them was hardly considered. That the Broom-Squire might
+resent having him hover round his young flower, did not enter
+into Iver's calculations; least of all did it concern him that
+he was breaking the girl's heart, and forever making it impossible
+for her to reconcile herself to her position.
+
+As Iver walked home over the common, and enjoyed the warmth and
+brilliancy of the sun, he asked himself again, why his mother
+had not prepared him for the marriage of Mehetabel.
+
+Mehetabel had certainly not taken Jonas because she loved him.
+She was above sordid considerations. What, then, had induced her
+to take the man? She had been happy and contented at the Ship;
+why, then, did she leave it?
+
+On reaching home, he put the question to his mother. "It is a
+puzzle to me, which I cannot unravel, why has Matabel become
+Bideabout's wife?"
+
+"Why should she not?" asked his mother in return. "It was a catch
+for such as she--a girl without a name, and bare of a dower. She
+has every reason to thank me for having pushed the marriage on."
+
+Iver looked at his mother with surprise.
+
+"Then you had something to do with it?"
+
+"Of course I had," answered she. "I did my duty. I am not so young
+as I was. I had to think for Matabel's future. She is no child of
+mine. She can expect nothing from your father nor from me. When a
+good offer came, then I told her to accept and be thankful. She
+is a good girl, and has been useful in the house, and some people
+think her handsome. But young men don't court a girl who has no
+name, and has had three men hanged because of her."
+
+"Mother! what nonsense! The men were executed because they murdered
+her father."
+
+"It is all one. She is marked with the gallows. Ill-luck attaches
+to her. There has been a blight on her from the beginning. I mind
+when her father chucked her down all among the fly-poison. Now she
+has got the Broom-Squire, she may count herself lucky, and thank
+me for it."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Iver. "Then this marriage is your doing?"
+
+"Yes--I told her that, before you came here, I must have her clear
+out of the house."
+
+"Why?"
+
+A silence ensued. Mrs. Verstage looked at her son--into his great,
+brown eyes--and what she saw there alarmed her. Her lips moved to
+speak, but she could utter no words. She had let out her motive
+without consideration in the frankness that was natural to her.
+
+"I ask, mother, why did you stop Matabel from writing, and take
+up the correspondence yourself at last; and then, when you did
+write to me at Guildford, you said not one word about Mehetabel
+being promised to the Broom-Squire?"
+
+"I could not put all the news of the parish into my letter. How
+should I know that this concerned you?"
+
+"We were together as children. If ever there were friends in the
+world, it was we."
+
+"I am a bad writer. It takes me five minutes over one word, just
+about. I said what I had to say, and no more, and I were a couple
+o' days over that."
+
+"Why did you ask me to postpone my coming home?--why seek to keep
+me away till after Mehetabel's marriage?"
+
+"There was a lot to do in the house, preparation for the weddin'--her
+gownds--I couldn't have you here whilst all the rout was on. I
+wanted to have you come when all was quiet again, and I could
+think of you. What wi' preparations and schemin' my head was full."
+
+"Was that the only reason, mother?"
+
+She did not answer. Her eyes fell.
+
+Iver threw his hat on the table, and went to his room. He was
+incensed against his mother. He guessed the reason why she had
+urged on the marriage, why she had kept him in ignorance of the
+engagement, why she had delayed his return to Thursley.
+
+She had made her plans. She wished to marry him to Polly Colpus,
+and she dreaded his association with Mehetabel as likely to be
+prejudicial to the success of her cherished scheme, now that the
+girl was in the ripeness of her beauty and to Iver invested with
+the halo of young associations, of boy romance.
+
+If his mother had told him! If she had not bidden him postpone his
+coming home! Then all would have turned out well. Mehetabel would
+not have been linked to an undesirable man, whom she could not
+love; and he would have been free to make her his own.
+
+His heart was bitter as wormwood.
+
+Mrs. Verstage saw but too plainly that her son was estranged from
+her; and she could form a rough estimate of the reason. He addressed
+her indeed with a semblance of love and showed her filial attention,
+but her maternal instinct assured her that something stood between
+them, something which took the reality and spontaneity out of his
+demonstrations of affection.
+
+Iver occupied himself with the picture of Mehetabel at the fountain.
+It was his great pleasure to work thereon. If he was not engaged at
+his canvas in the tavern, he was wandering in the direction of the
+Punch-Bowl to make studies for pictures, so he said. His mother
+saw that there was no prospect of retaining her son at the Ship
+for long. What held him there was not love for her, desire to
+recover lost ground with his father, not a clinging to his old
+home, not a desire to settle and take up his father's work; it
+was something else--she feared to give utterance to the thought
+haunting her mind.
+
+"You are a fool, old woman," said her husband to her one night.
+"You and I might have been easy and happy in our old age had you
+not meddled and made mischief. You always was a great person for
+lecturin' about Providence, and it's just about the one thing you
+won't let alone."
+
+"What do you mean, Simon?" she asked, and her heart beat fast
+with presage of what he would say.
+
+"Why, Susan, if you had not thrust Mehetabel into the Broom-Squire's
+arms when she didn't want to be there no more nor among brimbles,
+then Iver would have taken her and all would have been peace."
+
+"What makes you say that?" she asked, in a flutter of terror.
+
+"Oh, I'll be bound it would have been so. Iver has been asking
+all manner of questions about Matabel, and why she took Jonas.
+I sed it was agin my wishes, but that you would have it, so
+Matabel had to give in."
+
+"Simon, why did you say that? You set the boy against me."
+
+"I don't see that, Sanna. It is you who have put the fat in the
+fire. If you try to turn a stream to run uphill, you will souse
+your own field, and won't get the water to go where you drive it.
+It's my belief that all the while he has been away, Iver has had
+his mind set upon Matabel. I'm not surprised. You may go through
+Surrey, and won't find her match. Now he comes home and finds that
+you have spoiled his chance, with your meddlesomeness--and there'll
+be the devil to pay, yet. That's my opinion."
+
+The old man turned on his side and was asleep, but self-reproach
+for what was past and doubt as to the future kept his wife awake
+all night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+BACK AGAIN.
+
+
+Fever boiled in the heart of Mehetabel. A mill-race of ideas
+rushed through her brain.
+
+She found no rest in her household work, for it was not possible for
+her to keep her mind upon it. Nor was there sufficient employment
+to be found in the house to engage all her time.
+
+Do what she would, make for herself occupation, there was still
+space in which to muse and to torment herself with her thoughts.
+Whilst her hands were engaged she craved for leisure in which to
+think; when unemployed, the ferment within rendered idleness
+intolerable.
+
+When the work of the house was accomplished, she went to the
+fountain where she had been drawn by Iver, and there saw again
+the glowing brown of his eyes fixed on her, and reheard the tones
+of his voice addressing her. Then she would start as though stung
+by a wasp and go along the track up the Punch-Bowl, recalling
+every detail of her walk with Iver, and feeling again his kiss
+upon her lips. She tried to forget him; with a resolution of which
+she was capable she shut against his entry every door of her heart.
+But she found it was impossible to exclude the thoughts of him.
+Had she not looked up to him from early childhood, and idolized
+him? She had been accustomed to think of him, to talk of him daily
+to his mother, after he had left the Ship. That mother who had
+forcibly separated her from him had herself ingrafted Iver into
+her inmost thoughts, made of him an integral portion of her mind.
+She had been taught by Mrs. Verstage to bring him into all her
+dreams of the future, as a factor without which that future would
+be void and valueless, She had, indeed, never dreamed of him as a
+lover, a husband; nevertheless to Mehetabel the future had always
+been associated in a vague, yet very real, manner with Iver. His
+return was to inaugurate the epoch of a new and joyous existence.
+It was not practicable for her to pluck out of her heart this idea,
+which had thrust its fibres through every layer and into every
+corner of her mind. Those fibres were now thrilling with vitality,
+asserting a vigorous life.
+
+She asked herself the same question that had presented itself to
+his mind, what if Iver had returned one day, one hour, before he
+actually did? Then her marriage with Jonas would have been made
+impossible. The look into his eyes, the pressure of his hand would
+have bound her to him for evermore.
+
+"Why, why, and oh why!" with a cry of pain, "had he not returned
+in time to save her?"
+
+"Why, why, and oh why!" with blood from her heart, "did he return
+at all when too late to save her?"
+
+Mehetabel had a clear and sound understanding. She was not one to
+play tricks with her conscience, and to reason herself into
+allowing what she was well aware was wrong. She nourished herself
+in no delusion that her marriage with Jonas was formal and devoid
+of the sanction of a spiritual bond.
+
+She took her Prayer Book, opened the marriage service, and re-read
+the vows she had made.
+
+She had been asked, "Wilt thou have this man, Jonas, to thy wedded
+husband, to live together after God's ordinance . . . and forsaking
+all other keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
+and thereto, in the sight of God and of the congregation, she had
+promised. There was no escape from this.
+
+She had said--"I, Mehetabel, take thee, Jonas, to be my wedded
+husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better,
+for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to
+love, cherish and obey, till death us do part, according to God's
+holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my troth."
+
+There was no proviso inserted, as a means of escape; nothing
+like: I will be true to thee unless Iver return; unless, thou,
+Bideabout, prove unworthy of my love and obedience; unless there
+be incompatibility of temper; unless I get tired of thee, and
+change my mind.
+
+Mehetabel knew what the words meant, knew that she had been
+sincere in intent when she said them. She knew that she was bound,
+without proviso of any kind.
+
+She knew that she could not love Iver and be guiltless. But she
+was aware also, now, when too late, that she had undertaken towards
+Jonas what was, in a measure, impossible.
+
+Loyal to Jonas as far as outward conduct could make her, that she
+was confident she would remain, but her heart had slipped beyond
+her control, and her thoughts were winged and refused to be caged.
+
+"I say, Matabel!"
+
+The young wife started, and her bosom contracted. Her husband
+spoke. He had come on her at a moment when, lost in day-dreams,
+she least expected, desired, his presence.
+
+"What do you want with me, Jonas?" she asked as she recovered her
+composure.
+
+"I want you to go to the Ship. The old woman there has fallen out
+with the maid, and there are three gentlemen come for the shooting,
+and want to be attended to. The old woman asked if you would help
+a bit. I said 'Dun know:' but after a bit we agreed for a shilling
+a day."
+
+"Never!" gasped Mehetabel.
+
+"I tried to screw more out of her necessity, but could not.
+Besides, if you do well, you'll get half a crown from each of
+the gents, and that'll be seven and six; and say three days at
+the Inn, half-a-guinea all in all. I can spare you for that."
+
+"Jonas, I do not wish to go."
+
+"But I choose that you shall."
+
+"I pray you allow me to remain here."
+
+"There's Mr. Iver leaves to-day for his shop at Guildford, and I
+reckon the old woman is put about over that, too."
+
+After some hesitation Mehetabel yielded. The thought that Iver
+would not be at the Ship alone induced her to consent.
+
+She was hurt and angry that her husband had stipulated for payment
+for her services. After the kindness, the generosity with which
+she had been treated, this seemed ungracious in the extreme. She
+said as much.
+
+"I don't see it," answered Jonas. "When you wos a baby she made
+the parish pay her for taking you. Now she wants you, it is her
+turn to pay."
+
+Bideabout did not allow his wife much time in which to make her
+preparations. He had business in Godalming with a lawyer, and was
+going to drive old Clutch thither. He would take Mehetabel with
+him as far as Thursley.
+
+On reaching the tavern Mrs. Verstage met her with effusion, and
+Iver, hearing his mother's exclamation, ran out.
+
+Mehetabel was surprised and confused at seeing him. He caught her
+by the hand, helped her to descend from the cart, and retained his
+hold of her fingers for a minute after it was necessary.
+
+He had told his mother that he must return to Guildford that day;
+and when she had asked for Mehetabel's help she had calculated on
+the absence of her son, who had been packing up his canvas and
+paints. To him she had not breathed a word of the likelihood that
+Mehetabel would be coming to her aid.
+
+"I daresay Bideabout will give you a lift, Iver," she said.
+
+"I don't know that I can," said Jonas. "I've promised to pick up
+Lintott, and there ain't room in the trap for more than two."
+
+Then the Broom-Squire drove away.
+
+"See, Matabel," said Iver, pointing to the signboard, "I've
+redaubed the Old Ship, quite to my father's satisfaction. By Jove,
+I told mother I should return to Guildford to-day--but now, hang
+me, if I do not defer my departure for a day or two."
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked reproachfully at her son.
+
+"Mother," said he in self-exculpation. "I shall take in ideas, a
+model costs me from a shilling to half-acrown an hour, and here
+is Matabel, a princess of models, will sit for nothing."
+
+"I shall be otherwise employed," said the girl, in confusion.
+
+"Indeed, I shan't spare her for any of that nonsense," said Mrs.
+Verstage.
+
+The hostess was much perplexed. She had reckoned on her son's
+departure before Mehetabel arrived. She would not have asked for
+her assistance if she had not been convinced that he would take
+himself off.
+
+She expostulated. Iver must not neglect his business, slight
+his engagements. He had resolved to go, and had no right to
+shilly-shally, and change his mind. She required his room. He
+would be in the way with the guests.
+
+To all these objections Iver had an answer. In fine, said he, with
+Mehetabel in the house he could not and he would not go.
+
+What was Mehetabel to do? Jonas had locked up his house and had
+carried away the key with him; moreover, to return now was a
+confession of weakness. What was Mrs. Verstage to do? She had
+three visitors, real gentlemen, in the house. They must be made
+comfortable; and the new servant, Polly, according to her notion,
+was a hopeless creature, slatternly, forgetful, impudent.
+
+There was no one on whom the landlady could fall back, except
+Mehetabel, who understood her ways, and was certain to give
+satisfaction. Mrs. Verstage was not what she had once been, old
+age, and more than that, an internal complaint, against which she
+had fought, in which she had refused to believe, had quite recently
+asserted itself, and she was breaking down.
+
+There was consequently no help for it. She resolved to keep a sharp
+lookout on the young people, and employ Mehetabel unremittingly.
+But of one thing she was confident. Mehetabel was not a person to
+forget her duty and self-respect.
+
+The agitation produced by finding that Iver purposed remaining in
+the house passed away, and Mehetabel faced the inevitable.
+
+Wherever her eye rested, memories of a happy girlhood welled up in
+her soft and suffering breast. The geraniums in the window she had
+watered daily. The canary--she had fed it with groundsel. The
+brass skillets on the mantelshelf--they had been burnished by her
+hand. The cushion on "father's" chair was of her work. Everything
+spoke to her of the past, and of a happy past, without sharp
+sorrows, without carking cares.
+
+Old Simon was rejoiced to see Mehetabel again in the house. He
+made her sit beside him. He took her hand in his, and patted it.
+A pleasant smile, like a sunbeam, lit up his commonplace features.
+
+"Mother and I have had a deal to suffer since you've been gone,"
+said Simon. "The girl Polly be that stupid and foreright (awkward)
+we shall be drove mad, both of us, somewhen."
+
+"Do you see that window-pane?" he asked, pointing to a gap in the
+casement. "Polly put her broom handle through. There was not one
+pane broke all the time you was with us, and now there be three
+gone, and no glazier in the village to put 'em to rights. You
+mind the blue pranked (striped) chiney taypot? Mother set great
+store on that. Polly's gone and knocked the spout off. Mother's
+put about terrible over that taypot. As for the best sheets,
+Polly's burnt a hole through one, let a cinder fly out on it, when
+airing. Mother's in a pretty way over that sheet. I don't know
+what there'll be to eat, Polly left the larder open, and the dog
+has carried off a leg of mutton. It has been all cross and contrary
+ever since you went."
+
+Simon mused a while, holding Mehetabel's hand, and said after a
+pause, "It never ort to a' been. You was well placed here and never
+ort to a' left. It was all mother's doing. She drove you into
+weddin' that there Broom-Squire. Women can't be easy unless they
+be hatchin' weddin's; just like as broody hens must be sittin' on
+somethin'. If that had never been brought about, then the taypot
+spout would not have been knocked off, nor the winder-pane broken,
+nor the sheet riddled wi' a cinder, nor the dog gone off wi' the
+leg o' mutton."
+
+Mehetabel was unable to suppress a sigh.
+
+"Winter be comin' on," pursued the old man, "and mother's gettin'
+infirm, and a bit contrary. When Polly worrits her, then I ketches
+it. That always wos her way. I don't look forward to winter. I
+don't look forward to nuthin' now--" He became sorrowful. "All be
+gone to sixes and sevens, now that you be gone, Matabel. What will
+happen I dun' know, I dun' know."
+
+"What may happen," said Mehetabel, "is not always what we expect.
+But one thing is certain--lost happiness is past recovery."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+GONE.
+
+
+During the evening Iver was hardly able to take his eyes off
+Mehetabel, as she passed to and fro in the kitchen.
+
+She knew where was every article that was needed for the gentlemen.
+She moved noiselessly, did everything without fuss, without haste.
+
+He thought over the words she had uttered, and he had overheard:
+Lost happiness is past recovery. Not only was she bereft of
+happiness, but so was he. His father and mother, when too late,
+had found that they also had parted with theirs when they had let
+Mehetabel leave the house.
+
+She moved gracefully. She was slender, her every motion merited
+to be sketched. Iver's artistic sense was excited to admiration.
+What a girl she was! What a model! Oh, that he had her as his own!
+
+Mehetabel knew that she was watched, and it disconcerted her. She
+was constrained to exercise great self-control; not to let slip
+what she carried, not to forget what tasks had to be discharged.
+
+In her heart she glowed with pride at the thought that Iver loved
+her--that he, the prince, the idol of her childhood, should have
+retained a warm place in his heart for her. And yet, the thought,
+though sweet, was bitter as well, fraught with foreshadowings of
+danger.
+
+Mrs. Verstage also watched Mehetabel, and her son likewise, with
+anxious eyes.
+
+The old man left the house to attend to his cattle; and one of
+the gentlemen came to the kitchen-door to invite Iver, whose
+acquaintance he had made during the day, to join him and his
+companions over a bowl of punch.
+
+The young man was unable to refuse, but left with reluctance
+manifest enough to his mother and Mehetabel.
+
+Then, when the hostess was alone with the girl, she drew her to
+her side, and said, "There is now nothing to occupy you. Sit by me
+and tell me about yourself and how you get on with Bideabout. You
+have no notion how pleased I am to have you here again."
+
+Mehetabel kissed the old woman, and a tear from her eye fell on
+the withering cheek of the landlady.
+
+"I dare be bound you find it lonely in the new home," said Mrs.
+Verstage. "Here, in an inn, there is plenty of life; but in the
+farm you are out of the world. How does the Broom-Squire treat
+you?"
+
+She awaited an answer with anxiety, which she was unable to
+disguise.
+
+After a pause Mehetabel replied, with heightened color, "Jonas is
+not unkind."
+
+"You can't expect love-making every day," said the hostess. "It's
+the way of men to promise the sun, moon, and planets, till you are
+theirs, and after that, then poor women must be content to be
+given a spark off a fallen star. There was Jamaica Cheel runn'd
+away with his Betsy because he thought the law wouldn't let him
+have her; she was the wife of another, you know. Then he found
+she never had been proper married to the other chap, and when he
+discovered he was fast tied to Betsy he'd a run away from her
+only the law wouldn't let him. Jonas ain't beautiful and young,
+that I allow."
+
+"I knew what he was when I married him," answered Mehetabel. "I
+cannot say I find him other than what I expected."
+
+"But is he kind to you?"
+
+"I said he was not unkind."
+
+Mrs. Verstage looked questioningly at her adopted child. "I don't
+know," she said, with quivering lips. "I suppose I was right. I
+acted for the best. God knows I sought your happiness. Do not
+tell me that you are unhappy."
+
+"Who is happy?" asked Mehetabel, and turned her eyes on the
+hostess, to read alarm and distress in her face. "Do not trouble
+yourself about me, mother. I knew what I was doing when I took
+Jonas. I had no expectation of finding the Punch-Bowl to be
+Paradise. It takes a girl some time to get settled into fresh
+quarters, and to feel comfortable among strangers. That is mainly
+my case. I was perhaps spoiled when here, you were so kind to me.
+I thank you, mother, that you have not forgotten me in your great
+joy at getting Iver home again."
+
+"There was Thomasine French bought two penn'orth o' shrimps, and
+as her husband weren't at home thought to enjoy herself prodigious.
+But she came out red as a biled lobster. With the best intentions
+things don't always turn out as expected," said Mrs. Verstage,
+"and the irritation was like sting nettles and--wuss." Then, after
+a pause, "I don't know how it is, all my life I have wished to
+have Iver by me. He went away because he wanted to be a painter;
+he has come back, after many years, and is not all I desire. Now
+he is goyn away. I could endure that if I were sure he loved me.
+But I don't think he does. He cares more for his father, who sent
+him packin' than he does for me, who never crossed him. I don't
+understand him. He is not the same as he was."
+
+"Iver is a child no longer," said Mehetabel. "You must not expect
+of him more than he can give. What you said to me about a husband
+is true also of a child. Of course, he loves you, but he does not
+show it as fully as you desire. He has something else now to fill
+his heart beside a mother."
+
+"What is that?" asked Mrs. Verstage, nervously.
+
+"His art," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"Oh, that!" The landlady was not wholly satisfied, she stood up
+and said with a sigh, "I fancy life be much like one o' them bran
+pies at a bazaar. Some pulls out a pair of braces as don't wear
+trousers, and others pull out garters as wears nuthin' but socks.
+'Tis a chance if you get wot's worth havin. Well, I must go look
+out another sheet in place of that Polly has burnt."
+
+"Let me do that, mother."
+
+"No, as you may remember, I have always managed the linen myself."
+
+A few minutes later, after she had left the room, Iver returned.
+He had escaped from the visitors on some excuse.
+
+His heart was a prey to vague yearnings and doubts.
+
+With pleasure he observed that his mother was no longer in the
+kitchen. He saw Mehetabel hastily dry her eyes. He knew that she
+had been crying, and he thought he could divine the cause.
+
+"You are going to Guildford to-morrow morning, are you not?" she
+asked hastily.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Iver planted himself on a stool before the fire, where he could
+look up into Mehetabel's face, as she sat in the settle.
+
+"You have your profession to attend to," she said. "You do not
+know your own mind. You are changeful as a girl."
+
+"How can I go--with you here?" he exclaimed, vehemently.
+
+She turned her head away. He was looking at her with burning eyes.
+
+"Iver," she said, "I pray you be more loving to your mother. You
+have made her heart ache. It is cruel not to do all you can now to
+make amends to her for the past. She thinks that you do not love
+her. She is failing in health, and you must not drip drops of
+fresh sorrow into her heart during her last years."
+
+Iver made a motion of impatience.
+
+"I love my mother. Of course I love her."
+
+"Not as truly as you should, Iver," answered Mehetabel. "You do
+not consider the long ache--"
+
+"And I, had not I a long ache when away from home?"
+
+"You had your art to sustain you. She had but one thought--and that
+of you."
+
+"She has done me a cruel wrong," said he, irritably.
+
+"She has never done anything to you but good, and out of love,"
+answered the girl vehemently.
+
+"To me; that is not it."
+
+Mehetabel raised her eyes and looked at him. He was gazing moodily
+at the fire.
+
+"She has stabbed me through you," exclaimed Iver, with a sudden
+outburst of passion. "Why do you plead my mother's cause, when
+it was she--I know it was she, and none but she--who thrust you
+into this hateful, this accursed marriage."
+
+"No, Iver, no!" cried Mehetabel in alarm. "Do not say this. Iver!
+talk of something else."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of anything."
+
+"Very well," said he, relapsing into his dissatisfied mood. "You
+asked me once what my dream had been, that I dreamt that first
+night under your roof. I will tell you this now. I thought that
+you and I had been married, not you and Jonas, you and I, as it
+should have been. And I thought that I looked at you, and your
+face was deadly pale, and the hand I held was clay cold."
+
+A chill ran through Mehetabel's veins. She said, "There is some
+truth in it, Iver. You hold a dead girl by the hand. To you, I am,
+I must be, forever--dead."
+
+"Nonsense. All will come right somehow."
+
+"Yes, Iver," she said; "it will so. You are free and will go
+about, and will see and love and marry a girl worthy of you in
+every way. As for me, my lot is cast in the Punch-Bowl. No power
+on earth can separate me from Bideabout. I have made my bed and
+must lie on it, though it be one of thorns. There is but one
+thing for us both--we must part and meet no more."
+
+"Matabel," he put forth his hand in protest.
+
+"I have spoken plainly," she said, "because there is no good in
+not doing so. Do not make my part more difficult. Be a man--go."
+
+"Matabel! It shall not be, it cannot be! My love! My only one."
+
+He tried to grasp her.
+
+She sprang from the settle. A mist formed before her eyes. She
+groped for something by which to stay herself.
+
+He seized her by the waist. She wrenched herself free.
+
+"Let me go!" she cried. "Let me go!"
+
+She spoke hoarsely. Her eyes were staring as if she saw a spirit.
+She staggered back beyond his reach, touched the jambs of the
+door, grasped them with a grasp of relief. Then, actuated by a
+sudden thought, turned and fled from the room, from the house.
+
+Iver stood for a minute bewildered. Her action had been so
+unexpected that he did not know what to think, what to do.
+
+He went to the porch and looked up the road, then down it, and did
+not see her.
+
+Mrs. Verstage, came out. "Where is Matabel?" she asked, uneasily.
+
+"Gone!" said Iver. "Mother--gone!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THOR'S STONE.
+
+
+Mehetabel ran, neither along the way that led in the direction of
+Portsmouth, nor along that to Godalming, but to the Moor.
+
+"The Moor," is the marsh land that lies at the roots of the
+sandstone heights that culminate in Hind Head, Leith Hill, and
+the Devil's Jumps. As already said, the great mass of Bagshot sand
+lies upon a substratum of clay. The sand drinks in every drop of
+rain that falls on the surface. This percolates through it till
+it reaches the clay, which refuses to absorb it, or let it sink
+through to other beds. Thereupon the accumulated water breaks
+forth in springs at the base of the hills, and forms a wide tract
+of morass, interspersed with lagoons that teem with fish and wild
+fowl. This region is locally known as "Moor," in contradistinction
+to the commons or downs, which are the dry sandy upland.
+
+"The Moor" is in many places impassable, but the blown sand has
+fallen upon it, and has formed slight elevations, has drifted
+into undulations, and these strips of rising ground, kept moist
+by the water they absorb, have become covered with vegetation. It
+is, moreover, possible by their means to penetrate to the heart
+of, and even thread, the intricacies, and traverse the entire
+region of the Moor.
+
+But it is, at best, a wild and lonesome district, to be explored
+with caution, a labyrinth, the way through which is known only to
+the natives of the sandhills that dominate the marshy plain.
+
+About thirty years ago a benevolent and beneficent landlord, in a
+time of agricultural distress, gave employment to a large number
+of men out of work in the construction of a causeway across the
+Thursley "Moor."
+
+But the work was of no real utility, and it is now overgrown with
+weeds, and only trodden by the sportsman in pursuit of game and
+the naturalist in quest of rare insects and water plants.
+
+A considerable lake, Pudmere, or Pug--Puckmere, lies in the
+Thursley marsh land, surrounded with dwarf willows and scattered
+pines. These latter have sprung from the wind-blown seeds of the
+plantations on higher ground. Throughout this part of the country
+an autumn gale always results in the upspringing of a forest of
+young pines, next year, to leeward of a clump of cone-bearing
+trees. In the Moor such self-sown woods come to no ripeness. The
+pines are unhealthy and stunted, hung with gray moss, and eaten
+out with canker. The excessive moisture and the impenetrable
+subsoil, and the shallowness of the congenial sand that encouraged
+them to root make the young trees decay in adolescence.
+
+An abundant and varied insect world has its home in the Moor. The
+large brown hawkmoth darts about like an arrow. Dragon flies of
+metallic blue, or striped yellow and brown, hover above the lanes
+of water, lost in admiration of their own gorgeous selves reflected
+in the still surface. The great water-beetle booms against the head
+of the intruder, and then drops as a stone into the pool at his
+feet. Effets, saffron yellow bellied, with striped backs, swim in
+the ponds or crawl at their bottom. The natterjack, so rare
+elsewhere, differing from a toad in that it has a yellow band down
+its back, has here a paradise. It may be seen at eve perched on
+a stock of willow herb, or running--it does not hop--round the
+sundew, clearing the glutinous stamens of the flies that have been
+caught by them, and calling in a tone like the warning note of
+the nightingale. Sleeping on the surface the carp lies, and will
+not be scared save by a stone thrown into the still water in which
+it dreams away its life.
+
+The sandy elevations are golden with tormintilla; a richer gold is
+that which lies below, where the marsh glows with bog asphodel.
+The flowering rush spreads its pale pink blossoms; a deeper crimson
+is the marsh orchis showing its spires among the drooping clusters
+of the waxy-pink, cross-leaved heath, and the green or pale and
+rosy-tinted bog-mosses.
+
+Near Pudmoor Pool stands a gray block of ironstone, a solitary
+portion of the superincumbent bed that has been washed away. It
+resembles a gigantic anvil, and it goes by the name of Thor's
+Stone. The slopes that dip towards it are the Thor's-lea, and give
+their name to the parish that includes it and them.
+
+At one time there was a similar mass of iron at the summit of
+Borough Hill, that looks down upon the morasses.
+
+To this many went who were in trouble or necessity, and knocking
+on the stone made known their requirements to the Pucksies, and
+it was asserted, and generally believed, that such applicants had
+not gone away unanswered, nor unrelieved.
+
+It was told of a certain woman who one evening sought to be freed
+by this means from the husband who had made her life unendurable,
+that that same night--so ran the tale--he was returning from the
+tavern, drunk, and stumbling over the edge of a quarry fell and
+broke his neck. Thereupon certain high moralists and busybodies
+had the mass of stone broken up and carted away to mend the roads,
+with the expectation thereby of putting an end to what they were
+pleased to term "a degrading superstition."
+
+To some extent the destruction of the Wishing Block did check the
+practice. But there continued to be persons in distress, and women
+plagued with drunken husbands, and men afflicted with scolding
+wives. And when the pilgrimage of such to Borough Hill ceased,
+because of the destruction of the stone on it, then was it diverted,
+and the current flowed instead to Thor's Stone--a stone that had
+long been regarded with awe, and which now became an object of
+resort, as it was held to have acquired the merits of the block
+so wantonly demolished on Borough Hill.
+
+Nevertheless, the object of the high moralists and busybodies was
+partially attained, inasmuch as the difficulties and dangers
+attending a visit to Thor's Stone reduced the number of those
+seeking superhuman assistance in their difficulties. Courage was
+requisite in one who ventured to the Moor at night, and made a
+way to the iron-stone block, over tracts of spongy morass, among
+lines of stagnant ooze, through coppices of water-loving willows
+and straggling brier. This, which was difficult by day, was
+dangerous in a threefold degree at night. Moreover, the Moor was
+reputed to be haunted by spirits, shadows that ran and leaped,
+and peered and jabbered; and Puck wi' the lantern flickered over
+the surface of the festering bog.
+
+If, then, the visits to Thor's Stone were not so many as to
+the stone on Borough Hill, this was due less to the waning of
+superstition than to the difficulties attending an expedition
+to the former. Without considering what she was doing, moved by
+a blind impulse, Mehetabel ran in the direction of Puck's Moor.
+
+And yet the impulse was explicable. She had often thought over
+the tales told of visits to the habitation of the "Good Folk"
+on Borough Hill, and the transfer of the pilgrimage to Thor's
+Stone. She had, of late, repeatedly asked herself whether, by a
+visit thither, she might not gain what lay at her heart--an
+innocent desire--none other than that Iver should depart.
+
+Now that he had made open show of his passion, that all concealment
+was over between them, every veil and disguise plucked away--now
+she felt that her strength was failing her, and it would fail
+completely if subjected to further trial.
+
+One idea, like a spark of fire shooting through her brain, alone
+possessed her at this moment. Her safety depended on one thing--the
+removal of Iver. Let him go! Let him go! then she could bear her
+lot. Let her see him no more! then she would be able to bring
+her truant heart under discipline. Otherwise her life would be
+unendurable, her tortured brain would give way, her overtaxed
+heart would break.
+
+She found no stay for her soul in the knowledge where was situated
+the country of the Gergesenes, no succor in being well drilled
+in the number of chapters in Genesis. She turned desperately, in
+her necessity, to Thor's Stone, to the spirits--what they were
+she knew not--who aided those in need, and answered petitions
+addressed to them.
+
+The night had already set in, but a full golden moon hung in the
+sky, and the night was in no way dark and dreadful.
+
+When she reached the Moor, Mehetabel ran among sheets of gold,
+leaped ribbons of shining metal, danced among golden filagree--the
+reflection of the orb in the patches, channels, frets of water.
+She sprang from one dark tuft of rushes to another; she ran
+along the ridges of the sand. She skipped where the surface
+was treacherous. What mattered it to her if she missed her footing,
+sank, and the ooze closed over her? As well end so a life that
+could never be other than long drawn agony.
+
+Before leaving the heath, she had stooped and picked up a stone.
+It was a piece of hematite iron, such as frequently occurs in the
+sand, liver-shaped, and of the color of liver.
+
+She required a hammer, wherewith to knock on Thor's anvil, and
+make her necessities known, and this piece of iron would serve
+her purpose.
+
+Frogs were croaking, a thousand natterjacks were whirring like
+the nightjar. Strange birds screamed and rushed out of the trees
+as she sped along. White moths, ghostlike, wavered about her,
+mosquitoes piped. Water-rats plunged into the pools.
+
+As a child she had been familiar with Pudmoor, and instinctively
+she walked, ran, only where her foot could rest securely.
+
+A special Providence, it is thought, watches over children and
+drunkards. It watches also over such as are drunk with trouble,
+it holds them up when unable to think for themselves, it holds
+them back when they court destruction.
+
+To this morass, Mehetabel had come frequently with Iver, in days
+long gone by, to hunt the natterjack and the dragon-fly, to look
+for the eggs of water fowl, and to pick marsh flowers.
+
+As she pushed on, a thin mist spread over portions of the "Moor."
+It did not lie everywhere, it spared the sand, it lay above the
+water, but in so delicate a film as to be all but imperceptible.
+It served to diffuse the moonlight, to make a halo of silver
+about the face of the orb, when looked up to by one within the
+haze, otherwise it was scarcely noticeable.
+
+Mehetabel ran with heart bounding and with fevered brain, and yet
+with her mind holding tenaciously to one idea.
+
+After a while, and after deviations from the direct course, rendered
+necessary by the nature of the country she traversed, Mehetabel
+reached Thor's Stone, that gleamed white in the moonbeam beside a
+sheet of water, the Mere of the Pucksies. This mere had the mist
+lying on it more dense than elsewhere. The vapor rested on the
+surface as a fine gossamer veil, not raised above a couple of feet,
+hardly ruffled by a passing sigh of air. A large bird floated over
+it on expanded wings, it looked white as a swan in the moonlight,
+but cast a shadow black as pitch on the vaporous sheet that covered
+the face of the pool.
+
+It was as though, like Dinorah, this bird were dancing to its own
+shadow. But unlike Dinorah, it was silent. It uttered no song,
+there was even no sound of the rush of air from its broad wings.
+When Mehetabel reached the stone she stood for a moment palpitating,
+gasping for breath, and her breath passing from her lips in white
+puffs of steam.
+
+The haze from the mere seemed to rise and fling its long streamers
+about her head and blindfold her eyes, so that she could see neither
+the lake nor the trees, not even the anvil-stone. Only was there
+about her a general silvery glitter, and a sense of oppression lay
+upon her.
+
+Mehetabel had escaped from the inn, as she was, with bare arms, her
+skirt looped up.
+
+She stood thus, with the lump of ironstone resting on the block,
+the full flood of moonlight upon her, blinding her eyes, but
+revealing her against a background of foliage, like a statue of
+alabaster. Startled by a rustle in the bulrushes and willow growth
+behind her, Mehetabel turned and looked, but her eyes were not
+clear enough for her to discern anything, and as the sound ceased,
+she recovered from her momentary alarm.
+
+She had heard that a deer was in Pudmoor that was supposed to have
+escaped from the park at Peperharow. Possibly the creature was
+there. It was harmless. There were no noxious beasts there. It was
+too damp for vipers, nothing in Pudmoor was hurtful save the gnats
+that there abounded. Then, with her face turned to the north, away
+from the dazzling glory of the moon, Mehetabel swung the lump of
+kidney iron she had taken as hammer, once from east to west, and
+once from west to east. With a third sweep she brought it down upon
+Thor's Stone and cried:
+
+"Take him away! Take him away!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+IVER! COME.
+
+
+She paused, drew a long breath.
+
+Again she swung the hammer-stone. And now she turned round, and
+passed the piece of iron into her left hand. She raised it and
+struck on the anvil, and cried: "Save me from him. Take him away."
+A rush, all the leaves of the trees behind seemed to be stirring,
+and all the foliage falling about her.
+
+A hand was laid on her shoulder roughly, and the stone dropped
+from her fingers on the anvil. Mehetabel shrank, froze, as struck
+with a sudden icy blast, and cried out with fear.
+
+Then said a voice: "So! you seek the Devil's aid to rid you of me."
+
+At once she knew that she was in the presence of her husband, but
+so dazzled was she that she could not discern him.
+
+His fingers closed on her arm, as though each were an iron screw.
+
+"So!" said he, in a low tone, his voice quivering with rage, "like
+Karon Wyeth, you ask the Devil to break my neck."
+
+"No," gasped Mehetabel.
+
+"Yes, Matabel. I heard you. 'Save me from him. Take him away.'"
+
+"No--no--Jonas."
+
+She could not speak more in her alarm and confusion.
+
+"Take him away. Snap his spine--send a bullet through his skull;
+cast him into Pug's mere and drown him; do what you will, only
+rid me of Bideabout Kink, whom I swore to love, honor, and to obey."
+
+He spoke with bitterness and wrath, sprinkled over, nay, permeated,
+with fear; for, with all his professed rationalism, Jonas
+entertained some ancestral superstitions--and belief in the
+efficacy of the spirits that haunted Thor's Stone was one.
+
+"No, Jonas, no. I did not ask it."
+
+"I heard you."
+
+"Not you."
+
+"What," sneered he; "are not these ears mine?"
+
+"I mean--I did not ask to have you taken away."
+
+"Then whom?"
+
+She was silent. She trembled. She could not answer his question.
+
+If her husband had been at all other than he was, Mehetabel would
+have taken him into her confidence. But there are certain persons
+to whom to commit a confidence is to expose yourself to insult and
+outrage. Mehetabel knew this. Such a confidence as she would have
+given would be turned by him into a means of torture and humiliation.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Jonas, in quivering tones of a voice that
+was suppressed. "I know all now. I did not. I trusted you. I was
+perhaps a fool. I believed in you. But Sarah has told me all--how
+he--that painting ape--has been at my house, meeting you, befooling
+you, pouring his love-tales into your ears, and watching till my
+back was turned to kiss you."
+
+She was unable to speak. Her knees smote together.
+
+"You cannot answer," he continued. "You are unable to deny that it
+was so. Sarah has kept an eye on you both. She should have spoken
+before. I am sorry she did not. But better late than never. You
+encouraged him to come to you. You drew him to the house."
+
+"No, Jonas, no. It was you who invited him."
+
+"Ah! for me he would not come. Little he cared for my society. The
+picture-making was but an excuse, and you all have been in a league
+against me."
+
+"Who--Jonas?"
+
+"Who? Why, Sanna Verstage and all. Did not she ask to have you at
+the Ship, and say that the painting fellow was going or gone? And
+is he not there still? She said it to get you and him together
+there, away from me, out of the reach of Sarah's eyes."
+
+"It is false, Jonas!" exclaimed Mehetabel with indignation, that
+for a while overcame her fear.
+
+"False!" cried Bideabout. "Who is false but you? What is false but
+every word you speak? False in heart, false in word, and false in
+act." He had laid hold of the bit of ironstone, and he struck the
+anvil with it at every charge of falsehood.
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel, recovering self-control under the
+resentment she felt at being misunderstood, and her action
+misinterpreted. "Jonas, I have done you no injury. I was weak.
+God in heaven knows my integrity. I have never wronged you; but
+I was weak, and in deadly fear."
+
+"In fear of whom?"
+
+"Of myself--my own weakness."
+
+"You weak!" he sneered. "You--strong as any woman."
+
+"I do not speak of my arms, Jonas--my heart--my spirit--"
+
+"Weak!" he scoffed. "A woman with a weak and timorous soul would
+not come to Thor's Stone at night. No--strong you are--in evil, in
+wickedness, from which no tears will withhold you. And--that
+fellow--that daub-paint--"
+
+Mehetabel did not speak. She was trembling.
+
+"I ask--what of him? Was not he in your thoughts when you asked
+the Devil to rid you of me--your husband?"
+
+"I did not ask that, Jonas."
+
+"What of him? He has not gone away. He has been with you. You knew
+he was not going. You wanted to be with him. Where is he--this
+dauber of canvas--now?"
+
+Then, through the fine gauze of condensing haze, came a call from
+a distance--"Matabel! Where are you?"
+
+"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire. "Here he comes. By appointment
+you meet him here, where you least expected that I would be."
+
+"It is false, Jonas. I came here to escape."
+
+"And pray for my death?"
+
+"No, Jonas, to be rid of him."
+
+Bideabout chuckled, with a sarcastic sneer in the side of his face.
+
+"Come now," said he; "I should dearly like to witness this meeting.
+If true to me, as you pretend, then obey me, summon him here, and
+let me be present, unobserved, when you meet. If your wish be, as
+you say, to be rid of him, I will help you to its fulfilment."
+
+"Jonas!"
+
+"I will it. So alone can you convince me."
+
+She hesitated. She had not the power to gather her thoughts together,
+to judge what she should do, what under the circumstances would be
+best to be done.
+
+"Come now," repeated Jonas. "If you are true and honest, as you
+say, call him."
+
+She put her trembling hand to her head, wiped the drops from her
+brow, the tears from her eyes, the dew from her quivering lips.
+
+Her brain was reeling, her power of will was paralyzed.
+
+"Come, now," said Jonas once more, "answer him--here am I."
+
+Then Mehetabel cried, "Iver, here am I!"
+
+"Where are you, Mehetabel?" came the question through the silvery
+haze and the twinkling willow-shoots.
+
+"Answer him, by Thor's Stone," said Jonas.
+
+Again she hesitated and passed her hand over her face.
+
+"Answer him," whispered Jonas. "If you are true, do as I say. If
+false, be silent."
+
+"By Thor's Stone," called Mehetabel.
+
+Then all the sound heard was that of the young man brushing his
+way through the rushes and willow boughs.
+
+In the terror, the agony overmastering her, she had lost all
+independent power of will. She was as a piece of mechanism in the
+hands of Jonas. His strong, masterful mind dominated her, beat
+down for a time all opposition. She knew that to summon Iver was
+to call him to a fearful struggle, perhaps to his death, and yet
+the faculty of resistance was momentarily gone from her. She tried
+to collect her thoughts. She could not. She strove to think what
+she ought to do, she was unable to frame a thought in her mind
+that whirled and reeled.
+
+Bideabout stooped and picked up a gun he had been carrying, and
+had dropped on the turf when he laid hold of his wife.
+
+Now he placed the barrel across the anvil stone, with the muzzle
+directed whence came the sound of the advance of Iver.
+
+Jonas went behind the stone and bent one knee to the ground.
+
+Mehetabel heard the click as he spanned the trigger.
+
+"Stand on one side," said Jonas, in a low tone, in which were
+mingled rage and exultation. "Call him again."
+
+She was silent. Lest she should speak she pressed both her hands
+to her mouth.
+
+"Call him again," said Jonas. "I will receive him with a dab of
+lead in his heart."
+
+She would not call.
+
+"On your obedience and truth, of which you vaunt," persisted Jonas.
+
+Should she utter a cry of warning? Would he comprehend? Would that
+arrest him, make him retrace his steps, escape what menaced?
+
+Whether she cried or not he would come on. He knew Thor's Stone
+as well as she. They had often visited it together as children.
+
+"If false, keep silence," said Jonas, looking up at her from where
+he knelt. "If true, bid him come--to his death, that I may carry
+out your wish, and rid you of him. If the spirits won't help you,
+I will."
+
+Then she shrilly cried, "Iver, come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A SHOT.
+
+
+After Bideabout had done his business in Godalming he had returned
+to the Punch-Bowl.
+
+The news had reached his ears that a deer had been seen on the
+Moor, and he knew that on the following day many guns would be out,
+as every man in Thursley was a sportsman. With characteristic
+cunning he resolved to forestall his fellows, go forth at night,
+which he might well do when the moon was full, and secure the deer
+for himself.
+
+As he left the house, he encountered his sister.
+
+"Where are you going off to?" she inquired. "And got a gun too."
+
+He informed her of his intention.
+
+"Ah! you'll give us some of the venison," said she.
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," answered the Broom-Squire, churlishly.
+
+"So you are going stag-hunting? That's purely," laughed she.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I should have thought you'd best a' gone after your own wife, and
+brought her home."
+
+"She is all right--at the Ship."
+
+"I know she is at the Ship--just where she ought not to be; just
+where you should not let her be."
+
+"She'll earn a little money."
+
+"Oh, money!" scoffed Sarah Rocliffe. "What fools men be, and set
+themselves up as wiser than all the world of women. You've had
+Iver Verstage here; you've invited him over to paint your Matabel;
+and here he has been, admiring her, saying soft things to her, and
+turnin' her head. Sometimes you've been present. Most times you've
+been away. And now you've sent her to the Ship, and you are off
+stag huntin'." Then with strident voice, the woman sang, and looked
+maliciously at her brother.
+
+  "Oh, it blew a pleasant gale,
+   As a frite under sail,
+   Came a-bearing to the south along the strand.
+   With her swelling canvas spread.
+   But without an ounce of lead,
+   And a signalling, alack t she was ill-manned."
+
+With a laugh, and a snap of her fingers in Bideabout's face, she
+repeated tauntingly:--
+
+  "And a-signalling, alack I she was ill-manned."
+
+Then she burst forth again:--
+
+  "She was named the Virgin Dove,
+   With a lading, all of love.
+   And she signalled, that for Venus (Venice) she was bound.
+   But a pilot who could steer.
+   She required, for sore her fear,
+   Lest without one she should chance to run aground."
+
+"Be silent, you croaking raven," shouted the Broom-Squire. "If you
+think to mock me, you are wrong. I know well enough what I am about.
+As for that painting chap, he is gone--gone to Guildford."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because the landlady said as much."
+
+"What--to you?"
+
+"Yes, to me."
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe laughed mockingly.
+
+"Oh, Bideabout," she said, "did not that open your eyes? What did
+Sanna Verstage mean when she asked you to allow your wife to go to
+the inn! What did she mean but this?" she mimicked the mistress,
+"'Please, Master Bideabout, may Matabel come to me for a day or
+two--that naughty boy of mine is away now. So don't be frightened.
+I know very well that if he were at the Ship you might hesitate to
+send Matabel there.'" Then in her own tones Sarah Rocliffe said.
+"That is the meaning of it. But I don't believe that he is gone."
+
+"Sanna Verstage don't tell lies."
+
+"If he were gone, Matabel would not be so keen to go there."
+
+"Matabel was not keen. She did not wish to go."
+
+"She did wish it; but she made a pretence before you that she did
+not."
+
+"Hold your slanderous tongue," shouted Jonas. "I'll not hear another
+word."
+
+"Then you must shut your ears to what all the parish is saying."
+
+Thereupon she told him what she had seen, with amplifications of
+her own. She was glad to have the opportunity of angering or
+wounding her brother; of sowing discord between him and his wife.
+
+When he parted from her, she cast after him the remark--"I believe
+he is still at the Ship."
+
+In a mood the reverse of cheerful, angry with Mehetabel, raging
+against Iver, cursing himself, and overflowing with spite against
+his sister Jonas went to the Moor in quest of the strayed deer. He
+knew very well that his sister bore Mehetabel a grudge; he was
+sufficiently acquainted with her rancorous humor and unscrupulous
+tongue to know that what she said was not to be relied on, yet
+discount as he might what she had told him, he was assured that a
+substratum of truth lay at the bottom.
+
+Before entering the morass Jonas halted, and leaning on his gun,
+considered whether he should not go to the tavern, reclaim his
+wife and reconduct her home, instead of going after game. But he
+thought that such a proceeding might be animadverted upon; he
+relied upon Mrs. Verstage's words, that Iver was departing to his
+professional work, and he was eager to secure the game for himself.
+
+Accordingly he directed his course to the Moor, and stole along
+softly, listening for the least sound of the deer, and keeping his
+eye on the alert to observe her.
+
+He had been crouching in a bush near the pool when he was startled
+by the apparition of Mehetabel.
+
+At first he had supposed that the sound of steps proceeded from the
+advancing deer, for which he was on the watch, and he lay close,
+with his barrel loaded, and his finger on the trigger. But in place
+of the deer his own wife approached, indistinctly seen in the
+moonlight, so that he did not recognize her. And his heart stood
+still, numbed by panic, for he thought he saw a spirit. But as the
+form drew near he knew Mehetabel.
+
+Perplexed, he remained still, to observe her further movements.
+Then he saw her approach the stone of Thor, strike on it with an
+extemporized hammer, and cry, "Save me from him! Take him away!"
+
+Perhaps it was not unreasonable that he at once concluded that she
+referred to himself.
+
+He knew that she did not love him. Instead of each day of married
+life drawing more closely the bonds that bound them together, it
+really seemed to relax such as did exist. She became colder,
+withdrew more into herself, shrank from his clumsy amiabilities, and
+kept the door of her heart resolutely shut against all intrusion.
+She went through her household duties perfunctorily, as might a
+slave for a hated master.
+
+If she did not love him, if her married life was becoming
+intolerable, then it was obvious that she sought relief from it,
+and the only means of relief open to her lay through his death.
+
+But there was something more that urged her on to desire this. She
+not merely disliked him, but loved another, and over his coffin she
+would leap into that other man's arms. As Karon Wyeth had aimed at
+and secured the death of her husband, so did Mehetabel seek
+deliverance from him.
+
+Bideabout sprang from his lurking-place to check her in the midst
+of her invocation, and to avert the danger that menaced himself.
+And now he saw the very man draw nigh who had withdrawn the heart
+of his wife from him, and had made his home miserable; the man on
+behalf of whom Mehetabel had summoned supernatural aid to rid her
+of himself.
+
+Kneeling behind Thor's Stone, with the steel barrel of his gun laid
+on the anvil, and pointed in the direction whence came Iver's
+voice, he waited till his rival should appear, and draw within
+range, that he might shoot him through the heart.
+
+"Summon him again," he whispered.
+
+"Iver come!" called Mehetabel.
+
+Then through the illuminated haze, like an atmosphere of glow-worm's
+light, himself black against a background of shining water, appeared
+the young man.
+
+Jonas had his teeth clenched; his breath hissed like the threat of
+a serpent, as he drew a long inspiration through them.
+
+"You are there!" shouted Iver, joyously, and ran forward.
+
+She felt a thrill run through the barrel, on which she had laid
+her hand; she saw a movement of the shoulder of Jonas, and was
+aware that he was preparing to fire.
+
+Instantly she snatched the gun to her, laid the muzzle against her
+own side, and said: "Fire!" She spoke again. "So all will be well."
+
+Then she cried in piercing tones, "Iver! run! run! he is here, and
+he seeks to kill you."
+
+Jonas sprang to his feet with a curse, and endeavored to wrest the
+gun from Mehetabel's hand. But she held it fast. She clung to it
+with tenacity, with the whole of her strength, so that he was unable
+to pluck it away.
+
+And still she cried, "Run, Iver, run; he will kill you!"
+
+"Let go!" yelled Bideabout. He set his foot against Thor's Stone;
+he twisted the gun about, he turned it this way, that way, to
+wrench it out of her hands.
+
+"I will not!" she gasped.
+
+"It is loaded! It will go off!"
+
+"I care not."
+
+"Oh, no! so long as it shoots me."
+
+"Send the lead into my heart!"
+
+"Then let go. But no! the bullet is not for you. Let go, I say, or
+I will brain you with the butt end, and then shoot him!"
+
+"I will not! Kill me if you will!"
+
+Strong, athletic, lithe in her movements, Mehetabel was a match for
+the small muscular Jonas. If he succeeded for a moment in twisting
+the gun out of her hands it was but for an instant. She had caught
+the barrel again at another point.
+
+He strove to beat her knuckles against Thor's Stone, but she was
+too dexterous for him. By a twist she brought his hand against the
+block instead of her own.
+
+With an oath he cast himself upon her, by the impact, by the weight,
+to throw her down. Under the burden she fell on her knees, but did
+not relinquish her hold on the gun. On the contrary she obtained
+greater power over it, and held the barrel athwart her bosom, and
+wove her arms around it.
+
+Iver was hastening to her assistance. He saw that some contest was
+going on, but was not able to discern either with whom Mehetabel
+was grappling nor what was the meaning of the struggle.
+
+In his attempt to approach, Iver was regardless where he trod. He
+sank over his knees in the mire, and was obliged to extricate
+himself before he could advance.
+
+With difficulty, by means of oziers, he succeeded in reaching firm
+soil, and then, with more circumspection, he sought a way by which
+he might come to the help of Mehetabel.
+
+Meanwhile, regardless of the contest of human passion, raging close
+by, the great bird swung like a pendulum above the mere, and its
+shadow swayed below it.
+
+"Let go! I will murder you, if you do not!" hissed Jonas. "You
+think I will kill him. So I will, but I will kill you first."
+
+"Iver! help!" cried Mehetabel; her strength was abandoning her.
+
+The Broom-Squire dragged his kneeling wife forward, and then thrust
+her back. He held the gun by the stock and the end of the barrel.
+The rest was grappled by her, close to her bosom.
+
+He sought to throw her on her face, then on her back. So only could
+he wrench the gun away.
+
+"Ah, ah!" with a shout of triumph.
+
+He had disengaged the barrel from her arm. He turned it sharply
+upward, to twist it out of her hold she had with the other arm.
+
+Then--suddenly--an explosion, a flash, a report, a cry; and
+Bideabout staggered back and fell.
+
+A rush of wings.
+
+The large bird that had vibrated above the water had been alarmed,
+and now flew away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE IRON-STONE HAMMER.
+
+
+For a couple of minutes complete, death-like silence ensued.
+
+Mehetabel, panting, everything swimming, turning before her eyes,
+remained motionless on her knees, but rested her hands on Thor's
+Stone, to save herself from falling on her face.
+
+What had happened she hardly knew. The gun had been discharged, and
+then had fallen before her knees. Whom had it injured? What was
+the injury done?
+
+She was unable to see, through the veil of tears that covered her
+eyes. She had not voice wherewith to speak.
+
+Iver, moreover, stood motionless, holding to a willow. He also was
+ignorant of what had occurred. Was the shot aimed at him, or at
+Mehetabel? Who had fired?
+
+Crouching against a bush, into which he had staggered and then
+collapsed, was the Broom-Squire. A sudden spasm of pain had shot
+through him at the flash of the gun. That he was struck he knew,
+to what extent injured he could not guess.
+
+As he endeavored to raise one hand, the left, in which was the seat
+of pain, he became aware that his arm was stiff and powerless. He
+could not move his fingers.
+
+The blood was coursing over his hand in a warm stream.
+
+A horrible thought rushed through his brain. He was at the mercy of
+that woman who had invoked the Devil against him, and of the lover
+on whose account she had desired his death. She had called, and in
+part had been answered. He was wounded, and incapable of defending
+himself. This guilty pair would complete the work, kill him; blow
+out his brains, beat his head with the stock of the gun, and cast
+his body into the marsh.
+
+Who would know how he came by his death? His sister was aware that
+he had gone to the moor to stalk deer. What evidence would be
+producible against this couple should they complete the work and
+dispose of him?
+
+Strangely unaccountable as it may seem, yet it was so, that at the
+moment, rage at the thought that, should they kill him, Mehetabel
+and Iver would escape punishment, was the prevailing thought and
+predominant passion in Jonas's mind, and not by any means fear for
+himself. This made him disregard his pain, indifferent to his fate.
+
+"I have still my right hand and my teeth," he said. "I will beat
+and tear that they may bear marks that shall awake suspicion."
+
+But his head swam, he turned sick and faint, and became insensible.
+
+When Jonas recovered consciousness he lay on his back, and saw faces
+bowed over him--that of his wife and that of Iver, the two he hated
+most cordially in the world, the two at least he hated to see
+together.
+
+He struggled to rise and bite, like a wild beast, but was held down
+by Iver.
+
+"Curse you! will you kill me so?" he yelled, snapping with his
+great jaws, trying to reach and rend the hands that restrained him.
+
+"Lie still, Bideabout," said the young painter, "are you crazed?
+We will do you no harm. Mehetabel is binding up your arm. As far
+as I can make out the shot has run up it and is lodged in the
+shoulder."
+
+"I care not. Let me go. You will murder me." Mehetabel had torn a
+strip from her skirt and was making a bandage of it.
+
+"Jonas," she said, "pray lie quiet, or sit up and be reasonable.
+I must do what I can to stay the blood."
+
+As he began to realize that he was being attended to, and that
+Iver and Mehetabel had no intention to hurt him, the Broom-Squire
+became more composed and patient.
+
+His brows were knit and his teeth set. He avoided looking into the
+faces of those who attended to him.
+
+Presently the young painter helped him to rise, and offered his
+arm. This Jonas refused.
+
+"I can walk by myself," said he, churlishly; then turning to
+Mehetabel, he said, with a sneer, "The devil never does aught but
+by halves."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"The bullet has entered my arm and not my heart, as you desired."
+
+"Go," she said to the young artist; "I pray you go and leave me
+with him. I will take him home."
+
+Iver demurred.
+
+"I entreat you to go," she urged. "Go to your mother. Tell her that
+my husband has met with an accident, and that I am called away to
+attend him. That is to serve as an excuse. I must, I verily must
+go with him. Do not say more. Do not say where this happened."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+She did not answer. He considered for a moment and then dimly saw
+that she was right.
+
+"Iver," she said in a low tone, so that Jonas might not hear, "you
+should not have followed me; then this would never have happened."
+
+"If I had not followed you he would have been your murderer,
+Matabel."
+
+Then, reluctantly, he went. But ever and anon turned to listen or
+to look.
+
+When he was out of sight, then Mehetabel said to her husband, "Lean
+on me, and let me help you along."
+
+"I can go by myself," he said bitterly. "I would not have his arm.
+I will have none of yours. Give me my gun."
+
+"No, Jonas, I will carry that for you."
+
+Then he put forth his uninjured right hand, and took the kidney-iron
+stone from the anvil block, on which Mehetabel had left it.
+
+"What do you want with that?" she asked.
+
+"I may have to knock also," he answered. "Is it you alone who are
+allowed to have wishes?"
+
+She said no more, but stepped along, not swiftly, cautiously, and
+turning at every step, to see that he was following, and that he
+had put his foot on substance that would support his weight.
+
+"Why do you look at me?" he asked captiously.
+
+"Jonas, you are in pain, and giddy with pain. You may lose your
+footing, and go into the water."
+
+"So--that now is your desire?"
+
+"I pray you," she answered, in distress, "Jonas, do not entertain
+such evil thoughts."
+
+They attained a ridge of sand. She fell back and paced at his side.
+
+Bideabout observed her out of the corners of his eyes. By the
+moonlight he could see how finely, nobly cut was her profile; he
+could see the glancing of the moon in the tears that suffused her
+cheeks.
+
+"You know who shot me?" he inquired, in a low tone.
+
+"I know nothing, Jonas, but that there was a struggle, and that
+during this struggle, by accident--"
+
+"You did it."
+
+"No, Jonas. I cannot think it."
+
+"It was so. You touched the trigger. You knew that the piece was
+on full cock."
+
+"It was altogether an accident. I knew nothing. I was conscious of
+nothing, save that I was trying to prevent you from committing a
+great crime."
+
+"A great crime!" jeered he. "You thought only how you might save
+the life of your love."
+
+Mehetabel stood still and turned to him.
+
+"Jonas, do not say that. You cruelly, you wrongfully misjudge me
+I will tell you all, if you will I never would have hidden anything
+from you if I had not known how you would take and use what I said.
+Iver and I were child friends, almost brother and sister. I always
+cared for him, and I think he liked me. He went away and I saw
+nothing of him. Then, at our wedding, he returned home; and since
+then I have seen him a good many times--you, yourself asked him to
+the Punch-Bowl, and bade me stand for him to paint. I cannot deny
+that I care for him, and that he likes me."
+
+"As brother and sister?"
+
+"No--not as brother and sister. We are children no longer. But,
+Jonas, I have no wish, no thought other than that he should leave
+Thursley, and that I should never, never, never see his face again.
+Of thought, of word, of act against my duty to you I am guiltless.
+Of thoughts, as far as I have been able to hold my thoughts in
+chains, of words, of acts I have nothing to reproach myself with,
+there have been none but what might be known to you, in a light
+clearer than that poured down by this moon. You will believe me,
+Jonas."
+
+He looked searchingly into her beautiful, pale face--now white as
+snow in the moonlight. After a long pause, he answered, "I do not
+believe you."
+
+"I can say no more," she spoke and sighed, and went forward.
+
+He now lagged behind.
+
+They stepped off the sand ridge, and were again in treacherous
+soil, neither land nor water, but land and water tossed together
+in strips and tags and tatters.
+
+"Go on," he said. "I will step after you."
+
+Presently she looked behind her, and saw him swinging his right
+hand, in which was the lump of ironstone.
+
+"Why do you turn your head?" he asked.
+
+"I look for you."
+
+"Are you afraid of me?"
+
+"I am sorry for you, Jonas."
+
+"Sorry--because of my arm?"
+
+"Because you are unable to believe a true woman's word."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"No--I do not suppose you can."
+
+Then he screamed, "No, I do not believe." He leaped forward, and
+struck her on the head with the nodule of iron, and felled her at
+his feet.
+
+"There," said he; "with this stone you sought my death, and with
+it I cause yours."
+
+Then he knelt where she lay motionless, extended, in the marsh,
+half out of the water, half submerged.
+
+He gripped her by the throat, and by sheer force, with his one
+available arm, thrust her head under water.
+
+The moonlight played in the ripples as they closed over her face;
+it surely was not water, but liquid silver, fluid diamond.
+
+He endeavored to hold her head under the surface. She did not
+struggle. She did not even move. But suddenly a pang shot through
+him, as though he had been pierced by another bullet. The bandage
+about his wound gave way, and the hot blood broke forth again.
+
+Jonas reeled back in terror, lest his consciousness should desert
+him, and he sank for an instant insensible, face foremost, into
+the water.
+
+As it was, where he knelt, among the water-plants, they were
+yielding under his weight.
+
+He scrambled away, and clung to a distorted pine on the summit of
+a sand-knoll.
+
+Giddy and faint, he laid his head against the bush, and inhaled
+the invigorating odor of the turpentine. Gradually he recovered,
+and was able to stand unsupported.
+
+Then he looked in the direction where Mehetabel lay. She had not
+stirred. The bare white arms were exposed and gleaming in the
+moonlight. The face he did not see. He shrank from looking towards
+it.
+
+Then he slunk away, homewards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+AN APPARITION.
+
+
+When Bideabout arrived in the Punch-Bowl, as he passed the house
+of the Rocliffes, he saw his sister, with a pail, coming from the
+cow-house. One of the cattle was ill, and she had been carrying
+it a bran-mash.
+
+He went to her, and said, "Sally!"
+
+"Here I be, Jonas, what now?"
+
+"I want you badly at my place. There's been an accident."
+
+"What? To whom? Not to old Clutch?"
+
+"Old Clutch be bothered. It is I be hurted terr'ble bad. In my arm.
+If it weren't dark here, under the trees, you'd see the blood."
+
+"I'll come direct. That's just about it. When she's wanted, your
+wife is elsewhere. When she ain't, she's all over the shop. I'll
+clap down the pail inside. You go on and I'll follow."
+
+Jonas unlocked his house, and entered. He groped about for the
+tinder-box, but when he had found it was unable to strike a light
+with one hand only. He seated himself in the dark, and fell into
+a cold sweat.
+
+Not only was he in great pain, but his mind was ill at ease, full
+of vague terrors. There was something in the corner that he could
+see, slightly stirring. A little moonlight entered, and a fold
+flickered in the ray, then disappeared again. Again something came
+within the light. Was it a foot? Was it the bottom of a skirt? He
+shrank back against the wall, as far as possible from this
+mysterious, restless form.
+
+He looked round to see that the scullery door was open, through
+which to escape, should this thing move towards him.
+
+The sow was grunting and squealing in her stye, Jonas hailed the
+sound; there was nothing alarming in that. Had all been still in
+and about the house, there might have come from that undefined
+shadow in the comer a voice, a groan, a sigh--he knew not what.
+With an exclamation of relief he saw the flash of Sally Rocliffe's
+lantern pass the window.
+
+Next moment she stood in the doorway.
+
+"Where are you, Jonas?"
+
+"I am here. Hold up the lantern, Sarah. What's that in the corner
+there, movin'?"
+
+"Where, Jonas?"
+
+"There--you are almost touchin it. Turn the light."
+
+"That," said his sister; "why don'ty know your own old oilcloth
+overcoat as was father's, don'ty know that when you see it?"
+
+"I didn't see it, but indistinct like," answered Jonas.
+
+His courage, his strength, his insolence were gone out of him.
+
+"Now, what's up?" asked Sarah. "How have you been hurted?"
+
+Jonas told a rambling story. He had been in the Marsh. He had
+seen the deer, but in his haste to get within range he had run,
+caught his foot in a bramble, had stumbled, and the gun had been
+discharged, and the bullet had entered his arm.
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe at once came to him to examine the wound.
+
+"Why, Jonas, you never did this up yourself. There's some one been
+at your arm already. Here's this band be off Matabel's petticoat.
+How came you by that?"
+
+He was confounded, and remained silent.
+
+"And where is the gun, Jonas?"
+
+"The gun!"
+
+He had forgotten all about it in his panic. Mehetabel had been
+carrying it when he beat her down. He had thought of it no more.
+He had thought of nothing after the deed, but how to escape from
+the spot as speedily as possible.
+
+"I suppose I've lost it," he said. "Somewhere in the Moor. You see
+when I was wounded, I hadn't the head to think of anything else."
+
+Mrs. Rocliffe was examining his arm. The sleeve of his coat had
+been cut.
+
+"I don't understand your tale a scrap, Jonas," she said. "Who used
+his knife to slit up your sleeve? And how comes your arm to be
+bandaged with this bit of Matabel's dress?"
+
+Bideabout was uneasy. The tale he had told was untenable. There
+was a necessity for it to be supplemented. But his condition of
+alarm and pain made him unable readily to frame a story that would
+account for all, and satisfy his sister.
+
+"Jonas," said Sarah, "I'm sure you have seen Matabel, and she did
+this for you. Where is she?"
+
+Bideabout trembled. He thrust his sister from him, saying,
+irritably, "Why do you worrit me with questions? My arm wants
+attendin' to."
+
+"I can't do much to that," answered the woman. "A doctor should
+look to that. I'll go and call Samuel, and bid him ride away after
+one."
+
+"I won't be left alone!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, in a sudden
+access of terror.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe deliberately took the lantern and held it to his face.
+
+"Jonas," she said, "I'll do nuthin' more for you till I know the
+whole truth. You've seen your wife and there's somethin' passed
+between you. I see by your manner that all is not right. Where is
+Matabel? You haven't been after the deer on the Moor. You have been
+to the Ship."
+
+"That is a lie," answered Bideabout. "I have been on the Moor. 'Tis
+there I got shot, and, if you will have it all out, it was Matabel
+who shot me."
+
+"Matabel shot you?"
+
+"Yes, it was. She shot me to prevent me from killin' him."
+
+"Whom?"
+
+"You know--that painter fellow."
+
+"So that is the truth? Then where is she?"
+
+The Broom-Squire hesitated and moved his feet uneasily.
+
+"Jonas," said his sister, "I will know all."
+
+"Then know it," he answered angrily. "Somehow, as she was helpin'
+me along, her foot slipped and she fell into the water. I had but
+one arm, and I were stiff wi' pains. What could I do? I did what
+I could, but that weren't much. I couldn't draw her out o' the
+mire. That would take a man wi' two good arms, and she was able
+to scramble out if she liked. But she's that perverse, there's no
+knowing, she might drown herself just to spite me."
+
+"Why did you not speak of that at once?"
+
+"Arn't I hurted terr'ble bad? Arn't I got a broken arm or somethin'
+like it? When a chap is in racks o' pain he han't got all his wits
+about him. I know I wanted help, for myself, first, and next, for
+her; and now I've told you that she's in the Moor somewhere. She
+may ha' crawled out, or she may be lyin' there. I run on, so fast
+as possible, in my condition, to call for help."
+
+"Where is she? Where did you leave her?"
+
+"Right along between here and Thor's Stone. There's an old twisted
+Scotch pine with magpies' nests in it--I reckon more nests than
+there be green stuff on the tree. It's just about there."
+
+"Jonas," said the sister, who had turned deadly white, and who
+lowered the lantern, unable longer to hold it to her brother's face
+with steady hand, "Jonas, you never ort to ha' married into a
+gallus family; you've ketched the complaint. It's bad enough to
+have men hanged on top o' Hind Head. We don't want another gibbet
+down at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl, and that for one of ourselves."
+
+Then voices were audible outside, and a light flickered through
+the window.
+
+In abject terror the Broom-Squire screamed "Sally, save me, hide
+me; it's the constables!"
+
+He cowered into a corner, then darted into the back kitchen, and
+groped for some place of concealment.
+
+He heard thence the voices more distinctly. There was a tramp of
+feet in his kitchen; a flare of fuller light than that afforded by
+Mrs. Rocliffe's lantern ran in through the door he had left ajar.
+
+The sweat poured over his face and blinded his eyes.
+
+Bideabout's anxiety was by no means diminished when he recognized
+one of the voices in his front kitchen as that of Iver.
+
+Had Iver watched him instead of returning to the Ship? Had he
+followed in his track, spying what he did? Had he seen what had
+taken place by the twisted pine with the magpies' nests in it?
+And if so, had he hasted to Thursley to call out the constable, and
+to arrest him as the murderer of his wife.
+
+Trembling, gnawing the nails of his right hand, cowering behind
+the copper, he waited, not knowing whither to fly.
+
+Then the door was thrust open, and Sally Rocliffe came in and called
+to him: "Jonas! here is Master Iver Verstage--very good he is to
+you--he has brought a doctor to attend to your arm."
+
+The wretched man grasped his sister by the wrist, drew her to him,
+and whispered--"That is not true; it is the constable."
+
+"No, Jonas. Do not be a fool. Do not make folk suspect evil," she
+answered in an undertone. "There is a surgeon staying at the Ship,
+and this is the gentleman who has come to assist you."
+
+Mistrustfully, reluctantly, Jonas crept from his hiding place, and
+came behind his sister to the doorway, where he touched his
+forelock, looked about him suspiciously, and said--"Your servant,
+gentlemen. Sorry to trouble you; but I've met with an accident. The
+gun went off and sent a bullet into my arm. Be you a doctor, sir?"
+he asked, eyeing a stranger, who accompanied Iver.
+
+"I am a surgeon; happily, now lodging at the Ship, and Mr. Verstage
+informed me of what had occurred, so I have come to offer my
+assistance."
+
+Jonas was somewhat reassured, but his cunning eyes fixed on Iver
+observed that the young painter was looking around, in quest,
+doubtless, of Mehetabel.
+
+"I must have hot water. Who will attend to me?" asked the surgeon.
+
+"I will do what is necessary," said Mrs. Rocliffe.
+
+"Will you go to bed?" asked the surgeon, "I can best look to you
+then."
+
+Jonas shook his head. He would have the wound examined there, as
+he sat in his arm-chair.
+
+Then came the inquiry from Iver--"Where is your wife, Jonas? I
+thought she had returned with you."
+
+"My wife? She has lagged behind."
+
+"Not possible. She was to assist you home."
+
+"I needed no assistance."
+
+"She ought to be here to receive instructions from the doctor."
+
+"These can be given to my sister."
+
+"But, Bideabout, where is she?"
+
+Jonas was silent, confused, alarmed.
+
+Iver became uneasy.
+
+"Bideabout, where is Matabel. She must be summoned."
+
+"It's nort to you where she be," answered the Broom-Squire savagely.
+
+Then Mrs. Rocliffe stepped forward.
+
+"I will tell you," she said. "My brother is that mad wi' pain, he
+don't know what to think, and say, and do. As they was coming
+along together, loving-like, as man and wife, she chanced to slip
+and fall into the water, and Jonas, having his arm bad, couldn't
+help her out, as he was a-minded, and he runned accordin' here, to
+tell me, and I was just about sendin' my Samuel to find and help
+her."
+
+"Matabel in the water--drowned!"
+
+"Jonas did not say that. She falled in."
+
+"Matabel--fell in!"
+
+Iver looked from Mrs. Rocliffe towards Jonas. There was something
+in the Broom-Squire's look that did not satisfy him. It was not
+pain alone that so disturbed his face, and gave it such ghastly
+whiteness.
+
+"Bideabout," said he, gravely, "I must and will have a proper
+explanation. I cannot take your sister's story. Speak to me
+yourself. After what I had seen between you and Matabel, I must
+necessarily feel uneasy. I must have a plain explanation from your
+own lips."
+
+Jonas was silent; he looked furtively from side to side.
+
+"I will be answered," said Iver, with vehemence.
+
+"Who is to force me to speak?" asked the Broom-Squire, surlily.
+
+"If I cannot, I shall fetch the constable. I say--where did you
+leave Mehetabel?"
+
+"My sister told you--under the tree."
+
+"What--not in the water?"
+
+"She may have fallen in. I had but one arm, and that hurting
+terrible."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Iver. "You came home whining over your
+arm--leaving her in the marsh!"
+
+"You don't suppose I threw her in?" sneered Jonas. "Me--bad of an
+arm."
+
+"I don't know what to think," retorted Iver. "But I will know where
+Mehetabel is."
+
+In the doorway, with her back to the moonlight, stood a female
+figure.
+
+The first to see it was Jonas, and he uttered a gasp--he thought he
+saw a spirit.
+
+The figure entered, without a word, and all saw that it was
+Mehetabel.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+A SECRET.
+
+
+It was indeed Mehetabel.
+
+She entered quietly, without a word, carrying Bideabout's gun, which
+she placed in the corner, by the fireplace.
+
+Jonas and his sister looked at her, at first terror-struck, as
+though they beheld a ghost, then with unrest, for they knew not
+what she would say.
+
+She said nothing.
+
+She was deadly pale, and Iver, looking at her, was reminded of the
+Mehetabel he had seen in his dream.
+
+At once she recognized that her husband's arm was being dressed,
+and leisurely, composedly, she came forward to hold the basin of
+water, and do whatever was required of her by the surgeon.
+
+The first to speak was Iver, who said, "Matabel! We have just been
+told you had fallen into the water."
+
+"Yes. My dress is soaked."
+
+"And you managed to get out?"
+
+"Yes, when I fell I had hold of my husband's gun and that was
+caught in a bush; it held me up."
+
+"But how came you to fall?"
+
+"I believe I was unconscious perhaps a faint."
+
+Nothing further could be elicited from her, then or later. Had she
+any suspicion that she had been struck down? This was a question
+that, later, Jonas asked himself. But he never knew till--, but we
+must not anticipate.
+
+A day or two after that eventful night he made some allusion to a
+blow on her head, when she appeared with a bandage round it.
+
+"Yes," she said: "I fell, and hurt myself."
+
+For some days Bideabout was in much pain and discomfort. His left
+shoulder had been injured by the ball that had lodged in it, and
+it was probable that he would always be stiff in that arm, and be
+unable to raise it above the breast. He was irritable and morose.
+
+He watched Mehetabel suspiciously and with mistrust of her
+intentions. What did she know? What did she surmise? If she
+thought that he had attempted to put an end to her life, would she
+retaliate? In his suspicion he preferred to have his sister attend
+to him, and Sarah consented to do for him, in his sickness, what
+he required, not out of fraternal affection, but as a means of
+slighting the young wife, and of observing the relations that
+subsisted between her and Jonas.
+
+Sarah Rocliffe was much puzzled by what had taken place. Her
+brother's manner had roused her alarm. She knew that he had gone
+forth with his jealousy lashed to fury. She had herself kindled the
+fire. Then he had come upon Mehetabel and Iver on the Moor, she
+could not doubt. How otherwise explain the knowledge of the
+accident which led Iver to bring the surgeon to the assistance of
+her brother?
+
+But the manner in which the accident had occurred and the occasion
+of it, all of this was dark to her. Then the arrival of Jonas alone,
+and his reticence relative to his wife, till she had asked about
+her; also his extraordinary statement, his manifest terror; and the
+silence of Mehetabel on her reappearance, all this proved a mystery
+involving the events of the night, that Sarah Rocliffe was desirous
+to unravel.
+
+She found that her every effort met with a rebuff from Jonas,
+and elicited nothing from Mehetabel, who left her in the same
+uncertainty as was Bideabout, whether she knew anything, or
+suspected anything beyond the fact that she had fallen insensible
+into the water. She had fallen grasping the gun, which had become
+entangled in some bushes, and this together with the water weeds
+had sustained her. When she recovered consciousness she had drawn
+herself out of the marsh by means of the gun, and had seated
+herself under an old pine tree, till her senses were sufficiently
+clear. Thereupon she had made the best of her way homeward.
+
+What did she think of Jonas for having left her in the water? asked
+Mrs. Rocliffe.
+
+Mehetabel answered, simply, that she had not thought about it. Wet,
+cold, and faint, she had possessed no idea save how to reach home.
+
+There was much talk in the Punch-Bowl as well as throughout the
+neighborhood relative to what had taken place, and many forms were
+assumed by the rumor as it circulated. Most men understood well
+enough that Jonas had gone after the Peperharow deer, and was
+attempting to forestall others--therefore, serve him right, was
+their judgment, however he came by his accident.
+
+Iver left Thursley on the day following and returned to Guildford.
+The surgeon staying at the Ship Inn continued his visits to the
+Punch-Bowl, as long as he was there, and then handed his patient
+over to the local practitioner.
+
+Mrs. Verstage was little better informed than the rest of the
+inhabitants of Thursley, for her son had not told her anything
+about the accident to Jonas, more than was absolutely necessary;
+and to all her inquiries returned a laughing answer that as he had
+not shot the Broom-Squire he could not inform her how the thing
+was done.
+
+She was too much engaged so long as the visitors were in the
+house, to be able to leave it; and Mehetabel did not come near her.
+
+As soon, however, as she was more free, she started in her little
+trap for the Punch-Bowl, and arrived at a time when Jonas was not
+at home.
+
+This exactly suited her. She had Mehetabel to herself, and could
+ask her any questions she liked without restraint.
+
+"My dear Matabel," she said, "I've had a trying time of it, with
+the house full, and only Polly to look to for everything. Will you
+believe me--on Sunday I said I would give the gentlemen a little
+plum-pudding. I mixed it myself, and told Polly to boil it, whilst
+I went to church. Of course, I supposed she would do it properly,
+but with those kind of people one must take nothing for granted."
+
+"Did she spoil the pudding, mother?"
+
+"Oh, no--the pudding was all right."
+
+"Then what harm was done?"
+
+"She spoiled my best nightcap."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Boiled the puddin' in it, because she couldn't find a bag. I'll
+never get it proper white again, nor the frills starched and made
+up. And there is the canary bird, too."
+
+"What of that, mother?"
+
+"My dear, I told Polly to clean out the cage."
+
+"And did she not do it?"
+
+"Oh, yes--only too well. She dipped it in a pan of hot water and
+soda--and the bird in it."
+
+"What--the canary--is it dead?"
+
+"Of course it is, and bleached white too. That girl makes the water
+so thick wi' soda you could stand a spoon up in it. She used five
+pounds in two days."
+
+"Oh, the poor canary!" Mehetabel was greatly troubled for her pet.
+
+"I don't quite understand the ways o' Providence," said Mrs.
+Verstage. "I don't suppose I shall till the veil be lifted. I
+understand right enough why oysters ain't given eyes--lest they
+should see those who are opening their mouths to eat 'em. And if
+geese were given wings like swallows, they wouldn't bide with us
+over Michaelmas. But why Providence should ha' denied domestic
+servants the gift of intelligence wherewith we, their masters and
+mistresses, be so largely endowed--that beats me. Well," in a tone
+of resignation, "one will know that some day, doubtless."
+
+After a bit of conversation about the progress of Jonas to
+convalescence, and the chance of his being able to use his arm,
+Mrs. Verstage approached the topic uppermost in her mind.
+
+"I should like to hear all about it, from your own mouth, Matabel.
+There is such a number of wonderful tales going round, all
+contradictory, and so, of course, all can't be true. Some even
+tell that you fired the gun and wounded Jonas. But that is
+ridiculous, as I said to Maria Entiknap. And actually one story
+is that my Iver was in it somehow. Of course, I knew he heard
+there was an accident. You told him when you was fetched away.
+Who fetched you from the Ship? I left you in the kitchen."
+
+"Oh, mother," said Mehetabel, "all the events of that terrible
+night are confused in my head, and I don't know where to begin--nor
+what is true and what fancy, so I'd as lief say nothing about it."
+
+"If you can't trust me--" said Mrs. Verstage, somewhat offended.
+
+"I could trust you with anything," answered Mehetabel hastily.
+"Indeed, it is not that, but somehow I fell, and I suppose with
+fright, and a blow I got in falling, every event got so mixed with
+fancies and follies that I don't know where truth begins and fancy
+ends. For that reason I do not wish to speak."
+
+"Now look here," said Mrs. Verstage, "I've brought you a present
+such as I wouldn't give to any one. It's a cookery book, as was
+given me. See what I have wrote, or got Simon to write for me,
+on the fly-leaf.
+
+  "'Susanna Verstage, her book,
+   Give me grace therein to look.
+   Not only to look, but to understand,
+   For learning is better than houses and land.
+   When land is gone, and money is spent,
+   Then learning is most excellent.'
+
+"And the reason why I part with this Matabel, is because of that
+little conversation we had together the other day at the Ship.
+I don't believe as how you and Bideabout get along together first
+rate. Now I know men, their ins and outs, pretty completely, and
+I know that the royal road to their affections is through their
+stomachs. You use this book of receipts, they're not extravagant
+ones, but they are all good, and in six months Jonas will just
+about worship you."
+
+"Mother," said Mehetabel, after thanking her, "you are very kind."
+
+"Not at all. I've had experience in husbands, and you're, so to
+speak, raw to it. They are humorous persons, are men, you have to
+give in a little here and take a good slice there. If you give up
+to them there's an end to all peace and quietness. If you don't
+give in enough the result is the same. What all men want is to make
+their wives their slaves. You know, I suppose, how Gilly Cheel,
+the younger, got his name of Jamaica?"
+
+"I do not think I do."
+
+"Why he and his Bessy are always quarrelling! Neither will yield
+to the other. At last, by some means, Gilly got wind that in West
+Indies, there are slaves, and he thought, if he could only get
+out there with Bess that he'd be able to enslave her and make her
+do what he wished. So he pretended that he'd got a little money
+left him in Jamaica, and must needs go out there and settle. She
+said she wouldn't go, and he had no call to go there, except just
+for the sake of getting her under control. Then he talked big of
+the beautiful climate, and all the cooking done by the sun, and no
+washing needed, because clothing are unnecessary, and not only
+no washing, but no mending neither, no stockings to knit, no buttons
+to put on--a Paradise for wimen, said Gilly--but still he couldn't
+get Bessy to hear of going out to the West Indies. At last, how it
+was, I can't say, but she got wind of the institootion of slavery
+there, and then she guessed at once what was working in Gilly's
+mind. Since that day he's always gone by the name of Jamaica, and
+fellows that want to tease him shout, 'Taken your passage yet for
+you and Bessy to Jamaica?'"
+
+"My dear mother," said Mehetabel, "I should not mind being a slave
+in my husband's house, and to him, if there were love to beautify
+and sanctify it. But it would not be slavery then, and now I am
+afraid that you, mother, have perhaps took it unkind that I did not
+tell you more about that shot. If so, let me make all good again
+between us by telling you a real secret. There's no one else knows
+it."
+
+"What is that?" asked the hostess eagerly.
+
+Mehetabel was nervous and colored.
+
+"May I tell you in your ear?"
+
+Mrs. Verstage extended an ear to her, she would have applied both
+to Mehetabel's mouth had that been feasible.
+
+The young wife, with diffidence, whispered something.
+
+A beam of satisfaction lit up the old woman's face.
+
+"That's famous. That's just as it ort. With that and with the
+cookery book, Jonas'll just adore you. There's nuthin' like that
+for makin' a home homely."
+
+"And you'll come to me?"
+
+"My dear, if alive and well, without fail."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+POISON.
+
+
+The Broom-Squire did not recover from his wound with the rapidity
+that might have been expected. His blood was fevered, his head in
+a whirl. He could not forget what his sister had said to him
+relative to Mehetabel and Iver. Jealousy gnawed in his heart like
+a worm. That the painter should admire her for her beauty--that
+was nothing--who did not admire her? Had she not been an object
+of wonder and praise ever since she had bloomed into womanhood at
+the Ship? That he was envied his beautiful wife did not surprise
+him. He valued her because begrudged him by others.
+
+He looked at himself in a broken glass he had, and sneered and
+laughed when he saw his own haggard face, and contrasted it with
+that of the artist. It was true that he had seen nothing to render
+him suspicious, when Iver came to his house, but he had not always
+been present. He had actually forced his wife against her wishes
+to go to the tavern where Iver was, had thrust her, so to speak,
+into his arms.
+
+He remembered her call in the Marsh to the spirits to rid her of
+some one, and he could not believe her explanation. He remembered
+how that to save Iver, she had thrust the muzzle of the gun against
+her own side, and had done battle with him for mastery over the
+weapon. Incapable of conceiving of honor, right feeling, in any
+breast, he attributed the worst motives to Mehetabel--he held her
+to be sly, treacherous, and false.
+
+Jonas had never suffered from any illness, and he made a bad
+patient now. He was irritable, and he spared neither his wife,
+who attended to him with self-denying patience, nor his sister,
+who came in occasionally. Mehetabel hoped that his pain and
+dependence on her might soften his rancorous spirit, and break
+down his antagonism towards her and every one. The longer his
+recovery was delayed, the more unrestrained became his temper.
+He spared no one. It seemed as though his wife's patience and
+attention provoked into virulent activity all that was most venomous
+and vicious in his nature. Possibly he was aware that he was
+unworthy of her, but could not or would not admit this to himself.
+His hatred of Iver grew to frenzy. He felt that he was morally the
+inferior of both the artist and of his own wife. When he was at
+their mercy they had spared his life, and that life of his lay
+between them and happiness. Had he not sought both theirs? Would
+he have scrupled to kill either had one of them been in the same
+helpless position at his feet?
+
+He had come forth in sorry plight from that struggle, and now he
+was weakened by his accident, and unable to watch Mehetabel as
+fully as he would have wished.
+
+The caution spoken by the surgeon that he should not retard his
+recovery by impatience and restlessness was unheeded.
+
+He was wakeful at night, tossing on his bed from side to side. He
+complained of this to the surgeon, who, on his next visit, brought
+him a bottle of laudanum.
+
+"Now look here," said he; "I will not put this in your hands. You
+are too hasty and unreliable to be entrusted with it. Your wife
+shall have it. It is useful, if taken in small quantities, just a
+drop or two, but if too much be taken by accident, then you will
+fall into a sleep from which there is no awaking. I can quite
+fancy that you in your irritable mood, because you could not sleep,
+would give yourself an overdose, and then--there would be the
+deuce to pay."
+
+"And suppose that my wife were to overdose me?" asked the sick man
+suspiciously.
+
+"That is not a suspicion I can entertain," said the surgeon, with
+a bow of his head in the direction of Mehetabel, "I have found her
+thoughtful, exact, and trustworthy. And so you have found her, I
+will swear, Mr. Kink, in all your domestic life?"
+
+The Broom-Squire muttered something unintelligible, and turned a
+way.
+
+When the laudanum arrived, he took the bottle and examined it. A
+death's head and crossbones were on the label. He took out the
+cork, and smelt the contents of the phial.
+
+Though worn out with want of sleep he refused to touch any of the
+sedative. He was afraid to trust Mehetabel with the bottle, and
+afraid to mix his own portion lest in his nervous excitement he
+might overdo the dose.
+
+Neither would he suffer the laudanum to be administered to him by
+his sister. As he said to her with a sneer, "A drop too much would
+give you a chance of my farm, which you won't have so long as I
+live."
+
+"How can you talk like that?" said Sally. "Haven't you got a wife?
+Wouldn't the land go to her?"
+
+The land, the house--to Mehetabel, and with his removal, then the
+way would be opened for Iver as well.
+
+The thought was too much for Jonas. He left his bed, and carried
+the phial of opium to a little cupboard he had in the wall, that
+he kept constantly locked. This he now opened, and within it he
+placed the bottle. "Better endure my sleepless nights than be
+rocked to sleep by those who have no wish to bid me a good morrow."
+
+Seeing that Mehetabel observed him he said, "The key I never let
+from my hands."
+
+He would not empty the phial out of the window, because--he thought
+on the next visit of the surgeon he might get him to administer
+the dose himself, and he would have to pay for the laudanum,
+consequently to waste it would be to throw away two shillings.
+
+It chanced one day, when the Broom-Squire was somewhat better, and
+had begun to go about, that old Clutch was taken ill. The venerable
+horse was off his feed, and breathed heavily. He stood with head
+down, looking sulky.
+
+Bideabout was uneasy. He was attached to the horse, even though
+he beat it without mercy. Perhaps this attachment was mainly
+selfish. He knew that if old Clutch died he would have to replace
+him, and the purchase of a horse would be a serious expense.
+Accordingly he did all in his power to recover his steed, short
+of sending for a veterinary surgeon. He hastened to his cupboard
+in the upper chamber, and unlocked it, to find a draught that he
+might administer. When he had got the bottle, in his haste, being
+one-handed, he forgot to re-lock and remove the key. Possibly he
+did not observe that his wife was seated in the window, engaged in
+needlework. Indeed, for some time she had been very busily engaged
+in the making of certain garments, not intended for herself nor
+for her husband. She worked at these in the upper chamber, where
+there was more light than below in the kitchen, where, owing to
+the shade of the trees, the room was somewhat dark, and where,
+moreover, she was open to interruption.
+
+When Bideabout left the room, Mehetabel looked up, and saw that he
+had not fastened the cupboard. The door swung open, and exposed
+the contents. She rose, laid the linen she was hemming on the
+chair, and went to the open press, not out of inquisitiveness,
+but in order to fasten the door.
+
+She stood before the place where he kept his articles of value,
+and mustered them, without much interest. There were bottles of
+drenches for cattle, and pots of ointment for rubbing on sprains,
+and some account books. That was all.
+
+But among the bottles was one that was small, of dark color, with
+an orange label on it marked with a boldly drawn skull and
+crossbones, and the letters printed on it, "Poison."
+
+This was the phial containing the medicine, the name of which she
+could not recall, that the doctor had given to her husband to take
+in the event of his sleeplessness continuing to trouble him. The
+word "poison" was frightening, and the death's head still more so.
+But she recalled what the surgeon had said, that the result of
+taking a small dose would be to encourage sleep, and of an overdose
+to send into a sleep from which there would be no awaking.
+
+Mehetabel could hardly repress a smile, though it was a sad one,
+as she thought of her husband's suspicions lest she should misuse
+the draught on him. But her bosom heaved, and her heart beat as
+she continued to look at it.
+
+She needed but to extend her hand and she had the means whereby
+all her sorrows and aches of heart would be brought to an end.
+It was not as if there were any prospect before her of better
+times. If sickness had failed to soften and sweeten the temper of
+the Broom-Squire, then nothing would do it. Before her lay a hideous
+future of self-abnegation, or daily, hourly misery, under his
+ill-nature; of continuous torture caused by his cruel tongue. And
+her heart was not whole. She still thought of Iver, recalled his
+words, his look, the clasp of his arm, his kiss on her lips.
+
+Would the time ever arrive when she could think of him without her
+pulse bounding, and a film forming over her eyes?
+
+Would it not be well to end this now? She had but to sip a few
+drops from this bottle and then lay her weary head, and still more
+weary heart, on the bed, and sleep away into the vast oblivion!
+
+She uncorked the bottle and smelt the laudanum. The odor was
+peculiar, it was unlike any other with which she was acquainted.
+She even touched the cork with her tongue. The taste was not
+unpleasant.
+
+Not a single drop had been taken from the phial. It was precisely
+in the condition in which it had arrived.
+
+If she did not yield to the temptation, what was it that stayed
+her? Not the knowledge that the country of the Gergesenes lay
+southeast of the Lake of Tiberias, otherwise called the Sea of
+Galilee; nor that the "lily of the field" was the Scarlet Martagon;
+nor that the latitude and longitude of Jerusalem were 31 deg. 47
+min. by 53 deg. 15 min., all which facts had been acquired by her
+in the Sunday-school; but that which arrested her hand and made
+her replace the cork and bottle was the sight of a little white
+garment lying on the chair from which she had risen.
+
+Just then she heard her husband's voice, and startled and confused
+by what had passed through her mind, she locked the cupboard, and
+without consideration slipped the key into her pocket. Then
+gathering up the little garment she went into another room.
+
+Bideabout did not miss the key, or remember that he had not locked
+up the cupboard, for three days. The bottle with drench he had
+retained in the stable.
+
+When the old horse recovered, or showed signs of convalescence,
+then Bideabout took the bottle, went to his room, and thrust his
+hand into his pocket for the key that he might open the closet and
+replace the drench.
+
+Then, for the first time, did he discover his loss. He made no
+great disturbance about it when he found out that the key was gone,
+as he took for granted that it had slipped from his pocket in the
+stable, or on his way through the yard to it. In fact, he discovered
+that there was a hole in his pocket, through which it might easily
+have worked its way.
+
+As he was unable to find any other key that would fit the lock, he
+set to work to file an odd key down and adapt it to his purpose.
+Living as did the squatters, away from a town, or even a large
+village, they had learned to be independent of tradesmen, and to
+do most things for themselves.
+
+Nor did Mehetabel discover that she was in possession of the key
+till after her husband had made another that would fit. She had
+entirely forgotten having pocketed the original key. Indeed she
+never was conscious that she had done it. It was only when she
+saw him unlock the closet to put away the bottle of horse medicine
+that she asked herself what had been done with the key. Then she
+hastily put her hand into her pocket and found it.
+
+As Jonas had another, she did not think it necessary for her to
+produce the original and call down thereby on herself a torrent
+of abuse.
+
+She retained it, and thus access to the poison was possible to
+those two individuals under one roof.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+A THREAT.
+
+
+One Sunday, the first snow had fallen in large flakes, and as
+there had been no wind it had covered all things pretty evenly--it
+had laden the trees, many of which had not as yet shed their leaves.
+Mehetabel had not gone to church because of this snow; and Jonas
+had been detained at home for the same reason, though not from
+church. If he had gone anywhere it would have been to look for
+holly trees full of berries which he might cut for the Christmas
+sale of evergreens.
+
+Towards noon the sun suddenly broke out and revealed a world of
+marvellous beauty. Every bush and tree twinkled, and as the rays
+melted the snow the boughs stooped and shed their burdens in shining
+avalanches.
+
+Blackbirds were hopping in the snow, and the track of hares was
+distinguishable everywhere.
+
+As the sun burst in at the little window it illumined the beautiful
+face of Mehetabel and showed the delicate rose in her cheeks, and
+shone in her rich dark hair, bringing out a chestnut glow not
+usually visible in it.
+
+Jonas, who had been sitting at his table working at his accounts,
+looked up and saw his wife at the window contemplating the beauty
+of the scene. She had her hands clasped, and her thoughts seemed
+to be far away, though her eyes rested on the twinkling white world
+before her.
+
+Jonas, though ill-natured and captious, was fond of his wife, in
+his low, animal fashion, and had a coarse appreciation of her
+beauty. He was so far recovered from his accident that he could
+sleep and eat heartily, and his blood coursed as usual through
+his veins.
+
+The very jealousy that worked in him, and his hatred of Iver, and
+envy of his advantages of youth, good looks, and ease of manner,
+made him eager to assert his proprietorship over his wife.
+
+He stepped up to her, without her noticing his approach, put his
+right arm round her waist and kissed her.
+
+She started, and thrust him back. She was far away in thought,
+and the action was unintentional. In very truth she had been
+dreaming of Iver, and the embrace chimed in with her dream, and
+the action of shrinking and repulsion was occasioned by the recoil
+of her moral nature from any undue familiarity attempted by Iver.
+
+But the Broom-Squire entirely misconceived her action. With
+quivering voice and flashing eyes, he said--
+
+"Oh, if this had been Iver, the daub-paint, you would not have
+pushed me away."
+
+Her eyebrows contracted, and a slight start did not pass unnoticed.
+
+"I know very well," he said, "of whom you were thinking. Deny it
+if you can? Your mind was with Iver Verstage."
+
+She was silent. The blood rushed foaming through her head; but she
+looked Bideabout steadily in the face.
+
+"It is guilt which keeps you silent," he said, bitterly.
+
+"If you are so sure that I thought of him, why did you ask?" she
+replied, and now the color faded out of her face.
+
+Jonas laughed mockingly.
+
+"It serves me right," he said in a tone of resentment against
+himself. "I always knew what women were; that they were treacherous
+and untrue; and the worst of all are those who think themselves
+handsome; and the most false and vicious of all are such as have
+been reared in public-houses, the toast of drunken sots."
+
+"Why, then, did you take me?"
+
+"Because I was a fool. Every man commits a folly once in his life.
+Even Solomon, the wisest of men, committed that folly; aye, and
+many a time, too, for of wives he had plenty. But then he was a
+king, and folly such as that mattered not to him. He could cut
+off the head of, or shoot down any man who even looked at or spoke
+a word to any of his wives. And if one of these were untrue to him,
+he would put her in a sack and sink her in the Dead Sea, and--served
+her right. To think that I--that I--the shrewd Broom-Squire, should
+have been so bewitched and bedeviled as to be led into the bog of
+marriage! Now I suffer for it." He turned savagely on his wife, and
+said: "Have you forgotten that you vowed fidelity to me?"
+
+"And you did you not swear to show me love?"
+
+He broke into a harsh laugh.
+
+"Love! That is purely! And just now, when I attempted to snatch a
+kiss, you struck me and thrust me off, because I was Jonas Kink,
+and not the lover you looked for?"
+
+"Jonas!" said Mehetabel, and a flame of indignation started into
+her cheek, and burnt there on each cheek-bone. "Jonas, you are
+unjust. I swore to love you, and Heaven can answer for me that I
+have striven hard to force the love to come where it does not exist
+naturally. Can you sink a well in the sand-hill, and compel the
+water to bubble up? Can you drain away the moor and bid it blossom
+like a garden? I cannot love you--when you do everything to make me
+shrink from you. You esteem nothing, no one, that is good. You
+sneer at everything that is holy; you disbelieve in everything that
+is honest; you value not the true, and you have no respect for
+suffering. I do not deny that I have no love for you--that there is
+much in you that makes me draw away--as from something hideous.
+Why do not you try on your part to seek my love? Instead of that,
+you take an ingenious pleasure in stamping out every spark of
+affection, in driving away every atom of regard, that I am trying
+so hard to acquire for you. Is all the strivin' to be on my
+side?--all the thought and care to be with me? A very little pains
+on your part, some small self-control, and we should get to find
+common ground on which we could meet and be happy. As to Iver
+Verstage, both he and I know well enough that we can never belong
+to each other."
+
+"Oh, I stand between you?"
+
+"Yes you and my duty."
+
+"Much you value either."
+
+"I know my duty and will do it. Iver Verstage and I can never
+belong to each other. We know it, and we have parted forever. I
+have not desired to be untrue to you in heart; but I did not know
+what was possible and what impossible in this poor, unhappy heart
+of mine when I promised to love you. I did not know what love
+meant at the time. Mother told me it grew as a matter of course
+in married life, like chickweed in a garden."
+
+"Am I gone crazed, or have you?" exclaimed Bideabout, snorting
+with passion. "You have parted with Iver quite so but only till
+after my death, which you will compass between you. I know that
+well enough. It was because I knew that, that I would not suffer
+you to give me doses of laudanum. A couple of drops, where one
+would suffice, and this obstruction to your loves was removed."
+
+"No, never!" exclaimed Mehetabel, with flashing eye.
+
+"You women are like the glassy pools in the Moor. There is a smooth
+face, and fair flowers floating thereon, and underneath the toad
+and the effect, the water-rat and festering poison. I shall know
+how to drive out of you the devil that possesses you this spirit
+of rebellion and passion for Iver Verstage."
+
+"You may do that," said Mehetabel, recovering her self-mastery, "if
+you will be kind, forbearing, and gentle."
+
+"It is not with kindness and gentleness that I shall do it,"
+scoffed the Broom-Squire. "The woman that will not bend must be
+broken. It is not I who will have to yield in this house I, who
+have been master here these twenty years. I shall know how to bring
+you to your senses."
+
+He was in foaming fury. He shook his fist, and his short hair
+bristled.
+
+Mehetabel shrank from him as from a maniac.
+
+"You have no need to threaten," she said, with sadness in her tone.
+"I am prepared for anything. Life is not so precious to me that I
+care for it."
+
+"Then why did you crawl out of the marsh?"
+
+She looked at him with wide-open eyes.
+
+"Make an end of my wretchedness if you will. Take a knife, and
+drive it into my heart. Go to your closet, and bring me that poison
+you have there, and pour it between my lips. Thrust me, if you
+will, into the Marsh. It is all one to me. I cannot love you unless
+you change your manners of thought and act and speech altogether."
+
+"Bah!" sneered he, "I shall not kill you. But I shall make you
+understand to fear me, if you cannot love me." He gripped her
+wrist. "Whether alive or dead, there will be no escape from me. I
+will follow you, track you in all you do, and if I go underground
+shall fasten on you, in spirit, and drag you underground as well.
+When you married me you became mine forever."
+
+A little noise made both turn.
+
+At the door was Sally Rocliffe, her malevolent face on the watch,
+observing all that passed.
+
+"What do you want here?" asked the Broom-Squire.
+
+"Nuthin', Jonas, but to know what time it is. Our clock is all
+wrong when it does go, and now, with the cold and snow, I suppose,
+it has stopped altogether."
+
+Sally looked at the clock that stood in the comer, Jonas turned
+sharply on his heel, took his hat, and went forth into the backyard
+of his farm.
+
+"So," said Mrs. Rocliffe, "my brother is in fear of his life of
+you. I know very well how he got the shot in his elbow. It was not
+your fault that it did not lodge in his head. And now he dare not
+take his medicine from your hands lest you should put poison into
+it. That comes of marrying into a gallows family."
+
+Then slowly she walked away.
+
+Mehetabel sank into the window seat.
+
+However glorious the snow-clad, sunlit world might be without it
+was nothing to her. Within her was darkness and despair.
+
+She looked at her wrist, marked with the pressure of her husband's
+fingers. No tears quenched the fire in her eyes. She sat and gazed
+stonily before her, and thought on nothing. It was as though her
+heart was frozen and buried under snow; as though her eyes looked
+over the moor, also frozen and white, but without the sun flooding
+it. Above hung gray and threatening clouds.
+
+Thus she sat for many minutes, almost without breathing, almost
+without pulsation.
+
+Then she sprang to her feet with a sob in her throat, and hastened
+about the house to her work. There was, as it were, a dark sea
+tumbling, foaming, clashing within her, and horrible thoughts
+rose up out of this sea and looked at her in ghostly fashion and
+filled her with terror. Chief among these was the thought that
+the death of Jonas could and would free her from this hopeless
+wretchedness. Had the bullet indeed entered his head then now she
+would have been enduring none of this insult, none of these
+indignities, none of this daily torture springing out of his
+jealousy, his suspicion, and his resentfulness.
+
+And at the same time appeared the vision of Iver Verstage. She
+could measure Jonas by him. How infinitely inferior in every
+particular was Jonas to the young painter, the friend of her
+childhood.
+
+But Mehetabel knew that such thoughts could but breed mischief.
+They were poison germs that would infect her own life, and make
+her not only infinitely wretched but degrade her in her own eyes.
+She fought against them. She beat them down as though she were
+battling with serpents that rose up out of the dust to lash
+themselves around her and sting her. The look at them had an
+almost paralyzing effect. If she did not use great effort they
+would fascinate her, and draw her on till they filled her whole
+mind and lured her from thought to act.
+
+She had not been instructed in much that was of spiritual advantage
+when a child in the Sunday-school. The Rector, as has already been
+intimated, had been an excellent and kindly man, who desired to
+stand well with everybody, and who was always taking up one nostrum
+after another as a panacea for every spiritual ill. And at the time
+when Matabel was under instruction the nostrum was the physical
+geography of the Holy Land. The only thing the parson did not teach
+was a definite Christian belief, because he had entered into a
+compromise with a couple of Dissenting farmers not to do so, and to
+confine the instruction to such matters as could not be disputed.
+Moreover, he was, himself, mentally averse to everything that
+savored of dogma in religion. He would not give his parishioners
+the Bread of Life, but would supply them with any amount of stones
+geographically tabulated according to their strata.
+
+However, Matabel had acquired a clear sense of right and wrong, at
+a little dame's school she had attended, as also from Mrs. Verstage;
+and now this definite knowledge of right and wrong stood her in
+good stead. She saw that the harboring of such thoughts was wrong,
+and she therefore resolutely resisted them. "He said," she sighed,
+when the battle was over, "that he would follow me through life and
+death, and finally drag me underground. But, can he be as bad as
+his word?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+A HERALD OF STRIFE.
+
+
+The winter passed without any change in the situation. Iver did not
+come home for Christmas, although he heard that his mother was
+failing in health and strength. There was much amusement in
+Guildford, and he reasoned that it would be advantageous to his
+business to take part in all the entertainments, and accept every
+invitation made him to the house of a pupil. Thursley was not so
+remote but that he could go there at any time. He was establishing
+himself in the place, and must strike root on all sides.
+
+This was a disappointment to Mrs. Verstage. Reluctantly she admitted
+that her health was breaking down, and that, moreover, whilst Simon
+remained tough and unshaken. The long-expected and hoped for time
+when Iver should become a permanent inmate of the house, and she
+would spend her declining years in love and admiration, had vanished
+to the region of hopes impossible of fulfilment.
+
+Simon Verstage took the decline of his wife's powers very
+philosophically. He had been so accustomed to her prognostications
+of evil, and harangues on her difficulties, that he was case-hardened,
+and did not realize that there was actual imminence of a separation
+by death.
+
+"It's all her talk," he would say to a confidential friend; "she's
+eighteen years younger nor me, and so has eighteen to live after
+I'm gone. There ain't been much took out of her: she's not one as
+has had a large family. There was Iver, no more; and women are
+longer-lived than men. She talks, but it's all along of Polly that
+worrits her. Let Polly alone and she'll get into the ways of the
+house in time; but Sanna be always at her about this and about that,
+and it kinder bewilders the wench, and she don't know whether to
+think wi' her toes, and walk wi' her head."
+
+In the Punch-Bowl the relations that subsisted between the
+Broom-Squire and his wife were not more cordial than before. They
+lived in separate worlds. He was greatly occupied with his solicitor
+in Godalming, to whom he was constantly driving over. He saw little
+of Mehetabel, save at his meals, and then conversation was limited
+on his part to recrimination and sarcastic remarks that cut as a
+razor. She made no reply, and spoke only of matters necessary. To
+his abusive remarks she had no answer, a deepening color, a
+clouding eye showed that she felt what he said. And it irritated
+the man that she bore his insolence meekly. He would have preferred
+that she should have retorted. As it was, so quiet was the house
+that Sally Rocliffe sneered at her brother for living in it with
+Mehetabel, "just like two turtle doves,--never heard in the
+Punch-Bowl of such a tender couple. Since that little visit to
+the Moor you've been doin' nothin' but billin and cooin'." Then
+she burst into a verse of an old folks song, singing in harsh
+tones--
+
+  "A woman that hath a bad husband, I find
+   By scolding won't make him the better.
+   So let him be easy, contented in mind,
+   Nor suffer his foibles to fret her.
+   Let every good woman her husband adore,
+   Then happy her lot, though t be humble and poor.
+   We live like two turtles, no sorrows we know,
+   And, fair girl! mind this when you marry."
+
+"What happens, in my house is no concern of yours, Sally," Jonas
+would answer sharply. "If some folk would mind their own affairs
+they wouldn't be all to sixes and sevens. You look out that you
+don't get into trouble yet over that foolish affair of Thomas and
+the Countess. I don't fancy you've come to the end of that yet."
+
+So the winter passed, and spring as well, and then came summer,
+and just before the scythe cut the green swath, for the hay harvest,
+Mehetabel became a mother.
+
+The child that was born to her was small and delicate, it lacked the
+sturdiness of its father and of the mother. So frail, indeed, did
+the little life seem at first, that grave doubts were entertained
+whether the babe would live to be taken to church to be baptized.
+
+Mehetabel did not have the comfort of the presence of Mrs. Verstage.
+
+During the winter that good woman's malady advanced with rapid
+strides, and by summer she was confined to her room, and very
+generally to her bed.
+
+To Mehetabel it was not only a grief that she was deprived of the
+assistance of her "mother," but also that, owing to her own
+condition, she was unable to attend on the failing woman. Deprived
+of the help of Mrs. Verstage, Mehetabel was thrown on that of her
+sister-in-law, Sally Rocliffe. Occasions of this sort call forth
+all that is good and tender in woman, and Sally was not at bottom
+either a bad or heartless woman. She had been embittered by a
+struggle with poverty that had been incessant, and had been allowed
+free use of her tongue by a husband, all whose self-esteem had been
+taken out of him by his adventure with the "Countess Charlotte,"
+and the derision which had rained on him since. She was an envious
+and a spiteful woman, and bore a bitter grudge against Mehetabel
+for disappointing her ambition of getting her brother's farm
+for her own son Samuel. But on the occasion when called to the
+assistance of her sister-in-law, she laid aside her malevolence,
+and the true humanity in the depths of her nature woke up. She
+showed Mehetabel kindness, though in ungracious manner.
+
+Jonas exhibited no interest in the accession to his family, he
+would hardly look at the babe, and refused to kiss it.
+
+At Mehetabel's request he came up to see her, in her room; he stood
+aloof, and showed no token of kindliness and consideration. Sarah
+went downstairs.
+
+"Jonas," said the young mother, "I have wished to have a word with
+you. You have been very much engaged, I suppose, and could not well
+spare time to see me before."
+
+"Well, what have you to say? Come to the point."
+
+"That is easily done. Let all be well between us. Let the past be
+forgotten, with its differences and misunderstandings. And now
+that this little baby is given to us, let it be a bond of love
+and reconciliation, and a promise of happiness to us both."
+
+The Broom-Squire looked sideways at his wife, and said, sulkily,
+"You remind one of Sanna Verstage's story of Gilly Cheel. He'd
+been drinking and making a racket in the house, and was so
+troublesome that she had to turn him out into the street by the
+shoulders. What did he do, but set his back to the door, and kick
+with his heels till he'd stove in some of the panels. Then he went
+to the windows, and beat in the panes, and when he'd made a fine
+wreck of it all, he stuck in his head, and said, 'This is to tell
+you, Sanna Verstage, as how I forgive you in a Christian spirit.'"
+
+"Bideabout! What has that to do with me?"
+
+"Everything. Have you not wronged me, sought to compass my death,
+given your love away from me to another, crossed me in all my
+wishes?"
+
+"No, Jonas; I have done none of this. I never sought your death,
+only the removal of one who made happiness to me in my home
+impossible. It was for you, because of you, that I desired his
+removal. As for my love, I have tried to give it all to you, but
+you must not forget that already from infancy, from the first
+moment that I can remember anything, Iver was my companion, that
+I was taught to look up to him, and to love him. But, indeed, I
+needed no teachin' in that. It came naturally, just as the
+buttercups in the meadow in spring, and the blush on the heather
+in July. I had not seen him for many years, and I did not forget
+him for all that. But I never had a thought of him other than as
+an old playmate. He returned home, the very day we were married,
+Jonas, as you remember. And since then, he often came to the
+Punch-Bowl. You had nothin' against that. I began to feel like the
+meadow when the fresh spring sun shines on it, that all the dead
+or sleepin' roots woke up, and are strong again, or as the heather,
+that seemed dry and lifeless, the buds come once more. But I knew
+it must not be, and I fought against it; and I went to Thor's Stone
+for that reason, and for none other."
+
+"A likely tale," sneered Jonas.
+
+"Yes, Bideabout, it is a likely tale; it is the only tale at all
+likely concerning an honest heart such as mine. If there be truth
+and uprightness in you, you will believe me. That I have gone
+through a great fight I do not deny. That I have been driven almost
+to despair, is also true. That I have cried out for help--that you
+know, for you heard me, and I was heard."
+
+"Yes--in that a lump of lead was sent into my shoulder."
+
+"No, Jonas, in that this little innocent was given to my arms. You
+need doubt me no more: you need fear for me and yourself no longer.
+I have no mistrust in myself at all now that I have this." Lovingly,
+with full eyes, the mother held up the child, then clasped it to
+her bosom, and covered the little head and tiny hands with kisses.
+
+"What has that to do with all that has been between us?" asked
+Bideabout, sneeringly.
+
+"It has everything to do," answered Mehetabel. "It is a little
+physician to heal all our wounds with its gentle hand. It is a
+tiny sower to strew love and the seeds of happiness in our united
+lives. It is a little herald angel that appears to announce to us
+peace and goodwill."
+
+"I dun know," muttered Jonas. "It don't seem like to be any of
+that."
+
+"You have not looked in the little face, felt the little hands,
+as I have. Why, if I had any ache and pain, those wee fingers
+would with their touch drive all away. But indeed, Jonas, since
+it came I have had no ache, no pain at all. All looks to me like
+sunshine and sweet summer weather. Do you know what mother said to
+me, many months ago, when first I told her what I was expecting?"
+
+"Dun know that I care to hear."
+
+"She gave me a cookery book, and she said to me that when the
+little golden beam shone into this dark house it would fill it
+with light, and that, with the baby and me--cooking you nice
+things to eat, as wouldn't cost much, but still nice, then all
+would be right and happy, and after all--Paradise, Jonas."
+
+"It seems to me as Sanna Verstage knows nuthin about it."
+
+"Jonas," pleaded Mehetabel, "give the little one a kiss. Take it
+in your arms."
+
+He turned away.
+
+"Jonas," she said, in a tone of discouragement, after a pause, and
+after having held out the child to him in vain, and then taken it
+back to her bosom, "what are you stampin' for?"
+
+He was beating his foot on the flooring.
+
+"I want Sally to come up. I thought you had something to say, and
+it seems there is nuthin'."
+
+"Nothing, Jonas? Do not go. Do not leave me thus. This is the first
+time you have been here since this little herald of goodwill
+appeared in my sky. Do not go! Come to me. Put your hand in mine,
+say that all is love and peace between us, and there will be no
+more mistrust and hard words. I will do my duty by you to the very
+best of my power, but, oh, Jonas, this will be a light thing to
+accomplish if there be love. Without--it will be heavy indeed."
+
+He continued stamping. "Will Sally never come?"
+
+"Jonas! there is one thing more I desired to say, What is the name
+to be given to the little fellow? It is right you should give him
+one."
+
+"I!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, making for the stairs. "I! Call
+him any name you will, but not mine. Call him," he turned his mean
+face round, full of rancor, and with his lip drawn up on one side,
+"as you like--call him, if it please you--Iver."
+
+He went down the stairs muttering. What words more he said were
+lost in the noise of his feet.
+
+"Oh, my babe! my babe!" sobbed Mehetabel; "a herald not of goodwill
+but of wicked strife!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+A BEQUEST.
+
+
+As Mehetabel became strong, the better feeling towards her in the
+heart of Sally Rocliffe sank out of sight, and the old ill-humor
+and jealousy took the upper hand once more. It was but too obvious
+to the young mother that the woman would have been well content
+had the feeble flame of life in the child been extinguished. This
+little life stood between her son Samuel and the inheritance of the
+Kink's farm.
+
+Whatever was necessary for the child was done, but done grudgingly,
+and Mehetabel soon learned that the little being that clung to
+her, and drew the milk of life from her bosom, was without a
+friend except herself, in the Punch-Bowl. Jonas maintained a cold
+estrangement from both her and the babe, its aunt would have
+welcomed its death.
+
+The knowledge of this rendered her infant only more dear to
+Mehetabel. Hers was a loving nature, one that hungered and panted
+for love. She had clung as much as was allowed to the hostess at
+the inn. She had been prepared with all her heart to love the man
+to whom she had promised love. But this had been rendered difficult,
+if not impossible, by his conduct. She would have forgiven whatever
+wrong he had done her, had he shown the smallest token of affection
+for his child. Now that he refused the poor, helpless creature the
+least particle of the love that was its due, her heart that had
+expanded towards him, turned away and poured all its warmth on the
+child.
+
+And in love for it she was satisfied. She could dispense with the
+love of others. She thought, cared for, lived but for this one
+little object which engrossed her entire horizon, filled every
+corner of her heart.
+
+Marvellous is maternal love above every other love on earth,
+the most complete reflex of the love of the Creator for His
+creatures. In connubial love there is something selfish. It
+insists on reciprocity. In filial love there is an admixture
+of gratitude for treatment in the past. In maternal love there
+is nothing self-seeking, it is pure benevolence, giving, continuous
+giving, of time, of thought, of body labor, of sleep, of everything.
+It asks for nothing in return, it expects nothing.
+
+Under the power of this mighty love Mehetabel rapidly became strong,
+and bloomed. The color returned to her cheek, the brightness to her
+eye, the smile to her lips, and mirth to her heart.
+
+Whatever seeds of love for Iver had sprung up in her were smothered
+under the luxuriance of this new love that left in her soul no
+space for any other. She thought no more of Iver, for she had no
+thought for any one other than her child.
+
+She who had never had any one of her own round whom to throw her
+arms, and to clasp to her heart, had now this frail infant; and
+the love that might have been dispersed among many recipients was
+given entire to the child--a love without stint, a love without
+bounds, a love infinitely pure and holy as the love that reigns
+in Heaven. So completely absorbed was Mehetabel in her love of the
+child, that the ill-humors of Sarah Rocliffe affected her not, nor
+did the callousness of her husband deeply wound her. So absorbed
+was she, that she hardly gave a thought to Simon Verstage and
+Susanna, and it was with a pang of self-reproach that she received
+an urgent appeal from the latter to visit her, sent through a
+messenger, along with a request that she would bring her infant
+with her in the conveyance sent from the Ship Inn for the purpose.
+
+With readiness and at once Mehetabel obeyed the summons. There was
+a bright flush of pleasure in her cheek as she mounted to her place
+in the little cart, assisted by Joe Filmer, the ostler at the Ship,
+and folded her shawl about the living morsel that was all the world
+to her.
+
+"Well, upon my word," said Joe, "I think, Matabel, you've grown
+prettier than ever, and if Bideabout bain't a happy man, he's
+different constituted from most of us."
+
+Joe might well express his admiration. The young mother was
+singularly lovely now, with sufficient of the delicacy of her
+late confinement still on her, and with the glow of love and pride
+glorifying her face.
+
+She was very pleased to go to the Ship, not so much because she
+wanted to see the hostess, as because she desired to show her the
+babe.
+
+"How is mother?" she asked of Joe Filmer.
+
+The ostler shook his head.
+
+"I should say she hain't long to live. She changed terrible last
+week. If it weren't for her stories about Gilly Cheel, and one or
+another, one wouldn't believe it was the same woman. And the master,
+he is that composed over it all--it is wonderful, wonderful."
+
+Mehetabel was shocked. She was not prepared for this news, and the
+brightness went out of her face. She was even more alarmed and
+troubled when she saw Mrs. Verstage, on whose countenance the
+shadow of approaching death was plainly lying.
+
+But the hostess had lost none of the energy and directness of her
+character.
+
+"My dear Matabel," she said, "it's no use you wishin' an' hopin'.
+Wishin' an' hopin' never made puff paste without lard. I haven't
+got in me the one thing which could raise me up again--the power
+to shake off my complaint. That is gone from me. I thought for
+long I could fight it, and by not givin' way tire it out. You can
+do that with a stubborn horse, but not with a complaint such as
+mine. But there--no more about me, show me the young Broom-Squire."
+
+After the usual scene incident on the exhibition of a babe that is
+its mother's pride, a scene that every woman can fill in for
+herself, and which every man would ask to be excused to witness,
+Mrs. Verstage said: "Matabel, let there be no disguise between us.
+How do you and your husband stand to each other now?"
+
+"I would rather you did not ask me," was the young wife's answer,
+after some hesitation.
+
+"That tells me all," said the hostess. "I did hope that the birth
+of a little son or daughter would have made all right, assisted by
+the cookery book, but I see plainly that it has not. I have heard
+some sort of talks about it. Matabel, now that I stand, not with
+one, but with two feet on the brink of my grave, I view matters in
+a very different light from what I did before, and I do not mind
+tellin' you that I have come to the conclusion that I did a wrong
+thing in persuadin' you to take Bideabout. I have had this troublin'
+me for a long time, and it has not allowed me rest. I have not had
+much sleep of late, because of the pain, and because I always have
+been an active woman, and it puts me out to be a prisoner in my own
+room, and not able to get about. Well, Matabel, I have fretted a
+good deal over this, and have not been able to set my conscience at
+ease. When Polly knocked off the spout of my china teapot, I said
+to her, 'You must buy me another out of your wages.' She got one,
+but 'twasn't the same. It couldn't be the same. The fashion is gone
+out, and they don't make 'em as they did. It is the same with your
+marriage with Bideabout. The thing is done and can't be undone. So
+I need only consider how I can make it up in some other way."
+
+"Mother, pray say nothing more about this. God has given me my
+baby, and I am happy."
+
+"God has given you that," said Mrs. Verstage, "but I have given you
+nothing. I have done nothin' to make amends for the great wrong I
+did you, and which was the spoiling of your life. It is not much I
+can do, but do somethin' I must, and I will, or I shall not die
+happy. Now, my plan is this. I have saved some money. I have for
+many years been puttin' away for Iver, but he does not want it
+greatly. I intend to leave to you a hundred pounds."
+
+"Mother, I pray you do nothing of the kind.
+
+"I must do it, Matabel, to ease my mind."
+
+"Mother, it will make me miserable."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+Mehetabel did not answer.
+
+"I intend this hundred pounds to be your own, and I shall so leave
+it that it shall be yours, and yours only."
+
+"Mother, it will make matters worse." After some hesitation, and
+with a heightened color, she told Mrs. Verstage about the fifteen
+pounds given her on the wedding day by Simon. She told it in such
+a manner as to screen her husband to the utmost. "You know, mother,
+Jonas has high notions about duty, and thinks it not well that we
+should have separate purses. Of course he must judge in these
+matters, and he is, no doubt, right, whereas I am wrong. But, as he
+does hold this opinion, it would anger him were I to have this
+money, and I know what the end would be, that I should have to give
+it all up to him, so that there might be peace between us. I dare
+say he is right."
+
+"I have heard folks say that man should do the courtin' before
+marriage, and the woman after, but I don't hold with it. You may
+give way to them too much. There was Betsy Chivers was that mild
+and humoring to her husband that at last he made her do everything,
+even clean his teeth for him. The hundred pounds is for you, whether
+you wish to have it or not. It is of no use your sayin' another
+word."
+
+"Do you mind, if it were given instead to the baby? May it be left
+to him instead of me? Then there would not be the same difficulty?"
+
+"Certainly, if you like it; but you don't want me to leave him the
+use of it in his present condition. Why, he'd put it into his mouth
+for certain. There must be some one to look after it for him till
+he come of age, and take it upon himself, as the baptism service
+says."
+
+"There must, of course," said Mehetabel, meditatively.
+
+"Money, edged tools, and fire--these are the three things children
+mustn't meddle with. But it isn't children only as must be kept
+off money. Men are just as bad. They have a way of getting rid of
+it is just astonishin' to us females. They be just like jackdaws.
+I know them creeturs--I mean jackdaws, not men, come in at the
+winder and pull all the pins out of the cushion, and carry 'em off
+to line their nest with 'em. And men--they are terrible secretive
+with money. They can't leave a lump sum alone, but must be pickin
+at it, for all the world like Polly and currant cake, or raisin
+puddin'. As for men, they've exactly the same itchin after money.
+If I leave the hundred pounds to your little mite, and I'm willin'
+to do it, I must make some one trustee, and I don't fancy putting
+that upon Bideabout."
+
+"Of course Jonas would look to his own child's interests, yet--"
+
+"I know. There's a complaint some folks have, they're always eatin'
+and you can never see as their food has profited them. It's so
+with Bideabout--he is ever picking up money, but it don't seem to
+do him a scrap of good. What has he done with his money that he
+has saved?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And I don't suppose he does himself. No, if you wish me to leave
+the hundred pounds to the child instead of to yourself then I will
+do so, heartily, and look about for some one in whom I can place
+confidence to undertake to be trustee. Simon is too old and he is
+getting foolish. My word, if, after I'm dead and gone, Simon
+should take it into his stupid head to marry Polly--I'd rise out
+of my grave to forbid the banns."
+
+"You need have no fear of that, mother."
+
+"If you had been in the house you could have kept an eye on him.
+There, again, my wrong deed finds me out. Matabel, it's my
+solemn conviction that there's no foolishness men won't be up
+to, especially widowers. They've been kept in order so long
+that they break out when their wives are dead. Have you ever seen
+a horse as has been clipped and kept all winter on hay in the
+stables when he chances to get out into a meadow, up go his heels,
+he turns frisky, gallops about, and there's no catching him
+again--not even with oats. He prefers the fresh grass and his
+freedom. That's just like widowers; or they're ginger beer
+bottles, very much up, wi' their corks out. What a pity it is
+Providence has given men so little common sense! Well, I'll see
+to that matter of the trusteeship, and the little man shall have
+a hundred pounds as a stand-by in the chance his father may have
+fooled away his own money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+SURPRISES.
+
+
+Jonas Kink not only raised no objection to having an entertainment
+at the baptism of his child, but he expressed his hearty desire
+that nothing should be spared to repay the gossips for what they
+had done to assist the infant into the Christian Church, by feeding
+them well, and giving them what they valued more highly, something
+to drink.
+
+Mehetabel was gratified, and hoped that this was a token that,
+rude as his manner was, he would gradually unbend and become
+amiable. On the day of the christening, Bideabout was in a bustle,
+he passed from one room to another to see that all was in order;
+he rubbed his palms and laughed to himself. Occasionally his eyes
+rested on Sally Rocliffe, and then there was a malicious twinkle
+in them. There was little affection lost between the two. Neither
+took pains to conciliate the other. Each commented freely on
+those characteristics of the other which were in fact common to
+both.
+
+In his ambition to make a man of comparative substance of his son
+Jonas, the father had not dealt liberally by his daughter, and
+this had rankled in Sarah's heart. She had irritated her brother
+by continually raking up this grievance, and assuring him that a
+brother with natural feeling would, out of generosity of his heart,
+make amends for the injustice of the father.
+
+Jonas had not the slightest intention of doing anything of the
+sort, and this he conveyed to Sarah in the most bald and offensive
+manner possible. For twenty years, ever since the father's death,
+these miserable bickerings had gone on. Sally had not the sense to
+desist, where the pursuit of the topic could avail nothing, nor
+Jonas the kindliness to make her a present which might moderate her
+sense of having been unjustly treated.
+
+He had been obliged to employ his sister, and yet he suspected, not
+without cause, that she took away from his house such scraps of
+food and pots and pipkins as were not likely to be missed. The
+woman justified her conduct to herself by the argument that she was
+inadequately paid in coin, and that she was forced to pilfer in
+order to recoup herself for the outlay of time and muscle in her
+brother's habitation. Thomas Rocliffe was a quiet, harmless old
+man, crushed not only by the derision which had clung to him like a
+robe of Nessus ever since his escapade with the Countess Charlotte,
+but also by the weight of his wife's tongue. He had sought peace
+by non-resistance, and this had encouraged her to violence, and had
+removed the only possible check to her temper. He was not a clever
+man. Most people thought him soft. His son Samuel was stupid and
+sullen, rendered both by his mother's treatment from infancy.
+Thomas had not sufficient intelligence and spontaneity to make a
+struggle to overcome his embarrassments, and force himself a way
+out of his difficulties. Instead of the debt that hampered him
+being gradually reduced, as it might have been by a man with
+energy, it had increased. Nothing had been spent on the house since
+the debt had been first contracted, and it was not water-tight.
+Nothing had been done to the land to dress it, to increase the
+stock, to open up another spring of revenue. When a bad year came
+the family fell into actual distress. When a good year ensued no
+margin was left to serve as a provision for one less favorable.
+
+Mehetabel, pleased that her husband had put no hindrance in the
+way of a christening feast, had begrudged none of the necessary
+expense, was active and skilful in the preparation of cakes and
+pies.
+
+To the church she had to go, so as to be churched immediately
+before the baptism, and Jonas remained at home, as he said, to
+see that no one broke in and carried off the good things. Never,
+within the memory of the oldest inhabitant of the Punch-Bowl;
+never, it may safely be asserted, since the Punch-Bowl had been
+formed, had there been seen a table so spread as that in the Kink's
+farmhouse on the day of the christening, and whilst the party was
+at the church. In the first place the table had on it a clean
+linen cover, not riddled with holes nor spotted with iron mould.
+It was exceptional for any table in the Punch-Bowl to be spread
+with linen. There stood on it plated and red earthenware dishes,
+and on the latter many good things. At one end was a cold rabbit
+pie. Rabbits were, indeed, a glut in Thursley, but such a pie
+was a phenomenon.
+
+Bideabout's mind was exercised over it. He was curious to know
+whether the interior corresponded to the promise without. He
+inserted a knife and lifted the crust just sufficiently to allow
+him to project his nose to the edge of the dish and inhale the
+savor of the contents. "My word!" said he, "there's stuffin'.
+Rabbit and stuffin'. Wot next--and egg. I can see the glimmer
+of the white and yaller."
+
+He rose from his stooping posture and saw Samuel Rocliffe at the
+window.
+
+He beckoned to him to enter, and then showed him the table. "Did
+you ever see the likes?" he asked. "You ain't invited, Sam, but
+you can look over it all. There's a posy of flowers in the middle
+of the table, genteel like, as if it were a public house dinner
+to a club, and look at this pie. Do you see how crinkled it is
+all round, like the frill of your mother's nightcap? That was done
+with the scissors, and there's a gloss over the top. That were
+effected with white o' egg. Just think of that! using white o' egg
+when eggs is eighteen a shilling, for making the pie shine like
+your face o' Sundays after you've yaller-soaped it. There's stuffin'
+inside."
+
+"I wish there were in my inside," said Samuel, surlily.
+
+"You ain't invited. Do you see that thing all of a trimble over
+there, a sort of pale ornamental cooriosity? That's called a
+blue-mange. It's made of isinglass and milk and rice flour. It's
+not for ornament, but to be eaten, by such as is invited. There
+they come! You cut away. If you was a few years older, we might
+have invited you. But there ain't room for boys."
+
+The unfortunate Samuel sulkily retired, casting envious eyes at
+the more favored denizens of the Punch-Bowl who were arriving to
+partake of the viands only shown to him.
+
+The guests streamed in and took their places. They enjoyed the
+feast prepared, and passed encomiums on their hostess for her
+cookery. All fought shy at first of the blanc-mange. None had seen
+such a confection previously, and each desired that his fellow
+should taste before committing himself to a helping.
+
+Mrs. Verstage had sent a present of half-a-dozen bottles of currant
+wine, and these were attacked without any hesitation.
+
+All the males at the table were in their shirt-sleeves. No man
+thought of risking his Sunday coat by wearing it, even though the
+viands were cold.
+
+Jonas seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself. He looked about and
+laughed, and rubbed his hands together under the table.
+
+"Beware!" whispered Sally to her husband. "I can't understand
+Bideabout. There's some joke as tickles his in'ards tremendous. Wot
+it is, I don't see."
+
+"He'll let it out presently," said Thomas.
+
+As soon as every appetite was satisfied, and the guests had thrust
+their plates from them into the midst of the table, Giles Cheel
+stood up, and looking round cleared his throat, and said, "Ladies
+and gem'men, neighbors all. I s'pose on such an occasion as this,
+and after such a feed, it's the dooty of one of us to make a
+speech. And as I'm the oldest and most respected of the Broom-Squires
+of the Bowl, I think it proves as I should express the gen'ral
+feelin' of satisfaction we all have. That there rabbit pie might
+ha' been proud to call itself hare. The currant wine was comfortin',
+especially to such as, like myself, has a touch of a chill below
+the ribs, and it helps digestion. There be some new-fangled notions
+comin' up about taytotallin. I don't hold by 'em. The world was
+once drownded with water, and I don't see why we should have Noah's
+Floods in our insides. The world had quite enough taytotallin'
+then."
+
+Giles was pulled backwards by the hand of his wife, which grasped
+the strap of his waistcoat.
+
+"Sit down, you're ramblin' from the p'int."
+
+"Betsy, let go. I be ramblin' up to it."
+
+"Sit down, they've had enough o' yer."
+
+"They've hardly had a taste."
+
+"Everyone be laughin' at yer."
+
+"I'm just about bringin' tears into their eyes."
+
+"If you go on, I'll clap my hand over yer mouth."
+
+"And then I'll punch yer head."
+
+The daily broil in the Cheel house was about to be produced in
+public. It was stopped by Jonas, who rose to his feet, and with a
+leer and chuckle round, he said, "Neighbors and friends and all.
+Very much obliged for the complerment. But don't think it is all
+about a baby. Nothin' of the kind. It is becos I wanted all,
+neighbors and friends, to be together whilst I made an announcement
+which will be pleasant hearin' to some parties, and astonishin' to
+all. I ain't goin' to detain you very long, for what I've got to
+say might be packed in a nutshell and carried away in the stomick
+of a tomtit. You all of you know, neighbors and friends all, as
+how my brother-in-law made a fool of himself, and was made a fool
+of through the Countess Charlotte. And how that his farm got
+mortgaged; and since then, with lawyers, got more charged; and the
+family have led a strugglin' life since to keep their heads above
+water. Well, I've got all their mortgage and debts into my hands,
+and intend--"
+
+He looked round with a malicious laugh. He saw a flutter of
+expectation in his sister's eyes.
+
+"No, Sally. I ain't going to give 'em up. I hold em, and ain't
+goin' to stand no shilly-shally about payments when due. You may
+be sure of that. And wot is more, I won't stand no nonsense from
+you or Thomas or Samuel, but I expect you to be my very humble
+servants, or I'll sell you up."
+
+A look of blank consternation fell on the faces of the Rocliffes.
+Others looked uneasy. Not the Rocliffes only were partially
+submerged.
+
+"I've somethin' also to say to Gilly Cheel. I ain't goin' to have
+the Punch-Bowl made a Devil's cauldron of wi' his quarrels--"
+
+"Hear, hear," from Betsy Cheel.
+
+"And unless he lives peaceable, and don't trouble me wi' his noise
+and she wi' her cattewawlin'."
+
+"That's for you," said Jamaica, and nudged his wife.
+
+"I'll turn 'em both out," proceeded Jonas. "For I've been gettin'
+his papers into my hands also. And then, as to the Boxalls--"
+
+The members of that clan now looked blank. Consternation was
+spreading to all at table.
+
+"As to the Boxalls," continued Jonas, "if their time hasn't come
+just yet, it's comin'. I hope, neighbors and friends all, you've
+enjyed the dessert."
+
+A dead silence ensued. Every one felt that it would be better to
+be in the power of a lawyer than of Bideabout.
+
+Tears of mortification and resentment rose in the eyes of Sally
+Rocliffe. Mehetabel hung her head in shame.
+
+Then Thomas, stolid and surly, flung a letter across the table to
+the Broom-Squire. "Take that," he said, "I don't wan't to be
+burdened with nothin' of your'n. 'Tis a letter been lyin' at the
+post for you, and Mistress Chivers gave it me. Wish I wos rid of
+everything atwixt us as I be of that there letter now."
+
+Jonas took the missive, turned it about, then carelessly opened it.
+
+As he read his color faded, and he had hardly read to the end
+before he sank back in his chair with a cry of rage and despair;
+"The Wealden bank be broke. I'm a ruined man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+ANOTHER SURPRISE.
+
+
+Among those present the only one who came to the assistance of Jonas
+Kink was his brother-in-law, Thomas Rocliffe, who, thinking that
+Bideabout was going to have a fit, ran to him and unloosed his
+black satin cravat.
+
+The revulsion of feeling in the rest was so sudden that it produced
+a laugh. He who had been exulting in having put their necks under
+his foot had been himself struck down in the moment of his triumph.
+He had sought to humble them in a manner peculiarly mean, and no
+compassion was felt for him now in his distress.
+
+The guests filed out without a word of thanks for the meal of which
+they had partaken, or an expression of pity for the downcast man.
+
+For some while Bideabout remained motionless, looking at the letter
+before him on the table. Mehetabel did not venture to approach or
+address him. She watched him with anxiety, not knowing in which
+direction the brooding rage within him would break forth. He was
+now like a thunder-cloud charged with electricity and threatening
+all with whom he came in contact.
+
+Hearing the wail of her child, she was glad noiselessly to leave
+the room and hasten to comfort it. Presently Jonas rose, and in a
+half stupefied condition went to the stable and saddled old Clutch
+that he might ride to Godalming and learn whether things were as
+bad as represented.
+
+In his impatience to announce to his guests that he had them under
+his control he had been somewhat premature. It was true that the
+negotiations were complete whereby their mortgages and obligations
+were transferred to him, but the money that he was to pay therefor
+had not been made over. Now it would not be possible for him to
+complete the transaction. Not only so, but he had incurred expenses
+by his employment of a solicitor to carry out his design which it
+would be extremely difficult for him to meet, if the bank had
+actually failed.
+
+He alone of all the squires in the Punch-Bowl had put his savings
+into a bank, and he had done this because he was so frequently
+and so long from home that he did not dare to leave them anywhere
+in his house, lest it should be broken into during his absence.
+
+As the Broom-Squire approached Thursley village his horse cast a
+shoe, and he was obliged to stop at the farrier's to have old
+Clutch shod.
+
+"How do'y do, Squire?" said the blacksmith. "Been christenin' your
+baby, I hear."
+
+Bideabout grunted in reply.
+
+"One comes and another goes," said the farrier. "S'pose you've
+heard the news?"
+
+"Think I have," retorted Jonas, irritably. "It's them banks is
+broke."
+
+"I don't mean no banks," said the blacksmith. "But Susanna Verstage.
+I s'pose you've heard she's gone?"
+
+"Gone, where to?"
+
+"That's not for me to say. She's been ailin' some time and now has
+gone off, sudden like. O' course we knowed it must come, but nobody
+didn't think it would ha' come so sudden--and she seemed such a
+hearty woman, only a few months ago. Well, I s'pose it's ordained."
+
+The Broom-Squire did not ask questions. He took very little
+interest in the matter of the death of the hostess of the Ship.
+His mind was engrossed in his own troubles.
+
+As soon as old Clutch had his shoe fitted on, and the other shoes
+looked to, Bideabout pursued his way.
+
+His progress was not fast. Clutch was personally unaffected by the
+failure of the bank, and could not be induced to accelerate his
+speed. Beating only made him more stubborn, and when Bideabout
+stretched his legs out to the furthest possible extent apart
+that was possible, and then brought them together with a sudden
+contraction so as to dig his heels into the horse's ribs, that
+brought Clutch to an absolute standstill.
+
+On reaching Godalming, the worst anticipations of Jonas were
+confirmed. The bank was closed; his savings were lost. Nothing
+had been withdrawn in time to secure them by giving him a hold
+on the squatter settlements of his neighbors. And he himself had
+incurred liabilities that might bring him into the same pit that
+he had digged for his fellows.
+
+He turned homewards in great discouragement and acridity of
+heart. His fellows in the Punch-Bowl had never regarded him with
+cordiality; now they would be his combined enemies. The thoughts
+of his heart were gloomy. In no direction could he see light. He
+now did not urge Clutch along beyond the pace at which the old
+horse had made up his mind to go; it was immaterial to Jonas
+whether he were on the road or at home. Nowhere would he be free
+from his trouble.
+
+He would, perhaps, have turned into the Ship for a glass of spirits
+but, remembering that he had been told the hostess was dead, he
+did not feel inclined to enter a house where he would be still
+further depressed. He had not, however, gone far out of the
+village, before he heard his name called from behind, and on
+turning his head saw Joe Filmer in pursuit.
+
+The ostler came up to him, panting and said--
+
+"Ter'rible news, ain't it? The old lady gone. But that ain't why
+I've stopped you. 'Tis she bade me give your missus a message--as
+she hadn't forgot the bequest of money. But we're that muddled and
+busy at the Ship, I can't go to the Punch-Bowl, so I just runned
+after you. You'll take the message for me, won't you?"
+
+"Money!" exclaimed Bideabout, reining in old Clutch, who now
+objected to be stayed on his way to the familiar stable. "Money!"
+repeated Bideatout, and then lugged at old Clutch's rein till he
+had turned the brute about.
+
+The horse had sufficient obstinacy in him to persist in his
+intentions of not being stopped on the high-road, and though
+turned round he continued to scramble along in the reverse direction
+to his home.
+
+"Hang you, you old toad!" exclaimed Jonas. "If you will, I don't
+care. Be it so. We will go to the Ship. I say, Joe! What was that
+about money?"
+
+"It was that the missus made me promise to inform your missus,
+that she'd not forgotten her undertakin', but had made provision
+that she should have the money as she wished."
+
+"The money--how much?"'
+
+"I do not know. She did not say."
+
+"And she has left money to Matabel?"
+
+"I suppose so. She was always amazin' fond of her. She was a savin'
+woman, and had put away something of her own."
+
+"I'll go to the Ship. I will, certainly. I ought not to have passed
+without a word with Simon on his loss. I suppose he's sure to know
+how much it is?"
+
+"I suppose so. Missus would consult him. She made a show o' that
+always, but nevertheless followed her own head."
+
+"And Simon is terrible cut up?"
+
+"Bears it like a man."
+
+"Here, take old Clutch; give him some oats, and kick him, he
+deserves it, he's been so unruly. But, stay--no. Hold his head,
+and I'll kick him, afore he's had his oats. He's a darned malicious
+old Radical. Put in some pepper to his nose when he's done his
+oats."
+
+Bideabout went into the house, through the porch, and entered the
+bar.
+
+Simon was seated there smoking a long clay, with his feet on the
+fender, before a glowing fire, and with a stiff glass of hot punch
+on the table at his side.
+
+"Sorry for you," was Jonas's brief address of salutation and
+condolence.
+
+Mr. Verstage shook his head. "That's what my old woman said."
+
+Seeing an expression of surprise and query in the Broom-Squire's
+face, he explained: "Not after, afore, in course. She said, 'Very
+sorry for you, Simon, very. It's wus for you than for me, I shall
+die--you'll make yourself ridic'lous.'"
+
+"What did she mean?"
+
+"Can't think," answered Simon, with great solemnity. "Will you have
+a drop of something? In this vale of tears we want consolation."
+Then, in a loud voice, "Polly--another glass."
+
+After looking steadily and sadly into the embers, Mr. Verstage
+said: "I don't believe that woman ever made a mistake in her
+life--but once."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"When she gave Matabel to you. We wanted her in this house. Her
+proper place was here. It all comes wi' meddlin' wi' what ort to
+be let alone--and that is Providence. There's never no sayin' but
+Iver--"
+
+Dimly the old host saw that he was floundering upon delicate
+ground. "My doctrine is," said he, "let things alone and they'll
+come right in the end."
+
+Bideabout moved uneasily. He winced at the reference to Iver. But
+what he now really was anxious to arrive at was the matter of money
+left by Mrs. Verstage to Mehetabel.
+
+"Now," said Simon, looking after the serving-maid, as she left the
+bar, when she had deposited the tumbler beside Bideabout. "Now, my
+old woman was amazin' set against that girl. Why--I can't think.
+She's a good girl when let alone. But Sanna never would let her
+alone. She were ever naggin' at her; so that she upset the poor
+thing's nerve. She broke the taypot and chucked the beer to the
+pigs, but that was because she were flummeried wi' my old woman
+going on at her so. She said to me she really couldn't bear to
+think how I'd go on after she were gone. I sed, to comfort her,
+that I knowed Polly would do her best. 'She'll do the best she can
+for herself,' answered Sanna, as sharp as she said 'Yes, I will,'
+when we was married. I don't know what her meanin' was. You won't
+believe it, but it's true what I'm going to tell you. She said to
+me, did Susanna, 'Simon there was Mary Toft, couldn't die, because
+there were wild-fowl feathers in her bed. They had to take her off
+the four-poster and get another feather-bed, before she could die
+right off. Now,' said Sanna, 'it's somethin' like that with me. I
+ain't got wild-bird feathers under me, but there's a wild fowl in
+the house, and that's Polly. So long as she's here die I can't,
+and die I won't.' 'Well, old woman,' sed I, if that's all, to
+accommodate you, I'll send Polly to her mother,' and so I did--and
+she died right on end, peaceable."
+
+"But Polly is here."
+
+"Oh, yes--when Sanna were gone--we couldn't do wi'out her. She
+knowed that well enough and came back--runnin' like a long dog,
+and very good and thoughtful it was of her. Most young wimen ain't
+considerate like that."
+
+This was all wide of the subject that engrossed the interest of
+Bideabout, and had induced him to revisit the Ship. As the host
+made no allusion to the topic, the Broom-Squire plunged into the
+matter, headforemost.
+
+"Joe Filmer," said he, "called me back. I didn't wish to come in
+and trouble you now. But Joe said as how you wanted to speak to me
+about some money as your wife had left with you for my Matabel;
+and I thought it might be botherin' your mind when you wanted to
+turn it to religious thought, and so I came back to say I'd
+relieve you of it and take it at once."
+
+"Money! Oh!" Mr. Verstage was a little difficult to turn from one
+line of thought to another. "Polly never stood out for higher
+wages. Not like some who, when they've been with you just long
+enough to learn the ways of the house, and to make themselves
+useful, and not to break everything they handle, and spoil
+everything they touch, ask, 'Please will you advance my wages?'
+Polly never did that."
+
+"I am not speakin' of Polly," said Jonas, peevishly, "but of some
+money that Joe Filmer told me you wanted to tell me about. Something
+that your poor wife desired you to give to Matabel."
+
+"Oh, you mean that hundred pounds. I wasn't against it. On the
+contrary, I said I'd add fifty to it. I always said Sanna did wrong
+in giving Matabel to--I mean flying in the face of Providence."
+
+"I shall be very glad to take it, and thus relieve your mind of
+all care."
+
+"Oh, it's no care at all."
+
+"It must be, and besides--it must interfere with your turning your
+mind to serious thoughts."
+
+"Oh, not at all. I can't give you the money. It is not for you."
+
+"No; but it is for Matabel, and we are one."
+
+"Oh, no; it's not for Matabel."
+
+"The hundred and fifty pounds is not for Matabel? And yet you said
+it was intended to make up to her for something you did not exactly
+explain."
+
+"No, it is not for Matabel. Matabel might have had it, I daresay,
+but my old woman said she was set against that."
+
+"Then we are to be deprived of it by her folly?" The Broom-Squire
+flushed purple.
+
+"Oh, no. It is all right. It is for the child."
+
+"For the child! That is all the same. I am the father, and will
+take care of the money."
+
+"But I can't give it you."
+
+"Have you not got it?"
+
+"The money is all right. Sanna's hundred pounds--I know where that
+is, and my fifty shall go along with it. I was always fond of
+Matabel. But the child was only baptized to-day, and won't be old
+enough to enjoy it for many years."
+
+"In the meantime it can be laid out to its advantage," urged
+Bideabout.
+
+"I daresay," said Simon, "but I've nothin' to do with that, and
+you've nothin' to do with that."
+
+"Then who has?"
+
+"Iver, of course."
+
+"Iver!" The Broom-Squire turned livid as a corpse.
+
+"You see," pursued the host, "Sanna said as how she wouldn't make
+me trustee, I was too old, and I might be dead, or done something
+terrible foolish, before the child came of age to take it on itself,
+to use her very words. So she wouldn't make me trustee, but she
+put it all into Iver's hands to hold for the little chap. She were
+a won'erful shrewd woman were Sanna, and I've no doubt she was
+right."
+
+"Iver trustee--for my child!"
+
+"Yes--why not?"
+
+The Broom-Squire stood up, and without tasting the glass of punch
+mixed for him, without a farewell to the landlord, went forth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+MARKHAM.
+
+
+The funeral of Mrs. Verstage was conducted with all the pomp and
+circumstance that delight the rustic mind. Bideabout attended, and
+his hat was adorned with a black silk weeper that was speedily
+converted by Mehetabel, at his desire, into a Sunday waistcoat.
+
+In this silk waistcoat he started on old Clutch one day for
+Guildford, without informing his wife or sister whither he was bound.
+
+The child was delicate and fretful, engaging most of its mother's
+time and engrossing all her thought.
+
+She had found an old cradle of oak, with a hood to it, the whole
+quaintly and rudely carved, the rockers ending in snakes' heads,
+in which several generations of Kinks had lain; in which, indeed,
+Jonas had spent his early infancy, and had pleaded for his mother's
+love and clamored for her attention. Whether with the thought of
+amusing the child, or merely out of the overflow of motherly love
+that seeks to adorn and glorify the babe, Mehetabel had picked the
+few late flowers that lingered on in spite of frost, some pinched
+chrysanthemums, a red robin that had withstood the cold, some twigs
+of butcher's broom with blood-red berries that had defied it, and
+these she had stuck about the cradle in little gimlet holes that
+had been drilled round the edge, probably to contain pegs that might
+hold down a cover, to screen out glaring sun or cutting draught.
+
+Now, as Mehetabel rocked the cradle and knitted, singing to the
+sobbing child, the flowers wavered about the infant, forming a
+wreath of color, and freshening the air with their pure fragrance.
+Each flower in itself was without much perceptible savor, yet the
+whole combined exhaled a healthy, clean, and invigorating waft as
+of summer air over a meadow.
+
+The wreath that surrounded the child was not circular but oblong,
+almost as though engirding a tiny grave, but this Mehetabel did not
+see.
+
+Playing the cradle with her foot, with the sun shining in at the
+window and streaking the foot, she sang--
+
+  "My heart is like a fountain true
+   That flows and flows with love to you;
+   As chirps the lark unto the tree,
+   So chirps my pretty babe to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby."
+
+But the answer was a peevish moan from the bed. The young mother
+stooped over the cradle.
+
+  "Oh, little lark! little lark! this is no chirp,
+   Would you were as glad and as gay as the lark!"
+
+Then, resuming her rocking, she sang,
+
+  "There's not a rose where'er I seek
+   As comely as my baby's cheek.
+   There's not a comb of honey bee,
+   So full of sweets as babe to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby."
+
+Again she bowed over the crib, and all the rocking flowers quivered
+and stood still.
+
+"Baby, darling! Why are there such poor roses in your little cheek?
+I would value them above all the China roses ever grown! Look at
+the Red Robin, my sweet, my sweet, and become as pink as is that."
+
+  "There's not a star that shines on high
+   Is brighter than my baby's eye.
+   There's not a boat upon the sea
+   Can dance as baby does to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby."
+
+  "No silk was ever spun so fine
+   As is the hair of baby mine.
+   My baby smells more sweet to me
+   Than smells in spring the elder tree.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!"
+
+The child would not sleep.
+
+Again the mother stayed the rocking of the cradle, and the swaying
+of the flowers.
+
+She lifted the little creature from its bed carefully lest the
+sharp-leafed butcher's broom should scratch it. How surrounded was
+that crib with spikes, and they poisonous! And the red berries oozed
+out of the ribs of the cruel needle-armed leaves, like drops of
+heart's blood.
+
+Mehetabel took her child to her bosom, and rocked her own chair,
+and as she rocked, the sunbeam flashed across her face, and then
+she was in shadow, then another flash, and again shadow, and from
+her face, when sunlit, a reflection of light flooded the little
+white dress of the babe, and illumined the tiny arm, and restless
+fingers laid against her bosom.
+
+  "A little fish swims in the well,
+   So in my heart does baby dwell.
+   A little flower blows on the tree,
+   My baby is the flower to me.
+   And It's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby!"
+
+A wondrous expression of peace and contentment was on Mehetabel's
+face. None of the care and pain that had lined it, none of the gloom
+of hopelessness that had lain on it, had left now thereon a trace.
+In her child all her hope was centred, all her love culminated.
+
+  "The King has sceptre, crown and ball.
+   You are my sceptre, crown and all,
+   For all his robes of royal silk.
+   More fair your skin, as white as milk.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!
+
+  "Ten thousand parks where deer may run,
+   Ten thousand roses in the sun.
+   Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea.
+   My babe, more precious is to me.
+   And it's O! sweet, sweet, and a lullaby!"
+
+Presently gentle sleep descended on the head of the child, the
+pink eyelids closed, the restless hand ceased to grope and clutch,
+and the breath came evenly. Mehetabel laid her little one again in
+its cradle, and recommenced the rocking with the accompanying
+swaying of the flowers.
+
+Now that the child was asleep Mehetabel sat lightly swinging the
+cradle, afraid to leave it at rest lest that of her infant should
+again be broken.
+
+She thought of the death of her almost mother Susanna Verstage,
+the only woman that had shown her kindness, except the dame of the
+school she had attended as a child.
+
+Mehetabel's heart overflowed with tender love towards the deceased,
+she fully, frankly forgave her the cruel blow whereby she had
+wounded her, and had driven her out of her house and into that of
+Jonas. And yet it was a deadly wrong: a wrong that could never be
+redressed. The wound dealt her would canker her heart away; it was
+of such a nature that nothing could heal it. Mehetabel was well
+aware of this. She could see brightness before her in one direction
+only. From her child alone could she derive hope and joy in
+the future. And yet she forgave Mrs. Verstage with a generous
+forgiveness which was part of her nature. She would forgive Jonas
+anything, everything, if he would but acknowledge his wrong, and
+turn to her in love.
+
+And now she found that she could think of Iver without a quickening
+of her pulses.
+
+In her love for her babe all other loves had been swallowed up,
+refined, reduced in force. She loved Iver still, but only as a
+friend, a brother. Her breast had room for one prevailing love
+only--that of her child.
+
+As she sat, slightly rocking the cradle, and with a smile dimpling
+her cheek, a knock sounded at the door, and at her call there
+entered a young man whom she had seen during the winter with Jonas.
+He was a gentleman, and she had been told that he had lodged at the
+Huts, and she knew that he had engaged the Broom-Squire to attend
+him, when duck-shooting, at the Fransham ponds.
+
+Mehetabel apologized for not rising as he entered, and pointed to
+the cradle.
+
+"My name is Markham," said the young man, "I have come to see Mr.
+Kink. This is his house, I believe?"
+
+"Yes, sir; but he is not at home."
+
+"Will he be long absent?"
+
+"I do not know. Will you please to take a chair?"
+
+"Thank you." The young gentleman seated himself, wiped his brow,
+and threw his cap on the floor.
+
+"I want some fishing. I made Mr. Kink's acquaintance, shooting,
+during the winter. Excuse me, are you his sister or his wife?"
+
+"His wife, sir."
+
+"You are very young."
+
+To this Mehetabel made no reply.
+
+"And uncommonly pretty," pursued Mr. Markham, looking at her with
+admiration. "Where the deuce did the Broom-Squire pick you up?"
+
+The young mother was annoyed--a little color formed in her cheek.
+"Can I give a message to Jonas?" she asked.
+
+"A message? Tell him he's a lucky dog. By heaven! I had no idea
+that a pearl lay at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. And that is your
+baby?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Mehetabel lightly raised the sheet that covered the child's head.
+
+The stranger stooped and looked at the sleeping child, that seemed
+to be made uneasy by his glance, and turned moaning away.
+
+"It looks as if it were for another world--not this," said the
+gentleman.
+
+The flush spread over Mehetabel's brow. "Sir," she said in a
+fluttering voice, "You are not a doctor, are you?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no!--a barrister."
+
+"Then," said she, in a tone of relief, "you do not know. The child
+is very well, but young."
+
+"That may be."
+
+The young man returned to his seat.
+
+"I have left a fishing-rod outside," he said. "I wanted Kink to
+accompany me on one of the ponds where there is a punt. There must
+be plenty of fish in these sheets of water?"
+
+"I believe there are, sir. As Jonas is away, perhaps Samuel Rocliffe
+can help you. He is my husband's nephew, and lives in the cottage,
+a little further down."
+
+"Thank you, I'll look him up. But, hang me, if I like to leave--with
+such attractions here I do not care to leave."
+
+After standing, considering a moment, hardly taking his eyes off
+Mehetabel, he said--"My pretty little hostess, if ever I begrudged
+a man in my life, I begrudge Jonas Kink--his wife. Come and tell me
+when you find him intolerable, and see if I cannot professionally
+help you to be rid of such a curmudgeon. Who knows?--the time may
+come! My name is Markham."
+
+Then he departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE PICTURE.
+
+
+Meanwhile Bideabout was on his way to the town of Guildford. He
+made slow progress, for old Clutch had no mind for speed. The horse
+was mistrustful as to whither he was going, and how he would be
+treated on reaching his destination. No amount of beating availed.
+He had laid on his winter growth of hair, which served as a mat,
+breaking the force of the strokes administered. He was proof against
+kicks, for whenever Jonas extended his legs for the purpose of
+bringing his heels sharply against the sides of Clutch, the old
+horse drew a deep inspiration and blew himself out; thus blunting
+the force of the heels driven into him.
+
+At length, however, Jonas and old Clutch did reach Guildford. To
+old Clutch's great astonishment he found himself in a town new to
+him, more populous than Godalming; and being strongly convinced
+that he had done enough, and that every house was an inn open to
+receive him, and being eager to make himself comfortable, he
+endeavored to carry his master into a china-shop, then into a
+linen-draper's shop, and next into a green-grocer's.
+
+Jonas was constrained to stable his obstinate steed in the first
+tavern he came to, and to make the rest of his way on foot.
+
+Guildford is, to this day, a picturesque old town, dominated by
+the ruins of a fine royal castle, and with a quaint Grammar School
+and hospital. At the present time it is going through immense
+transformation. It has become a favorite retiring place for old
+officers of the army, supplanting in this respect Cheltenham. But
+at the period of this tale it was a sleepy, ancient, county town
+that woke to life on market days, and rested through the remainder
+of the week. It did not work six days and keep one Sabbath, but
+held the Sabbath for six days and woke to activity on one only.
+
+Now nobody quite knows who are all the new people that flow into
+the villas, and flood the suburbs. At the period whereof we tell
+there were no invaders of the place. Everybody knew every one else
+in his own clique, and knew of and looked down on every one else in
+the clique below him, and thanked God that he only knew of him,
+and did not know him; and looked up at and slandered every one
+else in the clique above him.
+
+At the time of which we tell there was no greater joy to those in
+each of the many cliques than to be able to stare at those who
+belonged to a clique esteemed lower, and to ask who those people
+were, and profess never to have heard their names, and to wonder
+out of what dungheap they had sprung.
+
+At that time the quintessence of society in the town consisted of
+such as were called upon and returned the calls of the county
+families. Now, alas, almost every country gentleman's house in the
+neighborhood is no longer occupied by its ancient proprietors, and
+is sold or let to successful tradespeople, so that the quintessence
+of society in the town plumes itself on not knowing the occupants
+of these stately mansions.
+
+At that time the family that inhabited a house which had been
+built fifty years before regarded with contempt those who occupied
+one built only thirty years before. At that time those who had a
+remote connection by cousinship twice removed with an Honorable,
+deemed themselves justified in considering every one else, not so
+privileged, as dishonorable.
+
+Now all this is past, or is in process of passing away, and in
+Guildford and its suburbs, as elsewhere, the old order changeth,
+and the poll of a Parish Council teaches men their levels in the
+general estimation.
+
+Without much difficulty, Jonas Kink was able to discover where the
+artist, Iver Verstage, had his house and his studio. The house was
+small, in a side street, and the name was on the door.
+
+Jonas was ushered into the workshop by an elderly maid, and then
+saw Iver in a blouse with his arms tied about with string; a
+mahl-stick in one hand and a brush in the other.
+
+Iver was surprised to see the Broom-Squire, and indisposed to
+welcome him. He purposely retained stick and brush in his hands,
+so as not to be able to strike palms with the man who had deprived
+him of the woman he admired and loved best in the world; and whom
+he suspected of misusing her.
+
+Jonas looked about the studio, and his eye was caught by a picture
+of Mehetabel at the well head. The young artist had devoted his
+best efforts to finishing his study, and working it up into an
+effective and altogether charming painting.
+
+The Broom-Squire held in the right hand the stick wherewith he had
+thrashed old Clutch, and this he now transferred to the left,
+whilst extending his right hand and forcing a smile on his leathery
+face. The artist made a pretence of seeking out some place where
+he could put down the articles encumbering his hands, but finding
+none, he was unable to return the salutation.
+
+"Let bygones be bygones," said Jonas, and he dropped his hand.
+"Fine pictur' that, very like my wife. What, now, have you sold
+that for?"
+
+"It is not sold at all. I do not think I shall part with the
+painting."
+
+"Why not?" asked Jonas, with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes and
+a flush on his cheek-bones.
+
+"Because it is a good sample of my ability which I can show to
+such as come as customers, and also because it reminds me of an
+old friend."
+
+"Then you may take my portrait," said Jonas, "and sell this. Mine
+will do as well, and you knowed me afore you did Matabel."
+
+"That is true," laughed Iver, "but I am not sure that you would
+make so striking subject, so inspiring to the artist. Did you
+come all the way from the Punch-Bowl to see the painting?"
+
+"No, I didn't," answered Jonas.
+
+"Then had you business in the town?"
+
+"None particular."
+
+"Was it to give me the pleasure of seeing you and asking after
+old friends at Thursley?"
+
+"Old friends," sneered Bideabout; "much the like o' you cares for
+them as is old. It's the young and the bloomin' as is to your
+fancy. And I reckon it ain't friends as you would ask about, but
+a friend, and that's Matabel. Well, I don't mind tellin' of yer
+that she's got a baby, but I s'pose you've heard that, and the
+child ain't over strong and healthy, such as ort to be in the
+Punch-Bowl, where we're all hard as nails."
+
+"Aye, not in physique only?"
+
+"I don't know nothin about physic. I didn't take it when I were
+poorly, and nobody ever did in the Punch-Bowl as I've heard tell
+on. I sent once to Gorlmyn (Godalming) for a sleepin' draught,
+when I were bad wi' that shot in my shoulder as you knows of. But
+I never took it, not I."
+
+"So you've come to see me?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I've come, civil and neighbor-like, to see you."
+
+"What about? Will you sit down?"
+
+"Thanky, I just about like to stand. Yes, I've come to see you--on
+business."
+
+"On business!"
+
+"Yes, on business. You're trustee, I hear, for the child."
+
+"To be sure I am. Mother put away a hundred pounds, and father has
+added fifty to it--and it is for your little one, some day."
+
+"Well," said Jonas, "what I've come about is I wants it now."
+
+"What, the hundred and fifty pounds?"
+
+"Aye, I reckon the hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"But the money is not left to you."
+
+"I know it b'aint; I want it for the child."
+
+"You are not going to have it."
+
+"Look here. Master Iver Verstage, you never ort to ha' been made
+trustee for my child. It's so much as puttin' a slight and an
+insult on me. If that child be mine then I'm the one as should
+have the trust. Don't I know best what the child wants? Don't I
+know best how to lay it out for its advantage? The money ort to
+ha' been put in my hands and in none other. That's my opinion."
+
+"Bideabout!" answered Iver, "it is not a question as to what my
+father and mother should have done. I did not seek to be made
+trustee. It was a freak on the part of my dear mother. As she has
+done it, there it is; neither you nor I can alter that."
+
+"Yes. You can renounce trusteeship."
+
+"That will not help. Then I suppose the money would go into
+Chancery, and would be consumed there without any of it reaching
+the child."
+
+Jonas considered, and then shook his head.
+
+"You can hand it over to me."
+
+"Then I should be held responsible and have to refund when the
+little fellow comes of age."
+
+"He may never come of age."
+
+"That neither you nor I can tell."
+
+"Now look here," said the Broom-Squire, assuming an air of
+confidence, "between you and me, as old acquaintances, and
+me as gave you the feathers out o' a snipe's wing to make your
+first brush--and, so to speak, launched you in your career of
+greatness--between you and me I'm in an awkward perdic'ment.
+Through the failure of the Wealden Bank, of which you've heard
+tell, I've lost pretty much everything as I had managed to save
+through years of toil and frugality. And now I'm menaced in my
+little property. I don't know as I shall be able to hold it,
+unless some friend comes to the help. Well, now, who'll that
+little property go to but my son--that there precious darlin'
+baby as we're talkin' about. He'll grow out o' his squawlin',
+and he'll want his property unincumbered and clear, as it came
+to me. That I can't give him unless helped. I don't ask that
+there hundred and fifty pounds for myself. I know very well that
+I can't have it for myself. But I demand it for the child; it is
+now or never can the little estate in the Punch-Bowl be saved
+from fallin' into the hands of them darned lawyers. A stitch in
+time saves nine, and a little help now may be all that is wanted
+to keep the property clean and clear and unembarrassed wi' debt.
+If once we get our heads under water we'll all get drowned, me
+and Matabel and the kid--sure as crabs ain't garden apples."
+
+"That may be very true, Bideabout," answered Iver, "but for all
+that I cannot let the money out of my control."
+
+"Ain't you bound to spend it on the child?"
+
+"I am bound to reserve it whole and intact for the child."
+
+"But can you not see," persisted Jonas, "that you are doing that
+for the child, it would wish above all, when come to years of
+discretion."
+
+"That is possible, but my hands are tied."
+
+"In truth you will not."
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"I don't believe you. It is because you want to spite me that you
+will not help."
+
+"Not at all, Bideabout. I wish well to the child and its mother,
+and, of course, to you. But I cannot break a trust."
+
+"You will not?"
+
+"If no other word will suit you--be it so--I will not."
+
+Jonas Kink fumed blood red.
+
+"You think to have me there. I shouldn't be surprised but it's you
+who are at the bottom of all--and will buy me up and buy me out,
+that you and Matabel may have the place to yourselves. It shall
+never be. I know what was meant when Sanna Verstage made you
+trustee. I am to be reckoned with. I can assure you of that. I
+shall find means to keep my property from you and my wife also."
+
+He raised his stick and fell to beating the picture of Mehetabel
+with it; till it was rent to rags.
+
+"Not even her picture shall you have--and I would it were her I
+were slashin' and breakin' to pieces as I've done to this picture.
+It may come to that in the end--but out of my power and into your
+hands she shall never go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE ONLY CHANGE
+
+
+Jonas Kink, after much objurgation and persuasion, had induced
+old Clutch to leave his stable at Guildford, and return home by
+way of Godalming.
+
+But the horse was unfamiliar with the road. He had been ridden
+along it in reverse direction in the morning, but, as every
+one knows, a way wears quite a different aspect under such
+circumstances. Old Clutch was mistrustful. Having been taken such
+an unprecedentedly long journey, he was without confidence that his
+master might not prolong the expedition to a still further distance.
+Accordingly he was exceedingly troublesome and unmanageable on the
+road from Guildford, and his behavior served to work the temper of
+Jonas to the extremity of irritability.
+
+The horse, on approaching Godalming, began to limp. Bideabout
+descended, and examined each hoof. He could see no stone there,
+nothing to account for the lameness of old Clutch, which, however,
+became so pronounced as he entered the street of the little town
+that he was obliged to stable the beast, and rest it.
+
+Then he went direct to the offices of a small attorney of the name
+of Barelegs, who had been engaged on his business.
+
+As he entered the office, Mr. Barelegs looked up from a deed he
+was reading, turned his head, and contemplated his client.
+
+There was something in his manner that angered Jonas, already
+excited and inclined to be annoyed at trifles, and he said
+irritably,--
+
+"You look at me. Mister Barelegs, just as does old Clutch when I
+come into the stable, expectin' a feed of corn, he does."
+
+"And no doubt he deserves it."
+
+"He thinks he does, but he don't."
+
+"And no doubt he gets his feed."
+
+"There is doubt about it. He gets it when I choose to give it,
+not when he glowers at me--that way, he's wonderful artificial is
+old Clutch."
+
+"I dare be sworn, Mr. Kink, if he has served you well, he expects
+to be paid for it."
+
+"He's an owdacious old Radical," observed Jonas. "Just now he's
+shamming lame, becos I rode him into Guildford, and he likes the
+inn here. There's an old broken-winded, galled gray mare, I reckon
+he's set his fancy on in the same yard, and I'm pretty sure this
+lameness means nothin' more nor less than that he wants to be
+a-courtin'. To see them two hosses, when they meet, rubbin' heads,
+is enough to make a fellow sick. And Clutch, at his age too--when
+he ort to be thinkin' of his latter end!"
+
+"We've all our little weaknesses, Mr. Kink, man and beast alike.
+You courted--not so long ago."
+
+"I never courted in the ridic'lous fashion of other folks. I'd
+none of your yardin', and aiblen' to aiblen', and waistin'."
+
+"What do you mean, Mr. Kink?"
+
+"Don't you know the three stages o' courtin here? Fust o' all,
+the young pair walks each other about a yard apart--that's yardin'.
+Then they gits more familiar, and takes each other's arms. That's
+wot we calls in these parts aiblen' to aiblen', and last, when
+they curls their arms round each other, won'erful familiar, that's
+called waistin'. No, I never went through none o' them courses in
+my courtship. I weren't such a fool. But I was tellin' you about
+old Clutch."
+
+"I want to hear about that party. What if he does not receive his
+feed. Doesn't he kick?"
+
+Jonas laughed ironically.
+
+"He tried that on once. But I got a halter, and fastened it to
+his tail by the roots, and made a loop t'other end, and when he
+put up his heels I slipped one into the loop, and he nigh pulled
+his tail off at the stump."
+
+"Then, perhaps he bites."
+
+"He did try that on," Jonas admitted, "but he won't try that on
+again."
+
+"How did you cure him of biting?" asked the solicitor.
+
+"I saw what he was up to, when I was a-grooming of him. He tried
+to get hold of my arm. I was prepared for him. I'd slipped my arm
+out o' my sleeve and stuffed the sleeve with knee-holm (butcher's
+broom), and when he bit he got the prickles into his mouth so as
+he couldn't shut it again, but stood yawnin' as if sleepy till I
+pulled 'em out. Clutch and I has our little games together--the
+teasy old brute--but I'm generally too much for him." After a
+little consideration Bideabout added, "It's only on the road I
+find him a little too cunnin' for me. Now he's pretendin to be
+lame, all 'long of his little love-affair with that gray hoss.
+Sometimes he lies down in the middle of the road. If I had my
+fowlin' piece I'd shoot off blank cartridge under his belly, and
+wouldn't old Clutch go up all fours into the air; but he knows well
+enough the gun is at home. Let old Clutch alone for wickedness."
+
+"Well, Mr. Kink, you haven't come here to get my assistance against
+old Clutch, have you?"
+
+"No," said Bideabout. "That's gospel. I ain't come here to
+tell about old Clutch; and it ain't against him as I want your
+assistance. It is against Iver Verstage, the painter chap at
+Guildford."
+
+"What has he been doing?"
+
+"Nuthin'! that's just it. He's made treasurer, trustee, or whatever
+you're pleased to call it, for my baby; and I want the money out."
+
+"Out of his pocket and into yours?"
+
+"Exactly. I don't see why I'm to have all the nussin' and feedin'
+ and clothin' of the young twoad, and me in difficulties for money,
+and he all the while coaxing up a hundred and fifty pounds, and
+laying of it out, and pocketin' the interest, and I who have all
+the yowls by night, and the washin' and dressin' and feedin' and
+all that, not a ha'penny the better."
+
+"How does this person you name come to be trustee for the child?"
+
+"Becos his mother made him so; and that old idjot of a Simon
+Verstage, his father, goes and makes the sum bigger by addin'
+fifty pounds to her hundred, so now there's this tidy little sum
+lies doin no good to nobody."
+
+"I cannot help you. You cannot touch the principal till the child
+is of age, and then it will go to the child, and not you."
+
+"Why! that's twenty-one years hence. That's what I call reg'lar
+foreright (awkward); and worse than foreright, it's unreasonable.
+The child is that owdacious in the cradle, I shouldn't be surprised
+when he's of age he would deny me the money."
+
+"The interest will be paid to you."
+
+"What is that--perhaps sixpence in the year. Better than nuthin',
+but I want the lot of it. Look you here, Master Barelegs, I know
+very well that I owe you money. I know very well that unless I can
+raise two hundred pounds, and that pretty smart, I shall have to
+mortgage my little bit of land to you. I don't forget that. But
+I daresay you'd rather have the money down than my poor little
+bit of lean and ribby take out o' the common. You shall have the
+money if you'll help me to get it. If I can't get that money into
+my fingers--I'm a done man. But it's not only that as troubles me.
+It is that the Rocliffes, and the Snellings, and the Boxalls, and
+Jamaica Cheel will make my life miserable. They'll mock at me, and
+I shall be to them just as ridic'lous an object as was Thomas
+Rocliffe after he'd lost his Countess. That's twenty-three years
+agone, and he can't get over it. Up comes the Countess Charlotte
+on every occasion, whenever any one gets across with him. It will
+be the same with me. I told 'em all to their faces that I had got
+them into my power, and just as the net was about to snap--then
+the breaking of the bank upset all my reckonings, and spoiled the
+little game--and what is worse, has made me their sport. But I
+won't stand no nonsense from old Clutch, nor will I from them."
+
+"I confess I do not quite understand about this money. Was it left
+by will?"
+
+"Left by will right enough," answered Bideabout. "You see the old
+woman, Sanna Verstage, had a bit of property of her own when she
+married, and then, when it came to her dyin', she set to write a
+will, and wanted to leave a hundred pounds to the little twoad.
+But she called up and consulted Simon, and he sed, 'Put on another
+fifty, Sanna, and I'll make that up. I always had a likin' for
+Matabel.' So that is how it came about as I've heard, and a
+hundred pound came out of her estate, and Simon made up the other
+fifty. And for why--but to spite me, I dun know, but they appointed
+Iver to be trustee. Now, I'm in difficulties about the land. I
+reckon when I'm dead it will go to the little chap, and go wi' all
+the goodness drained out of it--acause I have had to mortgage it.
+Whereas, if I could touch that money now, there'd be nothing of
+the kind happen."
+
+"I am very sorry for you," remarked the lawyer. "But that bequest
+is beyond your reach so long as the child lives."
+
+"What's that you say?"
+
+"I say that unless the poor little creature should die, you cannot
+finger the money."
+
+"And if it did die, would it be mine?"
+
+"Of course it would. By no other way can you get it, but, please
+Heaven, the child may grow to be a strong man and outlive you."
+
+"It's wonderful weakly," said Jonas, meditatively.
+
+"Weakly in the cradle is sturdy at the table," answered the
+solicitor, slightly altering a popular maxim.
+
+"It's that peevish and perverse--"
+
+"Then it takes after its father," laughed Mr. Barelegs. "You can't
+complain of that, Kink."
+
+The Broom-Squire took his hat and stick and rose to leave.
+
+Mr. Barelegs stayed him with a wave of the hand, and, "A word with
+you further, Mr. Kink. You gracefully likened me, just now, to
+your horse Clutch expecting his feed of oats after having served
+you well. Now I admit that, like Clutch, I have spent time and
+thought and energy in your service, and, like Clutch, I expect my
+feed of oats. I think we must have all clear and straight between
+us, and that at once. I have made out my little account with you,
+and here it is. You will remember that, acting on your instructions,
+I have advanced money in certain transactions that have broken down
+through the unfortunate turn in your affairs caused by the failure
+of the Wealden Bank. There is a matter of two hundred, and something
+you owe me for payments made and for services. I daresay you are a
+little put about now, but it will be useful to you to know all your
+liabilities so as to make provision for meeting them. I will not be
+hard on you as a client, but, of course, you do not expect me to
+make you a present of my money, and my professional service."
+
+Jonas took the account reluctantly, and his jaw fell.
+
+"I dare say," pursued the solicitor, "that among your neighbors
+you may be able to borrow sufficient. The Rocliffes, your own
+kinsmen, are, I fear, not very flush with money."
+
+"Ain't got any to bless themselves with," said Jonas.
+
+"But the Boxalls are numerous, and fairly flourishing. They have
+probably put away something, and as neighbors and friends--"
+
+"I've quarrelled with them. I can't borrow of them," growled
+Bideabout.
+
+"Then there are the Snellings--"
+
+"I've offended them as well."
+
+"But you have other friends."
+
+"I haven't one."
+
+"There is Simon Verstage, a warm man; he could help you in an
+emergency."
+
+"He's never been the same with me since I married Matabel, his
+adopted daughter. He had other ideas for her, I fancy, and he is
+short and nasty wi' me now. I can't ask him."
+
+"Have you then, really, no friends?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Then there must be some fault in you, Kink. A man who goes through
+life without making friends, and quarrels even with the horse that
+carries him, is not one who will leave a gap when he passes out of
+the world. I shall expect my money. If you see no other way of
+satisfying me, I must have a mortgage on your holding. I'll not
+press you at once--but, like Clutch, I shall want my feed of oats."
+
+"Then," said Jonas, surlily, as he turned his hat about, and
+looked down into it, "I don't see no other chance of gettin the
+money than--"
+
+"Than what?"
+
+"That's my concern," retorted the Broom-Squire. "Now I'm goin' to
+see whether old Clutch is ready--or whether he be shammin' still."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT.
+
+
+Jonas found that old Clutch was not lavishing endearments on the
+gray mare over the intervening partition of stalls, but was lying
+down on the straw. Nothing said or done would induce the horse to
+rise, and the hostler told Bideabout that he believed the beast
+was really lame. It had been overworked at its advanced age, and
+must be afforded rest.
+
+"He's a Radical," said the Broom-Squire. "You move that gray into
+another stable and Clutch will forget about his lameness, I dare
+swear. He's twenty-five and has a liquorish eye, still--it's
+shameful."
+
+Bideabout was constrained to walk from Godalming to the Punch-Bowl,
+and this did not serve to mend his humor. He reached home late at
+night, when the basin was full of darkness, and the only light
+that showed came from the chamber where Mehetabel sat with her baby.
+
+When Jonas entered, he saw by the rushlight that she was not
+undressed, and heard by her voice that she was anxious.
+
+"The baby is very unwell, Jonas," she said, and extending her hand,
+lit a tallow candle at the meagre flame of the rushlight.
+
+As the wick flared, so did something flare up in the face of the
+Broom-Squire.
+
+"Why do you look like that?" asked Mehetabel, for the look did not
+escape her.
+
+"Main't I look as I choose?" he inquired surlily.
+
+"It almost seemed as if you were glad to hear that my poor darling
+is ill," complained she.
+
+"Ain't I glad to be home after bein' abroad all day a-wackin', and
+abusin' of old Clutch, and then had to walk from Gorlmyn (Godalming),
+and the aggravation of knowin' how as the hoss be shakin' his sides
+laughin' at me for doin of it. Wot's up with the kid?"
+
+"I really cannot tell, Jonas; he's been restless and moaning all
+day. I have not been able to get him to sleep, and I am sure he
+has had one or two fits. He became white and stiff. I thought he'd
+a-died, and then my heartstrings were like breaking."
+
+"Oh, drat your heartstrings, I don't care to hear of them. So, you
+thort he was dyin'. Perhaps he may. More wun'erful things happen
+than that. It's the way of half the babies as is born."
+
+"It will kill me if mine is taken from me!" cried Mehetabel, and
+cast herself on her knees and embraced the cradle, regardless of
+the sprigs of spiked leaves she had stuck round it, and burst into
+an agony of tears.
+
+"Now look here," said Jonas; "I've been tried enough wi' old Clutch
+to-day, and I don't want to be worreted at night wi' you. Let the
+baby sleep if it is sleepin', and get me my vittles. There's others
+to attend to in the world than squawlin' brats. It's spoilin' the
+child you are. That's what is the meanin' of its goings-on. Leave
+it alone, and take no notice, and it'll find out quick enough that
+squeals don't pay. I want my supper. Go after the vittles."
+
+Mehetabel lay in her clothes that night. The child continued to be
+restless and fretted. Jonas was angry. If he was out all day he
+expected to rest well at night; and she carried the cradle in her
+arms into the spare room, where the peevishness of the child, and
+the rocking and her lullaby could not disturb her husband. As she
+bore the cradle, the sprigs of butcher's broom and withered
+chrysanthemums fell and strewed her path, leaving behind her a
+trail of dying flowers, and of piercing thorns, and berries like
+blood-drops. No word of sympathy had the Broom-Squire uttered; no
+token had he shown that he regarded her woes and was solicitous
+for the welfare of his child. Mehetabel asked for neither. She had
+learned to expect nothing from him, and she had ceased to demand
+of him what he was incapable of giving, or unwilling to show.
+
+Next morning Mehetabel was prompt to prepare breakfast for her
+husband. The day was fine, but the light streaming in through the
+window served to show how jaded she was with long watching, with
+constant attention, and with harrowing care.
+
+Always punctilious to be neat, she had smoothed her hair, tidied
+her dress, and washed the tears from her face, but she could not
+give brightness to the dulled eye or bloom to the worn cheek.
+
+For a while the child was quiet, stupefied with weariness and long
+crying. By the early light Mehetabel had studied the little face,
+hungering after tokens of recovering powers, glad that the drawn
+features were relaxed temporarily.
+
+"Where are you going to-day, Bideabout?" she asked, timidly,
+expecting a rebuff.
+
+"Why do you ask?' was his churlish answer.
+
+"Because--oh! if I might have a doctor for baby!"
+
+"A doctor!" he retorted. "Are we princes and princesses, that we
+can afford that? There's no doctor nigher than Hazelmere, and I
+ain't goin' there. I suppose cos you wos given the name of a
+Duchess of Edom, you've got these expensive ideas in your head.
+Wot's the good of doctors to babies? Babies can't say what ails
+them."
+
+"If--if--" began Mehetabel, kindly, "if I might have a doctor, and
+pay for it out of that fifteen pound that father let me have."
+
+"That fifteen pound ain't no longer yours. And this be fine game,
+throwin' money away on doctors when we're on the brink of ruin.
+Don't you know as how the bank has failed, and all my money gone?
+The fifteen pound is gone with the rest."
+
+"If you had but allowed me to keep it, it would not have been lost
+now," said Mehetabel.
+
+"I ain't goin' to have no doctors here," said Bideabout, positively,
+"but I'll tell you what I'll do, and that's about as much as can be
+expected in reason. I'm goin' to Gorlmyn to fetch old Clutch; and
+I'll see a surgeon there and tell him whatever you like--and get
+a mixture for the child. But I won't pay more than half-a-crown,
+and that's wasted. I don't believe in doctors and their paint and
+water, as they gives us."
+
+Jonas departed, and then the tired and anxious mother again turned
+to her child. The face was white spotted with crimson, the closed
+lids blue.
+
+There was no certainty when Bideabout would return, but assuredly
+not before evening, as he walked to Godalming, and if he rode home
+on the lame horse, the pace would be slower than a walk.
+
+Surely she could obtain advice and help from some of the mothers
+in the Punch-Bowl. Sally Rocliffe she would not consult. The gleam
+of kindness that had shone out of her when Mehetabel was in her
+trouble had long ago been quenched.
+
+When the babe woke she muffled it in her shawl and carried the
+mite to the cottage of the Boxalls. The woman of that family,
+dark-skinned and gypsy-like, with keen black eyes, was within, and
+received the young mother graciously. Mehetabel unfolded her
+treasure and laid it on her knees--the child was now quiet, through
+exhaustion.
+
+"I'll tell y' what I think," said Karon Boxall, "that child has
+been overlooked--ill-wished."
+
+Mehetabel opened her eyes wide with terror.
+
+"That's just about the long and short of it," continued Mrs. Boxall.
+"Do you see that little vein there, the color of 'urts. That's a
+sure sign. Some one bears the poor creature no love, and has cast
+an evil eye on it."
+
+The unhappy mother's blood ran chill. This, which to us seems
+ridiculous and empty, was a grave and terrible reality to her mind.
+
+"Who has done it?" she asked below her breath.
+
+"That's not for me to say," answered the woman. "It is some one
+who doesn't love the babe, that's sure."
+
+"A man or a woman?"
+
+Mrs. Boxall stooped over the infant.
+
+"A woman," she said, with assurance. "The dark vein be on the left
+han' side."
+
+Mehetabel's thoughts ran to Sally Rocliffe. There was no other
+woman who could have felt ill-feeling against the hapless infant,
+now on her lap.
+
+"What can I do?" she asked.
+
+"There's nothin'. Misfortune and wastin' away will be to the
+child--though they do say, if you was to take it to Thor's Stone,
+and carry it thrice round, way of the sun, you might cast off the
+ill-wish. But I can't say. I never tried it."
+
+"I cannot take it there," cried Mehetabel, despairingly, "the
+weather is too cold, baby too ill."
+
+Then clasping the child to her bosom, and swaying herself, she
+sobbed forth--
+
+  "A little fish swims in the well.
+   So in my heart does baby dwell,
+   The king has sceptre, crown and ball,
+   You are my sceptre, crown and all."
+
+She went home sobbing, and hugging her child, holding it away from
+the house of Sarah Rocliffe, lest that woman might be looking forth
+at her window, and deepen by her glance the spell that held and
+broke down her child.
+
+Towards evening fall Jonas returned.
+
+Directly he crossed the threshold, with palpitating eagerness
+Mehetabel asked--
+
+"Have you seen the doctor?"
+
+"Yes," he answered curtly.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He'd got a pass'l o' learned names of maladies--I can't recollect
+them all. Tain't like as I should."
+
+"But--did he give you any medicine?"
+
+"Yes, I had to pay for it too."
+
+"Oh, Jonas, do give it me, and tell me, are you quite sure you
+explained to him exactly what ailed baby?"
+
+"I reckon I did."
+
+"And the bottle, Jonas?"
+
+"Don't be in such a won'erful hurry. I've other things to do than
+get that put yet. How is the child?"
+
+"Rather better."
+
+"Better!" he echoed, and Mehetabel, who looked intently in his
+face, saw no sign of satisfaction, rather of disappointment.
+
+"Oh, Jonas!" she cried, "is it naught to you that baby is so ill?
+You surely don't want him to die?"
+
+He turned fiercely on her, his face hard and gray, and his teeth
+shining--
+
+"What makes you say that--you?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Jonas, only you don't seem to care a bit about baby,
+and rather to have a delight in his bein' so ill."
+
+"He's better, you say?"
+
+"Yes--I really do think it."
+
+There was an unpleasant expression in his face that frightened her.
+Was it the eye of Jonas that had blighted the child? But no--Karon
+Boxall had said that it was ill-wished by a woman. Jonas left the
+room, ascended the stairs, and strode about in the chamber overhead.
+
+Swaying in her chair, holding the infant to her heart, the sole
+heart that loved it, but loved it with a love ineffable, she heard
+her husband open the window, and then hastily shut it again. Then
+there was a pause in his movement overhead, and he came shortly
+after down the stairs. He held a phial in his hand--and without
+looking at Mehetabel, thrust it towards her, with the curt
+injunction, "Take."
+
+"Perhaps," said the young mother, "as my darling is better, I need
+not give him the medicine."
+
+"That's just like your ways," exclaimed the Broom-Squire, savagely.
+"Fust I get no rest till I promise to go to the doctor, and then
+when I've put myself about to go, and bring the bottle as has cost
+me half-a-crown, you won't have it."
+
+"Indeed--it is only----"
+
+"Oh, yes--only--to annoy me. The child is ill. I told the doctor
+all, and he said, that this would set it to rights and give it
+sleep, and rest to all of us." He was in a bad temper. Mehetabel
+did not venture to say more. She took the phial and placed it on
+the table. It was not wrapped up in paper.
+
+Then Jonas hastily went forth. He had old Clutch to attend to.
+
+Mehetabel remained alone, and looked at the medicine bottle; then
+she laid the infant on her knees and studied the little face, so
+blanched with dark rings round the eyes. The tiny hands were drawn
+up on the breast and clasped; she unfolded and kissed them.
+
+Then she looked again at the phial.
+
+There was something strange about it. The contents did not appear
+to have been well mixed, the upper portion of the fluid was dark,
+the lower portion white. How came this about? Jonas had ridden old
+Clutch home, and the movements of the horse were not smooth. The
+bottle in the pocket of Bideabout must have undergone such shaking
+as would have made the fluid contents homogeneous and of one hue.
+She held the bottle between herself and the light. There was no
+doubt about it, either the liquid separated rapidly, or had never
+been mixed.
+
+She withdrew the cork and applied the mouth of the phial to her
+nose.
+
+The scent of the medicine was familiar. It was peculiar. When had
+she smelt that odor before. Then she started. She remembered the
+little bottle containing laudanum, with the death's head on it, in
+the closet upstairs.
+
+Hastily, her heart beating with apprehension, she laid her babe in
+the cradle, and taking the light, mounted to the upper chamber. She
+possessed the key of the cabinet in the wall. She had retained it
+because afraid to give it up, and Jonas had manufactured for
+himself a fresh key.
+
+Now she unlocked the closet, and at once discovered the laudanum
+bottle.
+
+It was half empty.
+
+Some of it had been used.
+
+How had it been used? Of that she had little doubt. The dangerous,
+sleep-bringing laudanum had been put into the medicine for the
+child. It was to make room for that that Jonas had opened the
+window and poured forth some of the contents.
+
+A drop still hung on the top of the phial.
+
+She shut and relocked the cupboard, descended, with dismay, despair
+in her heart, and taking the bottle from the table, dashed it into
+the fire upon the hearth. Then she caught her babe to her, and
+through floods of tears, sobbed: "There is none love thee but
+I--but I--but only I! O, my babe, my babe! My sceptre, crown, and
+all!"
+
+In the blinding rain of tears, in the tumult of passion that
+obscured her eyes, that confused her brain, Mehetabel saw, heard
+nothing. She had but one sense--that of feeling, that thrilled
+through one fibre only attached to the helpless, suffering morsel
+in her arms--the infant she held to her breast, and which she would
+have liked to bury in her heart away from all danger, concealed
+from the malevolent eye, and the murderous hand.
+
+All the mother's nature in her was roused and flared into madness.
+She alone loved this little creature, she alone stood between it
+and destruction. She would fight for it, defend it to her last
+breath, with every weapon wherewith she was endowed by nature.
+
+After the first paroxysm of passion was passed, and a lull of
+exhaustion ensued, she looked up, and saw Bideabout enter, and
+as he entered he cast a furtive glance at the table, then at the
+child.
+
+In a moment she resolved on the course she should adopt.
+
+"Have you given the babe the draught?" he asked, with averted face.
+
+"Not all."
+
+"Of course, not all."
+
+"Will it make baby sleep?" asked Mehetabel.
+
+"O, sleep--sleep! yes--we shall have rest for one night--for many,
+I trust. O, do not doubt. It will make it sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+A MENACED LIFE.
+
+
+As soon as the Broom-Squire had gone out again to the "hog-pen," as a
+pigstye is called in Surrey, to give the pig its "randams and
+crammins," because Mehetabel was unable to do this because unable
+to leave the child, then she knelt by the hearth, put aside the
+turves, and, regardless of the fire, groped for the fragments of
+the broken phial, that nothing might betray to Bideabout her
+having rejected the medicine with which he had tampered.
+
+She cut and burnt her fingers, but in the excitement of her
+feelings, was insensible to pain.
+
+She had removed and secreted the glass before he returned. The babe
+was sleeping heavily, and snoring.
+
+When Jonas came in and heard the sound from the cradle, a look of
+expectation came over his face.
+
+"The child's burrin' like a puckeridge (night-jar)," he said.
+"Shouldn't wonder if the medicine ain't done him a lot o' good. It
+don't need a doctor to come and see to prescribe for a baby. All
+that little ones want is good sleep, and natur' does the rest."
+
+Owing to the annoyance caused to Bideabout by the child's
+fretfulness during the night, Mehetabel occupied a separate
+chamber, the spare bedroom, along with her babe, and spent her
+broken nights under the great blue and white striped tent that
+covered the bed.
+
+She had enjoyed but little sleep for several nights, and her days
+had been occupied by the necessary attention to the suffering child
+and the cares of the household. Because the babe was ill, that was
+no reason why his father's meals should be neglected, and because
+the mother was overwrought, he was not disposed to relieve her of
+the duties to the pigs and cows save on this one occasion.
+
+That the poor little infant was really more at ease was obvious to
+the mother's watchful eye and anxious heart, but whether this were
+due to its malady, whatever that was, having taken a felicitous
+turn, or to mere exhaustion of powers, she was unable to decide,
+and her fears almost overbalanced her hopes.
+
+She retired to sleep that night without much expectation of being
+able to obtain sleep. Her nerves were overstrung, and at times
+thought in her mind came to a standstill; it was as though a
+sudden hush came on all within her, so that neither did heart
+beat nor breath come. But for these pauses, her mind might have
+given way, a string have snapped, and her faculties have fallen
+into disorder.
+
+It is said of Talleyrand that he needed no sleep, as his pulse
+ceased to beat after a certain number of strokes, for a brief
+space, and then resumed pulsation. During that pause, his physical
+and mental powers had time for recuperation. Be that as it may, it
+is certain that to some persons whose minds and feelings are put
+to extraordinary tension, greatly prolonged, there do come these
+halts in which all is blank, the brain ceases to think, and the
+heart to feel, and such gaps in the sequence of thought and emotion
+have a salutary effect.
+
+Mehetabel did not undress. She had not put off her clothing for
+several nights. The night was cold, and she would probably have
+to be incessantly on the move, to meet the little sufferer's
+necessities, as they arose, and to watch it, whenever her fears
+prevailed over her hopes, and made her think that a protracted
+quiet was ominous.
+
+The only light in the room emanated from a smouldering rush,
+sustained in a tall iron holder, the lower end of which was planted
+in a block of oak, and stood on the floor. Such holders, now
+become very scarce, were furnished with snuffers, so contrived
+that the rushlight had to be taken out of its socket and snuffed
+by them, instead of their being brought to the rush.
+
+Of rushlights there were two kinds, one, the simplest, consisted
+of a dry rush dipped in a little grease. The light emitted from
+such a candle was feeble in the extreme. The second, a superior
+rushlight, had the rush pealed of its bark with the exception of
+one small strip which held the pith from breaking. This pith was
+dipped in boiling fat, and when the tallow had condensed it was
+dipped again, and the candle given as many coats as was desired.
+Such a rushlight was a far more useful candle, and if it did not
+emit as large a flame and give forth so much light as a dip which
+had a cotton wick it was sufficient to serve most purposes for
+which in a farmhouse artificial illumination was required.
+
+The first and inferior sort of rushlight was that which Matabel
+allowed herself for the sick-room.
+
+When she laid her head on the pillow and threw the patched-work
+quilt over her shoulders the cool of the pillow struck through
+her head and relieved the fire that had raged therein.
+
+She could not sleep.
+
+She thought over what had happened. She considered Bideabout's
+action as calmly as possible. Was it conceivable that he should
+seek the life of his own child? He had shown it no love, but it
+was a far cry from lack of parental affection to deliberate
+attempt at murder.
+
+What gain would there be to him in the death of his child? She
+was too innocent and simple to think of Mrs. Verstage's bequest
+as supplying the motive. As far as she could find there was nothing
+to account for Jonas' desire to hasten the child's death save
+weariness at its cries which distressed him at night, and this
+was no adequate reason. There was another, but that she put from
+her in disgust. Bad as Bideabout might be she could not credit him
+with that.
+
+What was that bottle which Jonas had been given by the doctor when
+his arm was bound up? Of laudanum she knew nothing, but remembered
+that it had been recommended as a means for giving him the rest he
+so required. It was a medicine intended to produce sleep. He had
+refused it because afraid lest he should administer to himself,
+or have administered to him, an overdose which would cause him to
+sleep too soundly, and slide away into the slumber of death.
+
+It was possible that the surgeon at Godalming knew that Jonas
+possessed this phial, and had given him the medicine for the child
+along with instructions as to how many drops of the laudanum he
+was to add to the mixture, to make it serve its proper purpose.
+
+If that were so, then the Broom-Squire had acted as directed by a
+competent person and for the good of his child, and she, his wife,
+had cruelly, wickedly, misjudged him. Gentle, generous, incapable
+of harboring an evil thought, Matabel at once and with avidity
+seized on this solution, and applied it to her heart to ease its
+pain and relieve the pressure that weighed on it.
+
+Under the lightening of her anxiety caused by this Mehetabel fell
+asleep, for how long she was unable to guess. When she awoke it was
+not that she heard the cry of her child, but that she was aware of
+a tread on the floor that made the bed vibrate.
+
+Instead of starting up, she unclosed her eyes, and saw in the
+room a figure that she at once knew was that of Jonas. He was
+barefooted, and but partially dressed. He had softly unhasped the
+door and stolen in on tip-toe. Mehetabel was surprised. It was
+not his wont to leave his bed at night, certainly not for any
+concern he felt relative to the child; yet now he was by the
+cradle, and was stooping over it with his head turned, so that
+his ear was applied in a manner that showed he was listening to
+the child's breathing. As his face was turned the feeble light of
+the smouldering rushlight was on it.
+
+Mehetabel did not stir. It was a pleasing revelation to her that
+the father's heart had warmed to his child, and that he was
+sufficiently solicitous for the feeble life to be disturbed
+thereby at night.
+
+Jonas remained listening for a minute, then he rose erect and
+retreated from the chamber on tiptoe and closed the door noiselessly
+behind him.
+
+A smile of pleasure came on Mehetabel's lips, the first that had
+creamed them for many a week, and she slipped away again into
+sleep, to be aroused after a brief period by the restlessness and
+exclamations of the child that woke with hunger.
+
+Then promptly she rose up, went to the cradle, and lifted the
+child out, coaxed it and sang to the infant as she seated herself
+on the bedside nursing it.
+
+As she swayed herself, holding the child, the door that was ajar
+opened slightly, and by the feeble light of the rush she could
+discern something without, and the flame was reflected in human
+eyes.
+
+"Is that you, Jonas?" she called.
+
+There was no reply, but she could hear soft steps withdrawing in
+the direction of his room.
+
+"He is ashamed of letting me see how anxious he is, how really
+fond of the poor pet he is in heart." As the child's hands relaxed,
+and it sobbed off to sleep, Mehetabel laid it again in the cradle.
+It was abundantly evident that the infant was getting better. In a
+couple of days, doubtless, it would be well.
+
+Glad of this, relieved of the care that had gnawed at her heart, she
+now slipped between the sheets of the bed. The babe would probably
+sleep on till dawn, and she could herself enjoy much-needed rest.
+
+Then she dreamt that she and her little one were in a fair garden
+full of flowers; the child had grown somewhat and could enjoy play.
+She thought that she was plucking violets and making a crown for
+her baby's head, and then a little staff covered with the same
+purple, fragrant flowers, to serve as sceptre, and that she
+approached her little one on her knees, and bent to it, and sang:--
+
+  "The king has sceptre, crown and ball,
+   You are my sceptre, crown, and all!"
+
+But then there fell a shadow on them, and this shadow cut off all
+light from her and from her child. She looked and saw Jonas. He
+said nothing, but stood where the sun shone and he could obscure it.
+
+She lifted her babe and moved it away from the blighting shadow
+into warmth and brightness once more. Yet was this but for a
+moment, as again the shadow of Jonas fell over them. Once more
+she moved the child, but with like result. Then with a great effort
+she rose from her knees, carrying the child to go away with it,
+far, far from Jonas--and in her effort to do so woke.
+
+She woke to see by the expiring rush-candle and the raw light of
+early dawn, that the Broom-Squire was in the room, and was stooping
+over the cradle. Still drunk with sleep, she did not stir, did not
+rally her senses at once.
+
+Then she beheld how he lifted the pillow from under the infants
+head, went down on his knees, and thrust the pillow in upon the
+child's face, holding it down resolutely with a hand on each side.
+
+With a shriek of horror, Mehetabel sprang out of bed and rushed
+at him, stayed his arms, and unable to thrust them back, caught
+the cradle and plucked it to her, and released the babe, that
+gasped--seized it in her arms, glued it to her bosom, and dashing
+past Jonas before he had risen to his feet, ran down the stairs,
+and left the house--never to enter it again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+SHUT OUT.
+
+
+A raw gray morning.
+
+Mehetabel had run forth into it with nothing over her head, no
+shawl about her shoulders, with hair tangled, and eyes dazed,
+holding her child to her heart, with full resolve never again to
+set foot across the threshold of the farmhouse of Jonas Kink.
+
+No doubt whatever remained now in her mind that the Broom-Squire
+had endeavored to compass the death of his child, first by means
+of poison, and then by suffocation.
+
+Nothing would ever induce her again to risk the precious life of
+her child at his hands. She had no thought whither she should go,
+how she should live--her sole thought was to escape from Jonas,
+and by putting a distance between herself and him, place the infant
+beyond danger.
+
+As she ran up the lane from the house she encountered Sally Rocliffe
+at the well head.
+
+"Where be you goyne to, like that; and with the child, too?" asked
+the woman.
+
+Mehetabel drew the little face of the babe to her, lest the eye of
+its aunt should light on it. She could not speak, palpitating with
+fear, as she was.
+
+"What be you runnin' out for this time o' the mornin'?" asked Mrs.
+Rocliffe again.
+
+"I cannot tell you," gasped the mother.
+
+"But I will know."
+
+"I shall never, never go back again," cried Mehetabel.
+
+"Oh! he's kicked you out, has he? That's like Jonas."
+
+"I'm runnin' away.
+
+"And where be yo goyne to?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"But I do," said Mrs. Rocliffe with a chuckle.
+
+Mehetabel gave no thought to her words. She thrust past her, and
+ran on.
+
+Fear, love, gave strength to her limbs. She had no consideration
+for herself, that she was dishevelled and incompletely clad, that
+she had eaten nothing; she sped up the side of the Common, to
+escape from the Punch-Bowl, the place where she had weltered in
+misery. There was no hope for her and her child till she had
+escaped from that.
+
+In the cold air, charged with moisture, the larks were singing.
+A ploughboy was driving his horses to the field that was to be
+turned up by the share.
+
+As she passed him he stared at her with surprise. She reached the
+village. The blacksmith was up and about; he was preparing to put
+a tire on a cart-wheel. For this purpose he had just kindled a
+fire of turf "bats," that were heaped round the fire on the ground
+outside the forge. He looked up with astonishment as Mehetabel
+sped past, and cast to her the question, "Wot's up?" which,
+however, she did not stay to answer.
+
+She made no tarry till she reached the Ship Inn. There she entered
+the porch, and would have gone through the door into the house,
+had she not been confronted by Polly, the maid, who at that moment
+was coming up the passage from the bar.
+
+Polly made no attempt to give room for Mehetabel to pass; she
+saluted her with a stare and a look at her from head to feet, full
+of insolence.
+
+"Wot do you want?" asked the girl.
+
+"I wish to see and speak to father," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"I always heard as your father lies in Thursley Churchyard,"
+answered the servant.
+
+"I mean I should like to speak with Mr. Verstage."
+
+"Oh! the landlord?"
+
+"Yes; the landlord. Where is he?"
+
+"Don' know. Somewhere about, I reckon."
+
+"It is cold, and my child is ill. I would go into the kitchen, by
+the fire."
+
+"Why don't you then go home?"
+
+"I have no home."
+
+"Oh! it's come to that, is it?"
+
+"Yes. Let me in."
+
+"No, indeed. This ain't the place for you. If you think you're
+goyne to be mistress and order about here you're mistaken. You go
+along; I'm goyne to shut the door."
+
+Mehetabel had not the spirit to resent this insolence.
+
+She turned in the porch and left the inn, that had once been her
+home, and the only home in which she had found happiness.
+
+She made her way to the fields that belonged to Simon Verstage,
+and after wandering through a ploughed glebe she found him.
+
+"Ah, Matabel!" said he, "glad to see you. What brings you here so
+early in the day?"
+
+"Dear father, I cannot tell you all, but I have left Bideabout.
+I can stay with him no longer, something has happened. Do not
+press me to tell--at least not now. I can never return to the
+Punch-Bowl. Will you take me in?"
+
+The old man mused.
+
+"I'll consult Polly. I don't know what she'll say to it. I'm rather
+dependent on her now. You see, I know nothing of the house, I
+always put that into Susanna's charge, and now poor Sanna is gone,
+Polly has taken the management. Of course, she makes mistakes, but
+wun'erfully few. In fact, it is wun'erful how she fits into Sanna's
+place, and manages the house and all--just as if she had been
+brought up to it. I'll go and ask her. I couldn't say yes without,
+much as I might wish."
+
+Mehetabel shook her head.
+
+The old man was become feeble and dependent. He had no longer a
+will of his own:
+
+"I will not trouble you, dear father, to ask Polly. I am quite
+sure what her answer will be. I must go further. Who is Guardian?"
+
+"That's Timothy Puttenham, the wheelwright."
+
+Then Mehetabel turned back in the direction of the village and
+came in front of the shop. Puttenham and his apprentice were
+engaged on the fire, and Mehetabel stood, with the babe folded
+in her arms, watching them at work. They might not be disturbed
+at the critical period when the tire was red hot and had to be
+fitted to the wheel.
+
+A circle of flame and glowing ashes and red-hot iron was on the
+ground. At a little distance lay a flat iron disc, called the
+"platform"; with a pole in the centre through which ran a spindle.
+On this metal plate lay a new cast wheel, and the wright with a
+bar screwed a nut so as to hold the cart-wheel down firmly on the
+"platform."
+
+"Now, boy, the pincers!"
+
+Then he, grasping a long pair of forceps, his apprentice with
+another, laid hold of the glowing tire, and raising it from the
+fire carried it scintillating to the wheel, lifted it over the
+spindle, and dropped it about the woodwork. Then, at once, they
+seized huge hammers and began to belabor the tire, to drive it
+on to the wheel, which smoked and flamed.
+
+"Water, boy, water!"
+
+The apprentice threw water from a pitcher over the tire throughout
+its circumference, dulling its fire, and producing clouds of steam.
+
+Mehetabel, well aware that at this juncture the wright must not be
+interfered with, drew close to the fire, and kneeling by it warmed
+herself and the sleeping child, whilst she watched the sturdy men
+whirling their hammers and beating the tire down into place around
+the wheel.
+
+At length the wright desisted. He leaned on his great hammer; and
+then Mehetabel timidly addressed him.
+
+"Please, Mr. Puttenham, are you not Guardian of the Poor?"
+
+"Certainly, Mrs. Kink."
+
+"May I be put in the Poors' House?"
+
+"You!"
+
+The wheelwright opened his eyes very wide.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Puttenham, I have no home."
+
+"Why, Matabel! What is the sense of this? Your home is in the
+Punch-Bowl."
+
+"I have left it."
+
+"Then you must return to it again."
+
+"I cannot. Take me into the Poors' House."
+
+"My good girl, this is rank nonsense. The Poor House is not for
+you, or such as you."
+
+"I need its shelter more than most. I have no home."
+
+"Are you gone off your head?"
+
+"No, sir. My mind is sound, but to the Punch-Bowl I cannot, and
+will not, return. No, never!"
+
+"Matabel," said the wheelwright, "I suppose you and Jonas have had
+a quarrel. Bless you! Such things happen in married life, over and
+over again, and you'll come together and love each other all the
+better for these tiffs. I know it by experience."
+
+"I cannot go back! I will not go back!"
+
+"It is not cannot or will not--it is a case of must. That is your
+home. But this I will do for you. Go in and ask my old woman to
+let you have some breakfast, and I'll send Jack"--he signed to his
+apprentice--"and bid him tell Bideabout where you are, and let
+him fetch you. We mustn't have a scandal."
+
+"If Jonas comes, I shall run away."
+
+"Whither?"
+
+That Mehetabel could not say.
+
+"Where can you go? Nowhere, save to your husband's house. For
+God's sake!" he suddenly exclaimed, knocking his hammer on the
+tire, "don't say you are going to Guildford--to Iver Verstage."
+
+Mehetabel raised her heavy eyes, and looked the wheelwright
+frankly in the face. "I would rather throw myself and baby into
+one of the Hammer Ponds than do that."
+
+"Right! You're a good gal. But there was no knowing. Folks talk.
+Come in! You shall have something--and rest a while."
+
+The kind, well-intentioned man laid his large hand on her shoulder
+and almost forced her, but gently, towards the house. She would
+not enter the door till he had promised not to send for Jonas.
+
+Selena Puttenham, the wright's wife, was a loquacious and inquisitive
+woman, and she allowed Mehetabel no rest. She gave her bread and
+milk with readiness, and probed her with questions which Mehetabel
+could not answer without relating the whole horrible truth, and
+this she was resolved not to do.
+
+The wright was busy, and could not remain in his cottage. The wife,
+with the kindest intentions, was unable to restrain herself from
+putting her guest on the rack. The condition of Mehetabel was one
+to rouse curiosity. Why was she there, with her baby, in the early
+morning? Without having even covered her head; fasted and jaded?
+Had there been a quarrel. If so--about what? Had Bideabout beaten
+her? Had he thrust her out and locked the door? If so, in what had
+she offended him? Had she been guilty of some grievous misdemeanor?
+
+At length, unable further to endure the torture to which she was
+subjected, Mehetabel sprang up, and insisted on leaving the cottage.
+
+Without answering Mrs. Puttenham's question as to whither she was
+going, what were her intentions, the unhappy girl hastened out of
+the village clasping in her arms the child, which had begun to sob.
+
+And now she made her way towards Witley, of which Thursley was a
+daughter parish. She would find the Vicar, who had always treated
+her with consideration, and even affection. The distance was
+considerable, in her weary condition, but she plodded on in hopes.
+He was a man of position and authority, and she could trust him to
+protect her and the child. To him she would tell all, in confidence
+that he would not betray her secret.
+
+At length, so fagged that she could hardly walk, her arms cramped
+and aching, her nerves thrilling, because the child was crying,
+and would not be comforted, she reached the Vicarage, and rang at
+the back door bell. Some time elapsed before the door was opened;
+and then the babe was screaming so vociferously, and struggling in
+her arms with such energy, that she was not able to make herself
+heard when she asked for the Parson.
+
+The woman who had answered the summons was a stranger, consequently
+did not know Mehetabel. She made signs to her to go away.
+
+The cries of the child became more violent, and the mother's
+efforts were directed towards pacifying it. "Let me come in, I
+pray! I pray!" she asked with a brow, in spite of the cold, bathed
+in perspiration.
+
+"I cannot! I must not!" answered the woman. She caught her by the
+arm, drew her aside, and said--"Do you not know? Look! the blinds
+are all down. He died in the night!"
+
+"Dead!" cried Mehetabel, reeling back. "My God! whither shall I go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+AT THE SILK MILL.
+
+
+Mehetabel sank on the grass by the drive.
+
+"I am worn out. I can go no further," she said, and bowed her head
+over the child.
+
+"You cannot remain here. It is not seemly--a house of mourning,"
+said the woman.
+
+"He would not mind, were he alive," sobbed Mehetabel. "He would
+have cared for me and my babe; he was always kind."
+
+"But he is not alive; that makes the difference," said the servant.
+"You really must still the child or go away."
+
+"I cannot go another step," answered Mehetabel, raising her head
+and sinking it again, after she had spoken.
+
+"I don't know what to do. This is unreasonable; I'll go call the
+gardener. If you won't go when asked you must be removed by force."
+
+The woman retired, and presently the gardener came up. He knew
+Mehetabel--that is to say, knew who she was.
+
+"Come," said he, "my cottage is just yonder. You must not remain
+here on the green, and in the cold. No wonder the child screams.
+There is a fire in my house, and you can have what you like for a
+while, till you are rested. Give me your hand."
+
+Mehetabel allowed him to raise her, and she followed him mechanically
+from the drive into the cottage, that was warm and pleasant.
+
+"There now, missus," said the man; "make yourself comfortable for
+an hour or two."
+
+The rest, the warmth, were grateful to Mehetabel. She was almost
+too weary to thank the man with words, but she looked at him with
+gratitude, and he felt that her heart was over full for her to
+speak. He returned to his work, and left her to herself. There was
+no one else in the cottage, as he was a widower, and had no family.
+
+After a considerable time, when Mehetabel had had time to recruit
+her strength, he reappeared. The short winter day was already
+closing in. The cold black vapors rose over the sky, obscuring the
+little light, as though grudging the earth its brief period of
+illumination.
+
+"I thought I'd best come, you know," said the man, "just to tell
+you that I'm sorry, but I can't receive you here for the night.
+I'm a widower, and folk might talk. Why are you from home?"
+
+"I ran away. I cannot return to the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"Well, now. That's curious!" said the gardener. "Time out of mind
+I've had it in my head to run away when my old woman was rampageous.
+I've knowed a man who actually did run to Americay becos his wife
+laid on him so. But I never, in my experience, heard of a woman
+runnin' away from her husband, that is to say--alone. You ain't
+got no one with you, now?"
+
+"Yes, my baby."
+
+"I don't mean that. Well, it is coorious, a woman runnin' away
+with her baby. I'm terrible sorry, but I can't take you in above
+another half-hour. Where are you thinking of goyne to?"
+
+"I know of no where and no one."
+
+"Why not try Missus Chivers at Thursley. You was at her school, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Yes, I was there."
+
+"Try her, and all will come right in the end."
+
+Mehetabel rose; her child was now asleep.
+
+"Look here," said the gardener. "Here's a nice plaid shawl, as
+belonged to my missus, and a wun'erful old bonnet of hers--as the
+cat has had kittens in since she went to her rest--and left me to
+mine. You are heartily welcome. I can't let you turn out in the
+cold with nothing on your head nor over your shoulders."
+
+Mehetabel gladly accepted the articles of clothing offered her.
+She had already eaten of what the man had placed on the table for
+her, when he left the house. She could not burden him longer with
+her presence, as he was obviously nervous about his character,
+lest it should suffer should he harbor her. Thanking him, she
+departed, and walked back to Thursley through the gathering gloom.
+
+Betty Chivers kept a dame's school, in which she had instructed
+the children of Thursley in the alphabet, simple summing, and in
+the knowledge and fear of God. With the march of the times we have
+abolished dames schools, and cut away thereby a means of livelihood
+from many a worthy woman; but what is worse, have driven the little
+ones into board schools, that are godless, where they are taught
+to despise manual labor, and to grow up without moral principle.
+Our schools are like dockyards, whence expensively-equipped vessels
+are launched provided with everything except ballast, which will
+prevent their capsizing in the first squall. The Vicar of Witley
+had been one of those men, in advance of his time, who had initiated
+this system.
+
+Whatever of knowledge of good, and of discipline of conscience
+Mehetabel possessed, was obtained from Mrs. Susanna Verstage, or
+from old Betty Chivers.
+
+We are told that if we cast our bread on the waters, we shall find
+it after many days. But simple souls are too humble to recognize
+it.
+
+So was it with Goodie Chivers.
+
+That Mehetabel, through all her trials, acted as a woman of
+principle, clung to what she knew to be right, was due very largely
+to the old dame's instructions, but Betty was too lowly-minded for
+one instant to allow this, even to suspect it.
+
+Our Board School masters and mistresses have quite as little
+suspicion that they have sowed the seed which sprung up in the
+youths who are dismissed from offices for defalcation, and the
+girls who leave menial service to walk the streets.
+
+Mrs. Chivers was glad to see Mehetabel when she entered. She had
+heard talk about her--that she had run away from her husband, and
+was wandering through the country with her babe; and having a
+tender heart, and a care for all her old pupils, she had felt
+anxious concerning her.
+
+Mehetabel pleaded to be taken in for the night, and to this Mrs.
+Chivers readily consented. She would share her bed with the mother
+and the child, as well as her crust of bread and cup of thin tea.
+Of milk, in her poverty, the old woman allowed herself but a few
+drops, and of butter with her bread none at all.
+
+Yet what she had, that she cheerfully divided with Mehetabel.
+
+On the morrow, after a restful sleep, the young wife started for a
+silk mill on one of those Hammer ponds that occupied a depression
+in the Common. These ponds were formed at the time when iron was
+worked in the district, and the ponds, as their name implies, were
+for the storage of water to beat out the iron by means of large
+hammers, set in motion by a wheel. When these ponds were constructed
+is not known. The trees growing on the embankments that hold back
+the water are of great size and advanced age.
+
+One of these ponds, at the time of our tale, was utilized for a
+silk mill.
+
+On reaching the silk mill, she timidly asked for the manufacturer.
+She knew him slightly, as he had been occasionally to the "Ship,"
+where he had lodged a guest at one time when his house was full,
+and at another to call on a fisherman who was an acquaintance, and
+who was staying there. He was a blunt man, with a very round head
+and a very flat face. His name was Lilliwhite. He had exchanged
+words with Mehetabel when she was at the inn, and had always been
+kindly in his address.
+
+When she was shown into his office, as ill-luck would have it at
+once the child became fretful and cried.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Mehetabel. "I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I wish you would be so good, sir, as to let me do some work
+for you in the mill."
+
+"You, Mehetabel! Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"Please, sir, I have left the Punch-Bowl. I cannot stay there any
+longer. Do not ask me the reasons. They are good ones, but I had
+rather not tell them. I must now earn my own livelihood, and--"
+She was unable to proceed owing to the wailing of the infant.
+
+"Look here, my dear," said the silk weaver, "I cannot hear you on
+account of the noise, and as I have something to attend to, I will
+leave you here alone for a few minutes, whilst I look to my
+business. I will return shortly, when the young dragon has ceased
+rampaging. I dare say it is hungry."
+
+Then the good-natured man departed, and Mehetabel used her best
+endeavors to reduce her child to quiet. It was not hungry, it was
+not cold. It was in pain. She could feed it, she could warm it, but
+she knew not how to give it that repose which it so much needed.
+
+After some minutes had elapsed, Mr. Lilliwhite looked in again,
+but as the child was still far from pacified, he retired once more.
+
+Twenty minutes to half-an-hour had passed before the feeble wails
+of the infant had decreased in force, and had died away wholly,
+and then the manufacturer returned, smiling, to his office.
+
+"'Pon my soul," said he, "I believe this is the first time my
+shop has been turned into a nursery. Come now, before the Dragon
+of Wantley is awake and roaring, tell me what you want."
+
+Mehetabel repeated her request.
+
+"There is no one I would more willingly oblige," said he. "You
+have ever conducted yourself well, and have been industrious. But
+there are difficulties in the way. First and foremost, the Dragon
+of Wantley."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir."
+
+"I mean the child. What will you do with it? If you come here,
+engaged by me, you must be at the mill at seven o'clock in the
+morning. There is an hour for dinner at noon, and the mill hands
+are released at five o'clock in the afternoon in winter and six in
+summer. What will the Dragon do all the time its mother is spinning
+silk? You cannot have the creature here--and away, who will care
+for it? Who feed it?"
+
+"I had thought of leaving my baby at Mrs. Chivers'."
+
+"That is nonsense," said the silk weaver. "The Dragon won't be
+spoon-fed. Its life depends on its getting its proper, natural
+nourishment. So that won't do. As for having it here--that's an
+impossibility. Much you would attend to the spindles when the
+Dragon was bellowing. Besides, it would distract the other girls.
+So you see, this won't do. And there are other reasons. I couldn't
+receive you without your husband's consent. But the Dragon remains
+as the insuperable difficulty. Fiddle-de-dee, Matabel! Don't think
+of it. For your own sake, for the Dragon's sake, I say it won't do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+BY THE HAMMER POND.
+
+
+Discouraged at her lack of success, Mehetabel now turned her steps
+towards Thursley. She was sick at heart. It seemed to her as if
+every door of escape from her wretched condition was shut against
+her.
+
+She ascended the dip in the Common through which the stream ran
+that fed the Hammer ponds, and after leaving the sheet of water
+that supplied the silk mill, reached a brake of willow and bramble,
+through which the stream made its way from the upper pond.
+
+The soil was resolved into mud, and oozed with springs; at the
+sides broke out veins of red chalybeate water, of the color of
+brick.
+
+She started teal, that went away with a rush and frightened her
+child, which cried out, and fell into sobs.
+
+Then before her rose a huge embankment; with a sluice at the top
+over which the pond decanted and the overflow was carried a little
+way through a culvert, beneath a mound on which once had stood the
+smelting furnace, and which now dribbled forth rust-stained springs.
+
+The bank had to be surmounted, and in Mehetabel's condition it
+taxed her powers, and when she reached the top she sank out of
+breath on a fallen bole of a tree. Here she rested, with the child
+in her lap, and her head in her hand. Whither should she go? To
+whom betake herself? She had not a friend in the world save Iver,
+and it was not possible for her to appeal to him.
+
+Now, in her desolation, she understood what it was to be without a
+relative. Every one else had some one tied by blood to whom to
+apply, who would counsel, assist, afford a refuge. A nameless girl,
+brought up by the parish, with--as far as she was aware--but one
+relative in the world, her mother's sister, whose name she knew
+not, and whose existence she could not be sure of--she was indeed
+alone as no other could be.
+
+The lake lay before her steely and cold.
+
+The chill wind hissed and sobbed among the bulrushes, and in the
+coarse marsh grass that fringed the water on all sides except that
+of the dam.
+
+The stunted willows shed their broad-shaped leaves that sailed and
+drifted, formed fleets, and clustered together against the bank.
+
+The tree bole on which she was seated was rotting away; a huge
+fleshy fungus had formed on it, and the decaying timber emitted a
+charnel-house smell.
+
+Now the babe in Mehetabel's arms was quiet. It was asleep. She
+herself was weary, and quivering in all her limbs, hot and yet
+cold, with an aguish feeling. Her strength of purpose was failing
+her. She was verging on despair.
+
+She could not remain with Betty Chivers without paying for her
+lodging and for her food. The woman did but just maintain herself
+out of the little school and the post-office. She was generous and
+kind, but she had not the means to support Mehetabel, nor could
+Mehetabel ask it of her.
+
+What should she do? What the silk manufacturer had said was quite
+true. The babe stood in her way of getting employment, and the
+babe she must not leave. That little life depended on her, and
+her time, care, thought must be devoted to it.
+
+Oh, if now she could but have had that fifteen pounds which Simon
+Verstage in his providence had given her on her wedding day! With
+that she would have been easy, independent.
+
+When Jonas robbed her of the sum he cut away from her the chance
+of subsistence elsewhere save in his house--at all events at such
+a time as this.
+
+She looked dreamily at the water, that like an eye exercised a
+fascination on her.
+
+Would it not be well to cast herself into this pool, with her
+babe, and then both would be together at rest, and away from the
+cruel world that wanted them not, that rejected them, that had
+no love, no pity for them?
+
+But she put the thought resolutely from her.
+
+Presently she noticed the flat-bottomed boat usually kept on the
+pond for the convenience of fishers; it was being propelled over
+the stream in her direction. A minute later, a man seated in the
+boat ran it against the bank and stepped out, fastened the point
+to a willow stump, and came towards her.
+
+"What--is this the Squiress?"
+
+She looked up and recognized him.
+
+The man who came to her and addressed her was Mr. Markham, the
+young barrister, who had been to the Punch-Bowl to obtain the
+assistance of Jonas in wild-duck shooting.
+
+She recalled his offensively familiar manner, and was troubled to
+see him again. And yet she remembered his last remark on leaving,
+when he had offered his services to help her to free herself from
+her bondage to Jonas. The words might have been spoken in jest,
+yet now, she caught at them.
+
+He stood looking at her, and he saw both how pale she was, with a
+hectic flame in her cheek, and a feverish glitter in her eye, and
+also how beautiful she thus was.
+
+"Why," said he, "what brings you here?"
+
+"I have been to the silk mill in quest of work."
+
+"Work! Broom-Squiress, one such as you should not work. You missed
+your vocation altogether when you left the Ship. Jonas told me you
+had been there."
+
+"I was happy then."
+
+"But are you not so in the Punch-Bowl?"
+
+"No. I am very miserable. But I will not return there again."
+
+"What! fallen out with the Squire?"
+
+"He has made it impossible for me to go back."
+
+"Then whither are you bound?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+He looked at her intently.
+
+"Now, see here," said he. "Sit down on that log again from which
+you have risen and tell me all. I am a lawyer and can help you, I
+daresay."
+
+"I have not much to tell," she answered, and sank on the tree bole.
+He seated himself beside her.
+
+"There are things that have happened which have made me resolve to
+go anywhere, do anything, rather than return to Jonas. I promised
+what I could not keep when I said I would love, honor, and obey him."
+
+Then she began to sob. It touched her that this young man should
+express sympathy, offer his help.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Mr. Markham; "I am a barrister. I know the
+law, I have it at my ringers' ends, and I place myself, my knowledge
+and my abilities at your disposal. I shall feel proud, flattered to
+do so. Your beauty and your distress appeal to me irresistibly.
+Has the Squire been beating you?"
+
+"Oh, no, not that."
+
+"Then what has he done?"
+
+"There are things worse to bear than a stick."
+
+"What! Oh, the gay Lothario! He has been casting his eye about and
+has lost his leathery heart to some less well-favored wench than
+yourself."
+
+Mehetabel moved further from him on the tree-bole.
+
+He began picking at the great lichen that grew out of the decaying
+tree, and laughed.
+
+"Have I hit it? Jealous, eh? Jealousy is at the bottom of it all.
+By Jove, the Broom-Squire isn't worth expending a jealous thought
+on. He's a poor sordid creature. Not worthy of you. So jealous, my
+little woman, eh?"
+
+Mehetabel turned and looked steadily at him.
+
+"You do not understand me," she said. "No Jonas has not sunk so
+low as that."
+
+"He would have been a fool to have cast aside a jewel for the sake
+of quartz crystal," laughed Markham. "But, come. A lawyer is a
+confessor. Tell me everything. Make no reservations. Open your
+heart to me, and see if the law, or myself--between us we cannot
+assist you."
+
+Mehetabel hesitated. The manner in which the man offered his
+services was offensive, and yet in her innocent mind she thought
+that perhaps the fault lay in herself in not understanding and
+receiving his address in the way in which it was intended. Besides,
+in what other manner could she obtain relief? Every other means was
+taken from her.
+
+Slowly, reluctantly, she told him much that she had not told to any
+one else--only not that Jonas had endeavored to kill the child.
+That she would not relate.
+
+When she had finished her tale, he said, "What you have told me is
+a very sad story, and makes my heart ache for you. You can rely on
+me, I will be your friend and protector. We have had a case on
+lately, of a woman who was equally unhappy in her married life; her
+name was Jane Summers. You may have seen it in the papers."
+
+"I'll never see the papers. How did Jane Summers manage?"
+
+"She had a crabbed, ill-conditioned husband, and she was a fine,
+handsome, lusty woman. He fell ill, and she did not afford him all
+that care and attention which was requisite in his condition. She
+went out amusing herself, and left him at home with no one to see
+to his necessities. The consequence was that he died, and she was
+tried for it, but the case against her broke down. It could not be
+proved that had she been devoted to him in his sickness he would
+have recovered. The law takes cognizance of commission of a crime,
+and not of neglect of duty."
+
+Mehetabel opened her eyes. "If Jonas were ill I would attend him
+day and night," she said. "But he is not ill--never was, till the
+shot entered his arm, and then I was with him all day and all
+night."
+
+"How did he receive your ministry?"
+
+"He was very irritable. I suppose the pain made him so."
+
+"You got no thanks for your trouble?"
+
+"None at all. I thought he would have been kinder when he recovered."
+
+"Then," said the young man, laughing; "the man is not to be cured.
+You must leave him."
+
+"I have done so."
+
+"And you are seeking a home and a protector?"
+
+"I want to earn my living somewhere."
+
+"A pretty young thing like you," said the stranger, "cannot fail
+to make her way. Come! I have offered you my aid," he put his arm
+round her and attempted to snatch a kiss.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Mehetabel, starting to her feet. "This is the
+friend and protector you would be! I trusted you with my troubles,
+and you have taken advantage of my trust. Let me alone! Wherever
+I turn there hell hath opened her mouth! A moment ago I thought of
+ending all my troubles in this pond--that a thousand times before
+trusting you further."
+
+With beating heart--beating with anger--proudly raising her weary
+head, she walked away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+WANDERERS.
+
+
+It occurred to Mehetabel that the rector of Milford had been over
+at Thursley several times to do duty when the vicar of Witley was
+ill, and she thought that perhaps she might obtain advice from him.
+
+Accordingly she turned in the direction of that village as soon as
+she had reached the road. She walked wearily along till she arrived
+in this, the adjoining parish, separated from Thursley by a tract
+of healthy common. At her request, she was shown into the library,
+and she told the parson of her trouble.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, and read her a lecture on the duties of
+wife to husband; and, taking his Bible, provided her with texts to
+corroborate what he said.
+
+"Please, sir," she said, "I was married when I did not wish it,
+and when I did not know what I could do, and what was impossible.
+As the Church married me, can it not undo the marriage, and set me
+free again?"
+
+"Certainly not. What has been joined together cannot be put
+asunder. It is not impossible to obtain a separation, legally, but
+you will have to go before lawyers for that."
+
+Mehetabel flushed. "I will have nothing to do with lawyers," she
+said hastily.
+
+"You would be required to show good cause why you desire a
+separation, and then it would be expensive. Have you money?"
+
+"Not a penny."
+
+"The law in England--everywhere--is only for the rich."
+
+"Then is there nothing you can advise?"
+
+"Only that you should go home again, and bear what you have to
+bear as a cross laid on you."
+
+"I will never go back."
+
+"It is your duty to do so."
+
+"I cannot, and will not."
+
+"Then, Mrs. Kink, I am afraid the blame of this domestic broil
+lies on your shoulders quite as much as on those of your husband.
+Woman is the weaker vessel. Her duty is to endure."
+
+"And a separation--"
+
+"That is legal only, and unless you can show very good cause why
+it should be granted, it may be refused. Has your husband beaten
+you?"
+
+"No, but he has spoken to me--"
+
+"Words break no bones. I don't think words would be considered. I
+can't say; I'm no lawyer. But remember--even if separated by law,
+in the sight of God you would still be one."
+
+Mehetabel left, little cheered.
+
+As she walked slowly back along the high-road, she was caught up
+by Betsy Cheel.
+
+"Halloo!" said this woman; "where have you been?"
+
+Mehetabel told her.
+
+"Want to be separated from Jonas, do you? I'm not surprised. I
+always thought him a bad fellow, but I doubt if he's worse than my
+man, Jamaica."
+
+After a while she said: "We'll walk together. Then we can chat.
+It's dull going over the Common alone. I've been selling eggs in
+Milford. They're won'erful dear now; nine a shillin'; but the hens
+feel the cold, and don't lay this time of the year much. How's
+the child? You didn't ort to be carryin' it about in this weather
+and at this time o' the year."
+
+"I have nowhere that I can leave it, and its only home is against
+my heart, in my arms."
+
+"You've run away?"
+
+"Yes; I shall not go back to Jonas."
+
+"I don't call that sense," said Bessy. "If you run away, run away
+with some one who'll take care of you. That's what I did. My first
+husband--well, I don't know as he was a proper husband. He called
+me names, and took the stick to me when drunk; so I went off with
+Jamaica. That I call reasonable. Ain't you got no one to run away
+with?"
+
+Mehetabel did not answer. She hastened her pace--she did not
+relish association with the woman. "I'd have run away from Jamaica
+scores o' times," continued Mrs. Cheel, "only I ain't so young as
+I once as, and so the opportunities don't come. There's the pity. I
+didn't start and leave him when I was good-looking and fresh. I
+might have done better then. If you think a bad, cross-crabbed man
+will mend as he grows older, you make a mistake. They grow wusser.
+So you're right to leave Jonas. Only you've gone about in the wrong
+way. There's Iver Verstage. I've heard talk about him and you. He
+don't live such a terrible distance off. I hear he's doin' purty
+well for himself at Guildford. Why don't you go to him? He's more
+suitable in age, and he's a nice-lookin' young fellow."
+
+"Mrs. Cheel," said Mehetabel, standing still, "will you go forward
+a little faster? I cannot walk with you. I do not ask you for any
+advice. I do not want to hear what you have to say. I have been to
+the parson. It seems to me that I can get no help from heaven, but
+that hell is holding out hands on all sides, offering assistance.
+Go on your way. I shall sit here for half an hour. I am too weary
+to walk at your pace."
+
+"As you will," said Bessy Cheel. "I spoke out of good will,
+and told what would be the best for you. If you won't take my
+opinion--that's no odds to me, and it may turn out wuss for you."
+
+Mehetabel drew aside, to a nodule of ironstone rock that capped the
+first elevation of the Common, the first stage of the terraces
+that rise to Hind Head.
+
+Here she remained till all chance of association with Mrs. Cheel
+was over. Then she went on to Thursley village, to find the Widow
+Chivers in great excitement. Jonas Kink had been in the village
+inquiring for his wife and child; and had learned that both had
+been given shelter by the dame.
+
+He had come to the school, and had demanded his wife and his little
+son. Betty had taken charge of the infant and laid it to sleep in
+her own bed and happily at this time it was asleep. When she told
+Bideabout that Mehetabel had left the house in quest of work, he
+had happily concluded that she had carried the child with her, and
+had asked no further questions; but he had been violent and
+menacing. He had threatened to fetch the constable and recover his
+child, even if he let the mother go where she liked.
+
+Mehetabel was greatly alarmed.
+
+"I cannot stay here," she said, "in no case will I give up the babe.
+When Iver Verstage baptized me it was lest I should become a
+wanderer. I suppose the christening was a poor one--for my
+wandering is begun, and it is not I only who am condemned to
+wander, but my little child also."
+
+With a heavy heart she left the dame's school. Had she been alone
+she would have run to Godalming or Hazelmere, and sought a situation
+as a domestic servant, but that was not possible to her now,
+cumbered with the child.
+
+Watching her opportunity, that none of the villagers might observe
+her leaving the school and note the direction she took, she ran out
+upon the heath, and turned away from the high-road.
+
+On all sides, as already intimated at the opening of this tale, the
+sandy commons near Thursley are furrowed as though a giant plough
+had been drawn along them, but at so remote a period that since the
+soil was turned the heather had been able to cast its deep brown
+mantle of velvet pile over every irregularity, and to veil the scars
+made in the surface.
+
+These gullies or furrows vary in depth from ten to forty feet, and
+run to various lengths. They were the subaerial excavations and
+open adits made by miners in quest of iron ore. They are probably
+of all dates from prehistoric antiquity to the reign of the Tudors,
+after which the iron smelting of the weald came to an end. The
+magnificent oaks of the forest of Anderida that stretched from
+Winchelsea, in Kent, a hundred and twenty miles west, with a breadth
+of thirty miles between the northern and southern chalk downs--these
+oaks had been hewn down and used as fuel, in the fabrication of
+military armor and weapons, and just as the wood was exhausted,
+coal was discovered in the north, and the entire industry of iron
+in the weald came to an end.
+
+Mehetabel had often run up these gullies when a child, playing on
+the commons with Iver, or with other scholars of Dame Chivers
+school.
+
+She remembered now that in one of these she and Iver had discovered
+a cave, scooped out in the sandrock, possibly the beginning of an
+adit, probably a place for storing smuggled goods. On a very small
+scale it resembled the extraordinary labyrinth of subterranean
+passages at Puttenham, that may be explored at the present day.
+During the preceding century and the beginning of that in which we
+live, an extensive business in smuggled spirits, tea, and tobacco
+was carried on from the coast to the Thames; and there were certain
+store places, well-known to the smugglers in the line of trade. In
+Thursley parish is a farm that is built over vast vaults, carefully
+constructed, with the entrance of them artfully disguised. The
+Puttenham labyrinth has its openings in a dense coppice; and it had
+this advantage, that with a few strokes of the pick a passage could
+be blocked with sand from the roof.
+
+The cave that Mehetabel had discovered, and in which she had spent
+many a summer hour, opened out of the side of one of the most
+profound of the trenches cut in the surface after ore. The entrance
+was beneath a projecting slab of ironstone, and was concealed by
+bushes of furze and bramble. It did not penetrate beyond thirty
+feet into the sand rock, or if it had done so formerly, it was
+choked when known to Mehetabel, with the falling in of the roof.
+These sandstone caves are very dry, and the temperature within
+agreeable.
+
+Here Mehetabel resolved to bide for a while, till she had found
+some place of greater security for herself and the child.
+
+She did not leave Mrs. Chivers without having arranged with her for
+the conveyance of food to a place agreed on between them.
+
+With the shawl so kindly given her by the gardener, Mehetabel
+could exclude all wintry air from her habitation, and abundance of
+fuel was at hand in the gully, so that she could make and maintain
+a fire that would be unnoticed, because invisible except to such as
+happened to enter the ravine.
+
+Mehetabel left the village and emerged on the path bearing that
+precious but woeful burden, her little babe, in her arms folded
+about it. Then, all at once, before her she saw that same young
+lawyer who had insulted her at the Hammer Pond. He recognized her
+at once, as she did him. She drew back and her heart beat furiously.
+
+"What, Queen of the heath?" said he, "still about with your baby?"
+
+She would not answer him. She stepped back.
+
+"Do not be afraid; I wish you well--you and your little one. Come,
+for the sake of that mite, accept my offer. What will you say to
+yourself--how excuse yourself if it die through exposure, and
+because of your silly scruples?"
+
+She would not listen to him. She darted past, and fled over the
+down.
+
+She roamed about, lost, distracted. In her confusion she missed
+the way to the cave, and the darkness was gathering. The moaning
+little morsel of her flesh could not be comforted. She rocked it
+violently, then gently. In neither way could she give it relief.
+She knew not which direction she had taken, on what part of the
+heath she was straying.
+
+And now rain began to fall, and Mehetabel had to protect her child
+from being drenched. For herself she had no thought. The rain came
+down first in a slight sprinkle, and then in large drops, and a cold
+wind swashed the drops into her face, blinding her.
+
+All at once, in the uncertain light, she saw some dark gap open
+before her as a grave. She would have fallen headlong into it had
+she not arrested her foot in time. Then, with a gasp of relief she
+recognized where she was.
+
+She stood at the edge of the old mining ravine. This trench, cut in
+the sandy down, had looked like a little bit of Paradise to the
+child-eyes of the pupils of Betty Chivers in summer, when the air
+was honey-sweet with the fragrance of the flowering furze, and
+musical with the humming of bees; and the earth was clotted with
+spilt raspberry cream--the many-tinged blossom of the heather--alas!
+it was now sad, colorless, dripping, cold, and repellent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+THE CAVE.
+
+
+Mehetabel made her way down the steep side of the gully, and to the
+cave, burdened with the babe she carried in her arms. She bore a
+sack over her back that contained some dry turves, shavings, and a
+few potatoes, given her by the school-dame. The place of refuge had
+obviously been frequented by children long after the time when
+Mehetabel and Iver had retired to it on hot summer days. The sides
+of the entrance had been built up with stones, with moss driven
+into their interstices. Within, the floor was littered with dry
+fern, and in one place was a rude hearth, where fires had been
+kindled; this was immediately under a vertical opening that served
+as chimney, and prevented the smoke of a fire from filling the cave.
+
+The young mother laid her child on the shawl she spread over the
+bracken, and proceeded to kindle a fire with a tinder-box lent her
+by Mrs. Chivers. It amused the babe to watch the sparks as they
+flew about, and when the pile of turves and sticks and heather was
+in combustion, to listen to the crackle, and watch the play and
+leap of the flames.
+
+As the fire burnt up, and the blue smoke stole through the natural
+chimney, the whole cave glowed orange.
+
+The air was not cold within, and in the radiation from the fire,
+the place promised to be warm and comfortable.
+
+The child crowed and stretched its feet out to the blaze.
+
+She looked attentively at the babe.
+
+What did that wicked young lawyer mean by saying that it would die
+through exposure? It had cried and moaned. All children cry and
+moan. They have no other means of making their wants known. Wet the
+little creature was not; she had taken every precaution against
+that, but her own garments steamed in the heat of the fire she had
+kindled, and leaving the babe to watch the dancing flames, she
+dried her wet gown and stockings in the glow.
+
+Then by the reflection Mehetabel could see on the nether surface of
+the sandstone slab at the entrance the initials of herself and Iver
+that had been cut by the latter many years ago, with a true-lover's
+knot uniting them. And there on that knot, lost in dream, was a
+peacock butterfly that had retired to hibernate. The light from the
+fire glowed in its purple and gold eyes, and the warm ascending air
+fluttered the wings, but did not restore animation to the drowsy
+insect. In corners were snails at the limit of their glazed tracks,
+also in retreat before winter. They had sealed themselves up in
+their houses against cold.
+
+Mehetabel was constrained to pass in and out of her habitation
+repeatedly so as to accumulate fuel that might serve through the
+night. Happily, on her way she had noticed a little shelter hut,
+probably constructed by a village sportsman, under which he might
+conceal himself with his gun and await the game. This was made of
+dry heather, and branches of fir and chestnut. She had no scruple
+in pulling this to pieces, and conveying as much as she could carry
+at a time to her cave.
+
+The child, amused by the fire, did not object to her temporary
+desertion, and it was too feeble and young to crawl near to the
+flames.
+
+After several journeys to and fro Mehetabel had contrived to form a
+goodly pile of dry fuel at the back of her habitation, and now that
+a sufficiency of ash had been formed proceeded to embed in it the
+potatoes that Betty Chivers had given her.
+
+How often had she and Iver, as children, talked of being savages
+and living in wigwams and caves, and now she was driven to a life
+of savagery in the midst of civilization. It would not, however,
+be for long. She would search the neighborhood round for work, and
+when she had got it move away from this den in the Common.
+
+A stoat ran in, raised its head, looked at the fire, then at her,
+with glistening eyes devoid of fear, but at a movement of the
+child darted away and disappeared.
+
+A Sabbath sense of repose came over Mehetabel. The babe was content
+and crooning itself to sleep. Her nerves in tension all day were
+now relaxed; her wearied body rested. She had no inquisitive
+companion to worry her with questions, none overkind to try her
+with injudicious attentions. She could sit on the fragrant fern
+leaves, extend her feet, lean her head against the sandstone, and
+watch the firelight play over the face of her child.
+
+A slight sound attracted her attention. It was caused by a bramble
+leaf caught in a cobweb, drawn in by the draught produced by the
+fire, and it tapped at and scratched the covering stone. Mehetabel,
+roused from her languor, saw what occasioned the sound, and lost
+all concern about it. There were particles in the sand that
+sparkled. It afforded her a childish pleasure to see the twinkles
+on every side in the rise and fall of the flames. It was no exertion
+to cast on another branch of heather, or even a bough of pine. It
+was real pleasure to listen to the crackle and to see the sparks
+shoot like rockets from the burning wood. The cave was a fairy
+palace. The warmth was grateful. The potatoes were hissing in the
+embers. Then Mehetabel dreamily noticed a black shadow stealing
+along the lower surface of the roof stone. At first she saw it
+without interest, without inquiry in her mind, but little by little
+her interest came, and her attention centred itself on the dark
+object.
+
+It was a spider, a hairy insect with a monstrous egglike belly,
+and it was creeping slowly and with caution towards the hibernating
+butterfly. Perhaps its limbs were stiff with inaction, its blood
+congealed; perhaps it dreaded lest by precipitation it might alarm
+its prey and lose it.
+
+Mehetabel put out her hand, picked up a piece of furze, and cast
+it at the spider, which fell.
+
+Then she was uneasy lest it would crawl along the ground and come
+to her baby, and sting it. She inherited the common superstition
+that spiders are poisonous insects.
+
+She must look for it.
+
+Only now, as she tried to raise herself, did she discover how stiff
+her joints had become. She rose to her knees, and raked out some of
+the potatoes from the ashes, and swept the floor where the spider
+had dropped with a brush of Scottish pine twigs.
+
+Then, all at once, she remained motionless. She heard steps and
+voices outside, the latter in low converse. Next a face looked in,
+and an exclamation followed, "Jamaica! There, sure enough, she be!"
+
+The voice, the face--there was no mistaking either. They belonged
+to Sally Rocliffe.
+
+The power to cry out failed in Mehetabel. She hastily thrust her
+child behind her, into the depths of the cave, and interposed
+herself between it and the glittering eyes of the woman.
+
+"Come on, Jamaica, we'll see how she has made herself comfortable,"
+said Mrs. Rocliffe, and she entered, followed by Giles Cheel. Both
+had to stoop at the opening, but when they were a few feet within,
+could stand upright.
+
+"Well, now, I call this coorious," said Sarah; "don't you, Jamaica?
+Here's all the Punch-Bowl turned out. Some runnin' one way, some
+another, all about Matabel. Some sez she's off her head; some
+thinks she has drownded herself and the child. And there's Jonas
+stormin', and in a purty takein'. There is my Thomas--gone with
+him--and Jamaica and I come this way over the Common. But I had a
+fancy you might be at the bottom o' one of them Hammer Ponds. I
+was told you'd been to the silk mill."
+
+"What be you run away for? What be you a hidin' for--just like a
+wild beast?" asked Giles Cheel.
+
+Mehetabel could not answer. How could she declare her reason? That
+the life of the child was menaced by its own father.
+
+"Now come back with us," said Jamaica, in a persuasive tone.
+
+"I will not. I never will return," exclaimed Mehetabel with energy.
+She was kneeling, with her hands extended to screen her child from
+the eye of Sally Rocliffe.
+
+"I told you so, did I not?" asked the woman.
+
+"She sed as much to me yesterday mornin when I saw her run away."
+
+"I will not go back. I will never go back," repeated Mehetabel
+
+"Where is the child?" asked Sally.
+
+"It is behind me."
+
+"How is it?"
+
+"It is well now, now we are out of the Punch-Bowl, where all hate
+it and wish it dead."
+
+"Now, look here, Matabel," said Cheel, "you be reasonable, and come
+peaceably."
+
+"I will not go back; I never will!" she answered with increased
+vehemence.
+
+"That's all very fine sayin'," pursued Giles Cheel. "But go back
+you must when Jonas fetches you."
+
+"I will not go back! Never! never!"
+
+"He'll make you."
+
+"Not if I will not go."
+
+"Aye, but he can. If you won't go when he axes, he can get the
+constable to force you to go home. The law of the land can help
+him thereto."
+
+"I will not go back! Never!"
+
+"Where he is just now, I can't say," pursued Cheel. "But I have a
+notion he's prowlin' about the moor, thinkin' you may have gone to
+Thor's Stone. Come he will, and he'll take you and the baby, and
+you may squeal and scratch, go back with him you must and will. So
+I say go peaceable."
+
+"I will not go back!" cried Mehetabel. She picked up a lump of
+ironstone and said, passionately, "I will defend myself. I am as
+strong as he. I am stronger, for I will fight for my child. I will
+kill him rather than let him take my baby from me."
+
+"Hear her!" exclaimed Sally Rocliffe. "She threatens she'll do
+for Jonas. Every one knows she tried that on once afore, wi' his
+gun."
+
+"Yes," said Mehetabel, fiercely, "I will even do that. Rather than
+go back and have my baby in that hated place again, I will fight
+and kill him. Let him come here and try."
+
+She set her teeth, her eyes glared, her breath came snorting
+through her nostrils.
+
+"I say, Gilly, I'll go back. It ain't safe here. She's possessed
+with seven devils."
+
+"I am not possessed, save with mother's love. I will never, never
+go back and take my babe to the Punch-Bowl. Never, never, allow
+you, Sally, to look at its innocent face again, nor Jonas to touch
+it. There is no one cares for it, no one loves it, no one who does
+not wish its death, but me, and I will fight, and never--"
+
+Her strength gave way, her hands sank in the sand, and her hair
+fell over her face, as she broke into a storm of sobs and tears.
+
+"I say, Jamaica, come out," whispered Mrs. Rocliffe. "We'll talk
+over wot's to be done."
+
+Giles Cheel and Sally Rocliffe crept out of the cave backwards.
+They did so, facing Mehetabel, with mistrust. Each believed that
+she was mad.
+
+When the two were outside, then Jonas's sister said to her companion
+"I'll tell you what, Jamaica, I won't have nuthin' more to do with
+this. There's somethin' queer; and whether Jonas has been doin'
+what he ort not, or whether Matabel be gone rampagin' mad, that's
+not for me to say. Let Jonas manage his own affairs, and don't let
+us meddle no more."
+
+"I am sure it's 'as nuthin' to me," said Cheel. "But this is a fine
+thing. At the christenin' of that there baby he had words to say
+about me and my Betsy, as if we was a disgrace to the Punch-Bowl,
+becos we didn't always agree. But my Betsy and me never came to
+such a pass as this. I'm willin'. Let's go back and have our
+suppers, and let her be where she is."
+
+"You need not tell Jonas that we have found her."
+
+"No; not if you wishes."
+
+"Let the matter alone altogether; I reckon she's in a dangerous
+mood, and so is Jonas. Something may come of it, and I'd as lief
+be out of it altogether."
+
+"That's my doctrine, too," said Giles.
+
+Then he put his head in at the cave door, and said "Good-night,
+missus!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+AT COLPUS'S.
+
+
+On the morrow Mehetabel, carrying her babe, revisited the
+schoolmistress, at an early hour, before the children assembled.
+
+Betty Chivers received her with joy.
+
+"Matabel," she said, "I've been thinking about you. There's James
+Colpus and his daughter are in want of a woman. That girl, Julia
+Caesar, as has been with them, got at the barrels of ale, and has
+been givin' drink all round to the men, just when they liked. She'd
+got a key to the cellar unbeknown to Master Colpus; so she has had
+to walk off. Polly Colpus, she knows you well enough, and what a
+managing girl you are. They couldn't do better than take you--that
+is, if they can arrange with Bideabout, and don't object to the
+baby."
+
+Accordingly, somewhat later, Mehetabel departed for the farm of
+James Colpus, that adjoined the land occupied by old Simon
+Verstage.
+
+James Colpus was preparing to go out fox-hunting when Mehetabel
+arrived. He wore a tight, dark-colored suit, that made his red
+face look the redder, and his foxy hair the foxier. His daughter
+had a face like a full moon, flat and eminently livid;' fair,
+almost white eyebrows, and an unmistakable moustache. She was
+extraordinarily plain, but good-natured. She was pouring out
+currant brandy for her father when Mehetabel arrived.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed Colpus. "Here is the runaway wife. Tally-ho!
+Tally-ho! We've got her. All the parish has been out after you,
+and you run to earth here, do you?"
+
+"If you please," said Mehetabel, "I have come to offer my services
+in the place of Julia Caesar, who has been sent away. You know I
+can work. You know I won't let nobody have the tap o' the beer--and
+as for wages, I'll take what you are willing to give."
+
+"That's all very fine, Miss Runaway, but what will Bideabout say
+to that?"
+
+"I am not going back to Bideabout," answered Mehetabel. "If you
+cannot take me, I shall go to every farm and offer myself, and if
+none in Thursley or Witley will have me, I'll beg my bread from
+door to door, till I do find a house where I may honestly earn it.
+Go back to the Punch-Bowl I will not."
+
+"I'd like to take you," said Colpus. "Glad to have you. Never a
+better girl anywhere, of that I am quite certain--only, how about
+the Broom-Squire? I'm constable, and it must not be said that the
+constable is keeping a man's wife away from him."
+
+"You will not keep me from him. Nothing in the world will make me
+go back to him."
+
+"Then--what about the baby? Can you let Bideabout have that?"
+
+Mehetabel flushed almost as red as Colpus and his daughter.
+
+"Never!" she said, firmly.
+
+"But, look here," said the farmer, "if I did agree to take you,
+why, after a day or two, you'd be homesick, and wantin' to be back
+in the arms of Jonas. It's always so with women."
+
+"I shall never go back," persisted Mehetabel.
+
+"So you say. But before the week is out you'll be piping another
+song."
+
+"You may bind me to stay--three months--six--a year,"
+
+"That is all very well to say. Bind me, but how? What bind will
+hold--when the marriage tie does not?"
+
+"The marriage tie would have held me till death," answered
+Mehetabel gravely, "if Jonas had not done that which makes it
+impossible for me to remain. It is not for my sake that I am away.
+Had I been alone I would have borne all till I died. But I have
+other duties now. I am a mother. Here is my darling, a charge from
+God. I owe it to God to do what I am here for--to find another
+home, a place away from the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I cannot explain."
+
+"Is the Punch-Bowl unhealthy for the child?"
+
+"Yes, it would die there."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"I know it. My heart says so."
+
+"Now look here," said Colpus, getting red as a poppy, "there's a
+lot of talk in the place about you. Some say that Bideabout is in
+the wrong, some say that the wrong lies with you. It is reported
+that he beat you, and there are folks that tell as how you gave him
+occasion. You must let me know the right of it all, or I can't take
+you."
+
+"Then I must go," said Mehetabel, "I cannot tell you all. You may
+think ill of me if you choose, I cannot help that."
+
+Colpus rubbed his foxy whiskers and head.
+
+"You're a won'erful active woman, and do more work than three
+ordinary gals. I'd like to have you in the house. But then--what
+am I to say if Kink comes to claim you?"
+
+"Say you will not give me up."
+
+"But I ain't so sure but what he can force me to surrender you."
+
+"You are the strongest man in Thursley."
+
+"'Tain't that," said Colpus, gratified by the compliment. "'Tis he
+might bring the law against me. I don't know nuthin' about law,
+though I'm constable, but I reckon, if I was to keep a cow of his
+as had strayed and refused to give her up, he could compel me. And
+what's true of a cow is true of a wife. If I could be punished for
+stealin' his goose I might be summonsed all on account of you. Then
+there's the babe--that might be brought in as kidnappin'! I daren't
+risk it."
+
+"But, father," put in Polly. "How would it do for a time, just to
+try."
+
+"There's something in that, Polly.
+
+"And Julia Caesar have left things in a terrible mess. We must have
+all cleared up before another comes in. What if we take Matabel by
+the day to clear up?"
+
+"Look here, Polly," said Colpus, who visibly oscillated in mind
+between his wishes to engage Mehetabel and his fears as to what the
+consequences might be. "It's this," he touched his forehead, and
+made a sign towards the applicant. "Folk do say it."
+
+"Matabel," said the good-natured farmer's daughter, "you go along
+to Thursley, and father and I will talk it over. If we think we
+can take you--where shall we send to find you?"
+
+"To Betty Chivers' house."
+
+"Well, in half an hour I trust we shall have decided. Now go."
+
+As Mehetabel withdrew, Polly said, "It's all gammon, father, about
+her not being right in her head. Her eye is as steady as the
+evenin' star. And it's all lies about there bein' any fault in her.
+Matabel is as honest and true as sunlight."
+
+Then old Colpus shouted after Mehetabel, who was departing by the
+lane. "Don't go that way, over the field is the path--by the stile.
+There's a lot o' water in the lane."
+
+The young mother turned, thanked him with an inclination of the
+head, and pressing her cheek to the child she bore, she took the
+path that crossed a meadow, and which led to a tuft of holly, near
+which was the stile, into the lane. She walked on, with her cheek
+resting on the child's head, and her eyes on the trodden, cropped
+wintry grass, with a flutter of hope in her bosom; for she was
+almost certain that with the influence of Polly engaged on her
+side, old Colpus would agree to receive her.
+
+She did not walk swiftly. She had no occasion for haste. She hoped
+that the objections of the farmer would give way before she had
+reached the hedge, and that he would recall her.
+
+She had almost arrived t the turf of holly, singing in a low tone
+to the child in her arms, when, a voice made her start and cry out.
+
+She looked up. Jonas was before her.
+
+Unobserved by her he had entered the field. From the lane he had
+seen her, and he had crossed the stile and come upon her.
+
+She stood frozen to the spot. Each muscle became rigid; the blood
+in her arteries tingled as though bees were making their way through
+every vein. Her brows met in a black band across her face. She
+trembled for a moment, and then was firm. A supreme moment, the
+supreme moment in her life was come.
+
+"So I have found you at last," sneered Jonas. Hatred, fury, were
+in him and sent a quiver through the tones of his voice.
+
+"Yes, you have found me," she answered with composure.
+
+"You--do you know what you have done? Made me a derision and a talk
+to all Thursley, a jest in every pot-house."
+
+"I have not done this. It is your doing."
+
+"Is it not enough that I have lost my money, but must I have this
+scandal and outrage in my home?"
+
+She did not answer him. She looked steadily at him, and he dared
+not meet her eyes.
+
+"You must come with me at once," he said.
+
+"I will not go with you."
+
+"I will make you."
+
+"That you cannot."
+
+"You are mad. You must be put under restraint."
+
+"I will go to the madhouse, but not to the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"You shall be forced to return."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I will have you tied. I will swear you are crazed. I will have you
+locked up, and I will beat you till you learn to obey and behave as
+I would have you."
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel, "this is idle talk. Never, never will I go
+back to you."
+
+"Never!"
+
+He approached, his eyes glaring, his white fangs showing, like
+those of a dog about to bite.
+
+Instinctively she put her hand into her pocket and drew forth a
+lump of ironstone, that she had brandished the previous evening
+before Sally Rocliffe and Giles Cheel; and which she carried with
+her as her only weapon of defence.
+
+"Jonas," said Mehetabel. "You may threaten, but your threats do not
+move me. I can defend myself."
+
+"Oh, with a stone? he scoffed.
+
+"Yes, if need be with a stone. But I have better protection than
+that."
+
+"Indeed--let me hear it."
+
+"If you venture to touch me--venture to threaten any more--then I
+shall appeal for protection."
+
+"To whom--to Iver?"
+
+"Not to Iver," her heart boiled up, and was still again.
+
+"To whom--to Farmer Colpus?"
+
+"To the law."
+
+"The law!" jeered Jonas. "It is the law that will send you back to
+me."
+
+"It is the law which will protect me from you," answered Mehetabel.
+
+"I am fain to learn how."
+
+"How! I have but to go before a magistrate and tell how you tried
+to poison your own child--how, when that failed, you tried to
+smother it. And, Jonas," she added--as she saw his face grow ashen,
+and a foam bubble form on his lips--"and, Jonas," she stepped
+forward, and he backed--his glassy eyes on her face, "and, Jonas,"
+she said, "look here, I have this stone. With the like of this you
+sought to kill me in the moor." She raised it above her head, "you
+would-be murderer of your wife and your child--I am free from you."
+She took another step forward--he reeled back and vanished--disappeared
+instantly from her sight with a scream--instantly and absolutely,
+as when the earth opened its mouth at the word of Moses and swallowed
+up Korah.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+AGAIN: IRONSTONE.
+
+
+Mehetabel heard shouts, exclamations, and saw Thomas Rocliffe and
+his son, Samuel, come up over the stile from the lane, and James
+Colpus running towards her.
+
+What had happened? Whither had Jonas vanished? She drew back and
+passed her hand, still holding the ironstone, over her face.
+
+Then she saw Thomas and Samuel stoop, kneel, and Thomas swing
+himself down and also disappear; thereupon up came the farmer.
+
+"What is it? Has he fallen in--into the kiln?"
+
+That the reader may understand what had occurred, it is necessary
+that a few words of explanation should be given.
+
+At the time when the country was densely wooded with oaks, then the
+farmers were wont annually to draw chalk from the quarries in the
+flank of the Hog's Back, that singular ridge, steep as a Gothic
+roof, running east and west from Guildford, and to cart this to
+their farms. On each of these was a small brick kiln, constructed
+in a sand-bank beside a lane, so that the chalk and fuel might be
+thrown in from above, where the top of the kiln was level with the
+field, and the burnt quicklime drawn out below and shovelled into a
+cart that would convey it by the road to whatever field was thought
+to require such a dressing.
+
+But fuel became scarce, and when the trees had vanished, then sea
+coal was introduced. Thereupon the farmers found it more convenient
+to purchase quicklime at the kiln mouth near the chalk quarry, than
+to cart the chalk and burn it themselves.
+
+The private kilns were accordingly abandoned and allowed to fall to
+ruin. Some were prudently filled in with earth and sand, but this
+was exceptional. The majority were allowed to crumble in slowly;
+and at the present day such abandoned kilns may be found on all
+sides, in various stages of decay.
+
+Into such a kiln, that had not been filled in, Jonas had fallen,
+when he stepped backwards, unconscious of its existence.
+
+Polly Colpus had followed her father, but kept in the rear, alarmed,
+and dreading a ghastly sight. The farmer bent with hands on his
+knees over the hole. Samuel knelt.
+
+"Have you got him?" asked Colpus.
+
+"Lend a hand," called Thomas from below, and with the assistance of
+those above the body of Jonas Kink was lifted on to the bank.
+
+"He's dead," said the farmer.
+
+Then Mehetabel laughed.
+
+The three men and Polly Colpus turned and looked at her with
+estrangement.
+
+They did not understand that there was neither mockery nor frivolity
+in the laugh, that it proceeded involuntarily from the sudden
+relaxation of overstrained nerves. At the moment Mehetabel was
+aware of one thing only, that she had nothing more to fear, that
+her baby was safe from pursuit. It was this thought that dominated
+her and caused the laugh of relief. She had not in the smallest
+degree realized how it was that this relief was obtained.
+
+"Fetch a hurdle," said Colpus, "and, Polly, run in and send a couple
+of men. We must carry him to the Punch-Bowl. I reckon he's pretty
+well done for. I don't see a sign of life in him."
+
+The Broom-Squire was laid on the gass.
+
+Strange is the effect of death on a man's clothes. The moment the
+vital spark has left the body, the garments hang about him as though
+never made to fit him. They take none of the usual folds; they lose
+their gloss--it is as though life had departed out of them as well.
+
+Mehetabel seated herself on a bit of swelling ground and looked on,
+without understanding what she saw; seeing, hearing, as in a dream;
+and after the first spasm of relief, as if what was being done in
+no way concerned her, belonged to another world to her own. It was
+as though she were in the moon and saw what men were doing on the
+earth.
+
+When the Broom-Squire had been lifted upon a hurdle, then Polly
+Colpus thought right to touch Mehetabel, and say in a low tone:
+"You will follow him and go to the Punch-Bowl?"
+
+"I will never, never go there again. I have said so," answered
+Mehetabel.
+
+Then to avoid being pressed further, she stood up and went away,
+bearing her child in her arms.
+
+The men looked after her and shook their heads.
+
+"Bideabout has had a blow on the forehead," said Colpus.
+
+Mehetabel returned to the school, entered without a word, and seated
+herself by the fire.
+
+"Have you succeeded?" asked the widow.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Will Farmer Colpus take you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What have you in your hand?"
+
+Mehetabel opened her fingers and allowed Betty Chivers to remove
+from her hand a lump of ironstone.
+
+"What are you carrying this for, Matabel?"
+
+"I defend baby with it," she answered.
+
+"Well, you do not need it in my house," said the dame, and placed
+the liver-colored lump on the table.
+
+"How hot your hand is," she continued. "Here, let me feel again. It
+is burning. And your forehead is the same. Are you unwell, Matabel?"
+
+"I am cold," she answered dreamily.
+
+"You have been over-worried and worked," said the kind old woman.
+"I will get you a cup of tea."
+
+"He won't follow me any more and try to take my baby away," said
+Mehetabel.
+
+"I am glad of that."
+
+"And I also."
+
+Then she moved her seat, winding and bending on one side.
+
+"What is it, my dear?" asked Betty.
+
+"His shadow. It will follow me and fall over baby."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Mehetabel made no reply, and the widow buried herself in preparation
+for the midday meal, a very humble one of bread and weak tea.
+
+"There's drippin' in the bowl," she said, "you can put some o' that
+on the bread. And now, give me the little chap. You are not afraid
+of trusting him to me?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+The mother at once surrendered the child, and Mrs. Chivers sat by
+the fire with the infant in her lap.
+
+"He's very like you," she said.
+
+"I couldn't love him if he were like him," said Mehetabel.
+
+"You must not say that."
+
+"He is a bad man."
+
+"Leave God to judge him."
+
+"He has judged him," answered the girl, looking vacantly into the
+fire, and then passed her hand over her eyes and pressed her brow.
+
+"Have you a headache, dear?"
+
+"Yes--bad. It is his shadow has got in there--rolled up, and I can't
+shake it out."
+
+"Matabel--you must go to bed. You are not well."
+
+"No--I am not well. But my baby?"
+
+"He is safe with me."
+
+"I am glad of that, you will teach him A B C, and the Creed, and to
+pray to and fear God. But you needn't teach him to find Abelmeholah
+on the map, nor how many gallons of water the Jordan carries into
+the Dead Sea every minute, nor how many generations there are in
+Matthew. That is all no good at all. Nor does it matter where is
+the country of the Gergesenes. I have tried it. The Vicar was a
+good man, was he not, Betty?"
+
+"Yes, very good."
+
+"He would give the coat off his back, and the bread out of his
+mouth to the poor. He gave beef and plum pudding all around at
+Christmas, and lent out blankets in winter. But he never gave
+anything to the soul, did he, Betty? Never made the heart warm. I
+found it so. What I got of good for that was from you."
+
+"My dear," said the old woman, starting up. "I insist on your going
+to bed at once. I see by your eye, by the fire in your cheek, that
+you are ill."
+
+"I will go to bed; I do not want anything to eat, only to lay my
+head down, and then the shadow will run out at my ear--only I fear
+it may stain the pillow. When I'm rich I will buy you another. Baby
+is rich; he has got a hundred and fifty pounds. What is his is
+mine, and what is mine is his. He will not grudge you a new
+pillow-case."
+
+Mehetabel, usually reserved and silent, had become loquacious and
+rambling in her talk. It was but too obvious, that she was in a
+fever, and wandering. Mrs. Chivers insisted on her taking some tea,
+and then she helped her upstairs to the little bedroom, and did not
+leave her till she was asleep. The school children, who came in
+after their dinner hour, were dismissed, so that Mrs. Chivers had
+the afternoon to devote to the care of the child and of the sick
+mother, who was in high fever.
+
+She was in the bedroom when she heard a knock at the door, and
+then a heavy foot below. She descended the rickety stairs as gently
+as possible, and found Farmer Colpus in the schoolroom.
+
+"How do you do, Mrs. Chivers? Can you tell me, is Matabel Kink
+here?"
+
+"Yes--if you do not mind, Mr. Colpus, to speak a little lower. She
+is in bed and asleep."
+
+"Asleep?"
+
+"She came in at noon, rather excited and queer, and her hand
+burnin' like a hot chestnut, so I gave her a dish o' tea and sent
+her upstairs. I thought it might be fever--and her eyes were that
+strange and unsteady--"
+
+"It is rather odd," said the constable, "but my daughter observed
+how calm and clear her eye was--only an hour before."
+
+"Maybe," said Mrs. Chivers, "and yet she was that won'erful
+wanderin' in her speech--"
+
+"You don't think she was shamming?"
+
+"Shammin'! Lord, sir--that Matabel never did, and I've knowed her
+since she was two-year old. At three and a half she comed to my
+school."
+
+"By the way, what is that stone on your table?" asked Colpus.
+
+"That, sir? Matabel had it in her hand when she comed in. I took
+it away, and then I felt how burnin' she was, like a fire."
+
+"Oh! she was still holding that stone. Did she say anything about
+it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, she said that she used it to defend herself and baby."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"She didn't say--but you know, sir, there has been a bit of tiff
+between her and the Broom-Squire, and she won't hear of goin back
+to the Punch-Bowl, and she has a fancy he wants to take the baby
+away from her. That's ridic'lous, of course. But there is no getting
+the idea out of her head."
+
+"I must see her."
+
+"You can't speak to her, sir. She is asleep still." Colpus
+considered.
+
+"I'll ask you to allow me to take this stone away, Betty. And I
+must immediately send for the doctor. He has been sent for to the
+Punch-Bowl, and I'll stop him on the way back to Godalming. I must
+be assured that Matabel is in a fit state to be removed."
+
+"Removed, whither?"
+
+"To the lock-up."
+
+"The lock-up, sir?"
+
+"To the lock-up. Do you know, Mrs. Chivers, that Jonas Kink is
+dead, and that very strong suspicions attach to Matabel, that she
+killed him?"
+
+"Matabel killed him!"
+
+"Yes, with that very stone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+IN HOPE.
+
+
+When the surgeon, on his return from the Punch-Bowl was called in
+to see Mehetabel, he at once certified that she was not in a
+condition to be removed, and that she would require every possible
+attention for several days.
+
+Accordingly, James Colpus allowed her to remain at the Dame's School,
+but cautioned Betty Chivers that he should hold her responsible for
+the appearance of Mehetabel when required.
+
+Jonas Kink was not dead, as Colpus thought when lifted out of the
+kiln into which he had been precipitated backwards, but he had
+received several blows on the head which had broken in the skull
+and stunned him. Had there been a surgeon at hand to relieve the
+pressure on the brain, he might perhaps have recovered, but there
+was none nearer than Godalming; the surgeon was out when the
+messenger arrived, and did not return till late, then he was
+obliged to get a meal, and hire a horse, as his own was tired, and
+by the time he arrived at the Punch-Bowl Jonas had ceased to
+breathe, and all he could do was to certify his death and the
+cause thereof.
+
+Mehetabel's nature was vigorous and elastic with youth. She
+recovered rapidly, more so, indeed than Mrs. Chivers would allow
+to James Colpus, as she was alarmed at the prospect of having to
+break to her that a warrant was issued against her on the charge
+of murder.
+
+When she did inform her, Mehetabel could not believe what she was
+told.
+
+"That is purely," she said. "I kill Jonas! If he had touched me and
+tried to take baby away I might have done it. I would have fought
+him like a tiger, as I did before."
+
+"When did you fight him?"
+
+"In the Moor, by Thor's Stone, over the gun--there when the shot
+went off into his arm."
+
+"I never knew much of that, though there was at the time some talk."
+
+"Yes. I need say nothing of that now. But as to hurting Jonas, I
+never hurted nobody in my life save myself, and that was when I
+married him. I don't believe I could kill a fly--and then only if
+it were teasin' baby."
+
+"There is Joe Filmer downstairs, has somethin' to say. Can he come
+up?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mehetabel. "He was always kind to me."
+
+The ostler of the Ship stumbled up the stairs and saluted the sick
+girl with cordiality and respect.
+
+"Very sorry about this little affair. 'Tis a pity, I sez, that such
+a fuss be made over trifles. There's been the crownin' of the body,
+and now there's to be the hearin' of you afore the magistrates, and
+then they say you'll have to go to the 'sizez, and there'll come
+the hangin'. 'Tis terrible lot o' fuss all about Jonas as wasn't
+worth it. No one'll miss him and if you did kill him, well, there
+was cause, and I don't think the wuss o' you for it."
+
+"Thank you, Joe, but I did not kill him."
+
+"Well--you know--it's right for you to say so, 'cos you'll have to
+plead not guilty. Polly, at our place never allows she's broke
+nothin', but the chinay and the pipkins have got a terrible way of
+committin' felo de se since she came to the Ship. She always sez
+she didn't do it--and right enough. No one in this free country
+is obliged to incriminate hisself. That's one of our glorious
+institootions."
+
+"I really am guiltless," urged Mehetabel.
+
+"Quite right you should say so. Pleased to hear it. But I don't
+know what the magistrates will say. Most folks here sez you did,
+and all the Punch-Bowl will swear it. They sez you tried to kill
+him wi' his own gun, but didn't succeed as you wished, so now you
+knocked him on the head effectual like, and tippled his dead body
+down into the kiln. He was an aggravatin' chap, was Bideabout, and
+deserved it. But that is not what I come here to say."
+
+"And that was--"
+
+"Well, now, I mustn't say it too loud. I just slipped in when
+nobody was about, as I don't want it to be known as I am here. The
+master and I settled it between us."
+
+"Settled what, Joe?"
+
+"You see he always had a wonderful liking for you, and so had I.
+He was agin you marryin' the Broom-Squire, but the missus would
+have it so. Now he's goyne to send me with the trap to Portsmouth.
+He's had orders for it from a gent as be comin' wild fowl shootin'
+in the Moor. So my notion is I'll drive by here in the dark, and
+you'll be ready, and come along wi' me, takin' the baby with you,
+and I'll whip you off to Portsmouth, and nobody a penny the wiser.
+I've got a married sister there--got a bit o' a shop, and I'll take
+you to her, and if you don't mind a bit o' nonsense, I'll say you're
+my wife and that's my baby. Then you can stay there till all is
+quiet. I've a notion as Master Colpus be comin' to arrest you
+to-morrow, and that would be comical games. If you will come along
+wi' me, and let me pass you off as I sed, then you can lie hid till
+the wind has changed. It's a beautiful plan. I talked it over with
+the master, and he's agreeable; and as to money--well, he put ten
+pound into my hand for you, and there's ten pound of my wages I've
+saved and hid in the thatchin' of the cow-stall, and have no use
+for; that's twenty pound, and will keep you and the baby goin' for
+a while, and when that's done I daresay there'll be more to be had."
+
+"I thank you, Joe," began Mehetabel, the tears rising in her eyes.
+
+He cut her short. "The master don't want Polly to know nothin' of
+it. Polly's been able to get the mastery in the house. She's got
+the keys, and she's a'most got the old chap under lock. But it's
+my experience as fellows when they get old get won'erful artful,
+and master may be under her thumb in most things, but not all. And
+he don't fancy the notion of your bein' hanged. So he gave me that
+ten pound, and when I sed I'd drive you away afore the constable
+had you--why, he just about jumped out o' his breeches wi' joy.
+Only the first thing he said then was--'Not a word to Polly.'"
+
+"Indeed, Joe, you are good, but I cannot go."
+
+"You must go either to Portsmouth or to Gorlmyn. You may be a free
+woman, but in hidin', or go to prison. There's the choice before
+you. And if you b'ain't a fool, I know what you will take."
+
+"I do not think it right to run away."
+
+"Of course if you killed him deliberate, then you may go cheerful
+like and be hanged for it. But wot I sez and most sez, but they in
+the Punch-Bowl, is that it worn't deliberate. It were done under
+aggravatin' sarcumstances. The squatters in the Bowl, they have
+another tale. They say you tried to shoot him, and then to poison
+him, and he lived in fear of his life of you, and then you knocked
+him head over heels into the kiln, and served him right is my
+doctrine, and I respect you for it. But then--wot our people in
+Thursley sez is that it'll give the place a bad name if you're hung
+on Hind Head. They've had three hangin' there already, along of wot
+they did to your father. And to have another might damage the
+character of the place. I don't fancy myself that farmer Colpus is
+mighty keen on havin' you hanged."
+
+"I shall not be hanged when I am guiltless," said Mehetabel.
+
+"My dear," answered the hostler, "it all depends not on what you
+are but on what the judge and jury think, and that depends on the
+lawyers what they say in their harangues. There's chances in all
+these things, and the chance may be as you does get found guilty
+and be sentenced to the gallows. It might cause an unpleasantness
+here, and that you would wish to avoid I don't say as even Sally
+Rocliffe and Thomas would like it, for you're related to them
+somehow, and I'm quite sure as Thursley villagers won't like it,
+cos we've all respected you and have held Jonas cheap. And why we
+should have you hanged becos he's dead--that's unanswerable I say.
+So I'll be round after dark and drive you to Portsmouth."
+
+"No, indeed, I cannot go."
+
+"You can think it over. What about the little chap, the baby? If
+they hang you, that'll be wuss for him than it was for you. For you
+it were bad enough, because you had three men hanged all along of
+your father, but for he it'll be far more serious when he goes
+about the world as the chap as had his mother hanged."
+
+"Joe, you insist on imagining the worst. It cannot, it will not, be
+that I shall be condemned when guiltless."
+
+"If I was you I'd make sure I wasn't ketched," urged the hostler.
+"You may be quite certain that the master will do what he can for
+you; but I must say this, he is that under Polly that you can't
+depend on him. There was old Clutch on the day when Bideabout was
+killed. The doctor came from Gorlmyn on a hired hoss, and it was
+the gray mare from the inn there. Well, old Clutch seems to have
+found it out, and with his nose he lifted the latch of the
+stable-door and got out, and trotted away after the doctor or the
+old mare all the road to Gorlmyn; and he's there now in a field
+with the mare, as affable as can be with her. It's the way of old
+horses--and what, then, can you expect of old men? Polly can lead
+the master where she pleases."
+
+"Joe," said Mehetabel, "I cannot accept your kind offer. Do not
+think me ungrateful. I am touched to the heart. But I will not
+attempt to run away; that would at once be taken as a token that I
+was guilty and was afraid of the consequences. I will not do
+anything to give occasion for such a thought. I am not guilty,
+and will act as an innocent person would."
+
+"You may please yourself," answered Filmer; "but if you don't go, I
+shall think you what I never thought you before--a fool."
+
+"I cannot help it; I must do what is right," said Mehetabel. "But I
+shall never forget your kindness, Joe, at a time when there are
+very few who are friends to me."
+
+The period of Mehetabel's illness had been a trying one for the
+infant, and its health, never strong, had suffered. Happily, the
+little children who came to the Dame's school were ready and
+suitable nurses for it. A child can amuse and distract a babe from
+its woes in an exceptional manner, and all the little pupils were
+eager to escape A B C by acting as nurses.
+
+When the mother was better, the babe also recovered; but it was, at
+best, a puny, frail creature.
+
+Mehetabel was aware how feeble a life was that which depended on
+her, but would not admit it to herself. She could not endure to
+have the delicacy of the child animadverted upon. She found excuses
+for its tears, explanations of its diminutive size, a reason for
+every doubtful sign--only not the right one. She knew she was
+deceiving herself, but clung to the one hope that filled her--that
+she might live for her child, and her child might live for her.
+
+The human heart must have hope. That is as necessary to its
+thriving as sun is to the flowers. If it were not for the spring
+before it, the flower-root would rot in the ground, the tree canker
+at the core; the bird would speed south never to return; the insect
+would not retreat under shelter in the rain; the dormouse would not
+hibernate, the ant collect its stores, the bee its honey. There
+could be no life without expectation; and a life without hope in
+man or woman is that of a machine--not even that of an animal. Hope
+is the mainspring of every activity; it is the spur to all
+undertakings; it is the buttress to every building; it runs in all
+youthful blood; it gives buoyancy to every young heart and vivacity
+to every brain. Mehetabel had hope in her now. She had no thought
+for herself save how it concerned her child. In that child her hope
+was incorporate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A TROUBLED HOPE.
+
+
+On the following morning Mehetabel was conveyed to Godalming, and
+was brought before the magistrates, assembled in Petty Sessions.
+
+She was in no great anxiety. She knew that she was innocent, and
+had a childlike, childish confidence that innocence must come out
+clear of stain, and then only guilt suffered punishment.
+
+Before the magistrates this confidence of hers was rudely shaken.
+The evidence that would be produced against her at the Assizes was
+gone through in rough, as is always done in these cases, and the
+charge assumed a gravity of complexion that astonished and abashed
+her. That she and her husband had not lived in harmony was shown;
+also that he had asserted that she had attempted his life with his
+gun; that he was afraid she would poison him if trusted with the
+opiate prescribed for him when suffering from a wound. It was
+further shown by Giles Cheel and Sarah Rocliffe that she had
+threatened to kill her husband with a stone, if not that actually
+used by her, and then on the table, by one so like it as to be
+hardly distinguishable from it. This threat had been made on the
+night previous to the death of Jonas Kink. On the morning she had
+encountered her husband in a field belonging to Mr. James Colpus,
+and this meeting had been witnessed by the owner of the field, his
+daughter, and by Thomas Rocliffe and his son Samuel.
+
+Colpus and his daughter had been at some distance in the rear, but
+Thomas and Samuel Rocliffe had been close by, in a sunken lane;
+they had witnessed the meeting from a distance of under thirty
+feet, and were so concealed by the hedge of holly and the bank as
+to render it improbable that they were visible to the accused.
+
+James Colpus had seen that an altercation took place between
+Mehetabel and the deceased, but was at too great a distance to
+hear what was said. He had seen Mehetabel raise her hand, holding
+something--what he could not say--and threaten Jonas with it; but
+he did not actually see her strike him, because at that moment he
+turned to say something to his daughter.
+
+The evidence of Mary Colpus was to much the same effect. The
+accused had come to her to ask for a situation vacant in the house,
+through the dismissal of Julia Caesar, her former servant, and
+some difficulty had been raised as to her reception, on account
+of the doubt whether Jonas would allow his wife to go out into
+service, and leave her home. She and her father had promised to
+consider the matter, and with this understanding Mehetabel had
+left, carrying her babe.
+
+Just as she reached the further extremity of the field, she met
+her husband, Jonas Kink, who came up over the stile, out of the
+lane, apparently unobserved by Mehetabel; for, when he addressed
+her, she started, drew back, and thrust her hand into her pocket
+and pulled out a stone. With this she threatened to strike him; but
+whether she carried her threat into execution, or what occasioned
+his fall, she could not say, owing to her father having spoken to
+her at that moment, and she had diverted her eyes from the two in
+the field to him. When next she looked Jonas had disappeared, and
+she heard the shouts, and saw the faces of Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, as they came through the hedge.
+
+Then her father said, "Something has happened!" and started
+running. She had followed at a distance, and seen the Rocliffes
+pull the body of Jonas Kink out of the kiln and lay it on the grass.
+
+Thomas Rocliffe was a stupid man, and the magistrates had difficulty
+with him. They managed, however, to extract from him the following
+statement on oath:
+
+He and Samuel had been out the previous day along with Jonas Kink,
+his brother-in-law, looking for Mehetabel. Jonas thought she had
+gone to the Moor and had drowned herself, and he had said he did
+not care "such a won'erful sight whether she had."
+
+On the morning of the event of his death Jonas had come to them,
+and asked them to attend him again, and from what he, Thomas, had
+heard from Sally, he said that they had been on the wrong scent
+the night before, and that they must look for Matabel nigher, in
+or about the village.
+
+They had gone together, he and Jonas and his son Samuel, along the
+lane that led out of the Punch-Bowl towards Thursley by the
+Colpus's farm, and as they went along, in the deep lane, Jonas
+shouted out that he saw his wife coming along. Then he, Thomas
+and Samuel looked, and they also saw her. She was walking very
+slow, and "was cuddlin' the baby," and did not seem to know where
+she was going, for she went wide of the stile. Then Jonas got up
+over the stile, and told Thomas and Samuel to bide where they
+were till he called them. They did so, and saw him address
+Mehetabel, who was surprised when he spoke to her, and then
+something was said between them, and she pulled a big stone out
+of her pocket and raised it over her head, stepped forward,
+"sharp-like," and knocked him with it, on the head, so that he
+fell like one struck with a thunderbolt, backward into the kiln.
+Thereupon he and Samuel came up over the hedge, and he jumped
+into the kiln, and found his brother-in-law there, huddled up
+in a heap at the bottom. He managed with difficulty to heave
+him out, and with the assistance of Samuel and Farmer Colpus, to
+lay him on the grass, when all three supposed he was dead.
+
+When they said that he was dead, then Mehetabel laughed.
+
+This statement produced a commotion in court. Then they got a
+hurdle or gate, he couldn't say which, and lifted the deceased
+on to it and carried him home to the Punch-Bowl. It was only when
+they laid him on the bed that they saw he still breathed. They
+heard him groan, and he moved one hand--the right. He was rather
+stiff and awkward with his left since his accident.
+
+This evidence was corroborated at every point by the testimony of
+Samuel, who was quite positive that Mehetabel had struck Jonas on
+the head. Like all stupid people, the two Rocliffes were ready to
+swear to and maintain with tenacity those points which were false
+or inaccurate, and to hesitate about asserting with confidence such
+as were true, and could not be other than true. It is not always
+in the power of a wise and observant man to discriminate between
+facts and imagination, and a dull and undeveloped intelligence is
+absolutely incapable of distinguishing between them.
+
+The evidence of the surgeon was to the effect that Jonas Kink had
+died from the consequences of fracture of the skull, but whether
+caused by a blow from a stone or from a fall he was unable to
+state. There were contusions on his person. He probably struck
+his head against the bricks of the kiln as he fell or was thrown
+into it. Abrasions of the skin were certainly so caused. When he,
+the witness, arrived at the Punch-Bowl, Kink was already dead. He
+might have been dead an hour, the body was not absolutely cold.
+When asked whether the piece of ironstone on the table might have
+dealt the blow which had broken in the skull of Jonas, he replied,
+that it might have done so certainly, and the fracture of the skull
+was quite compatible with the charge advanced that it had been so
+caused.
+
+The next witness summoned was Betty Chivers, who gave her evidence
+with great reluctance, and with many tears. It was true that the
+stone produced in court had been taken by her from the hand of the
+accused, and that immediately on her return from the farm of Mr.
+Colpus. Mehetabel had not told her that she had met her husband,
+had not said that he was dead, but had admitted that she had armed
+herself with the stone for the purpose of self-defence against
+Jonas, her husband, who, she believed, desired to take the child
+from her.
+
+Mehetabel was asked if she had anything to say, and when she
+declined to say anything, was committed for trial at the ensuing
+assizes at Kingston.
+
+Throughout the hearing she had been uneasy. The cell where she had
+been confined was close to the court, and she had been obliged to
+leave her child with a woman who had attended to her; and with this
+person the infant would not be at rest. Faintly, and whenever there
+was a lull in the court, she could hear the wail of her child, the
+little voice rising and falling, and she was impatient to be back
+with it, to still its cries and console the little heart, that was
+frightened at the presence of strangers and separation from its
+mother.
+
+Through all the time that she was in court, Mehetabel was listening
+for the voice of the little one, and paying far more attention to
+that, than to the evidence produced against her.
+
+It was not till Mehetabel was removed to Kingston on Thames and put
+in the prison to await her trial, that the full danger that menaced
+was realized by her, and then it was mainly as it affected her
+child, that it alarmed her. Life had not been so precious, that
+she valued it, save for the sake of this feeble child so dependent
+on her for everything.
+
+Her confidence in justice was no longer great. Ever since her
+marriage--indeed, ever since Mrs. Verstage had turned against her,
+she had been buffeted by Fortune, devoid of friends. Why should a
+Court of Justice treat her otherwise than had the little world
+with which she had been brought in contact.
+
+In Kingston prison the wife of the jailer was kind, and took a
+fancy to the unhappy young mother. She sat with and talked to her.
+
+"If they hang me," said Mehetabel, "what will become of my baby?"
+
+"It will go to a relation."
+
+"It has no relations but Sally Rocliffe, and she has ill-wished it.
+She will be unkind to it, she wants it to die; and if it lives,
+she will speak to my child unkindly of me."
+
+She wiped her eyes. "I cannot bear to think of that. I might make
+up my mind to die, if I knew my baby would be kindly cared for and
+loved--though none could love it and care for it as I do. But I
+could not die thinking it was taught that I was a bad woman, and
+heard untrue things said of me every day. I know Sally, she would
+do that. I had rather my child went on the parish, as I did, than
+that Sally Rocliffe should have it. I was a charity girl, and I
+was well cared for by Susanna Verstage, but that was a chance, or
+rather a Providence, and I know very well there are not many
+Susanna Verstages in the world. There is not another in Thursley,
+no, nor in Witley either."
+
+"Your child could not go on the parish. Your husband, as I have
+been told, had a freehold of his own and some money."
+
+"He lost all his money."
+
+"But the farm was his, and that must be worth a few hundred pounds,
+so that it would not be possible for the child to go on the parish."
+
+"Then it must go to Sally Rocliffe. There is no other relation."
+
+This was now the great trouble of Mehetabel. She had accepted the
+inevitable, that wrong judgment would be pronounced, and that she
+would be hung. Then the thought that her little darling would be
+placed under the charge of the woman who had embittered her married
+life, the woman who believed her to be guilty of murder,--this
+was more than she could endure.
+
+She had passed completely from confidence that her innocence would
+be acknowledged and that she would at once be released, a condition
+in which she had rested previous to her appearance before the
+magistrates at Godalming, into the reverse state, she accepted,
+now that she was in prison, awaiting her trial, as a certainty that
+she would be condemned and sentenced to the gallows.
+
+This frame of mind in which she was affected the jailer's wife, and
+made her suppose that Mehetabel was guilty of the crime wherewith
+she was charged.
+
+All Mehetabel's thoughts and schemings were directed towards the
+disposal of her child and its welfare after she was taken from it.
+All the struggle within her torn heart was to reconcile herself to
+the parting, and to have faith in Providence that her child would
+be cared for when she was removed.
+
+How that could be she saw not; and she came at length to hope that
+when she was taken away the poor little orphan babe would follow
+her. In that thought she found more comfort than in the anticipation
+of its living, ill-treated by its aunt, and brought up to be
+ashamed of its mother.
+
+"You say," said Mehetabel to the jaileress, "that they don't hang
+women in chains now. I am glad of that. But where will I be buried?
+Do you think it could be contrived that if my baby were to die at
+some time after me it might be laid at my side? That is the only
+thing I now desire--and that--oh! I think I could be happy if I
+were promised that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+BEFORE THE JUDGE.
+
+
+Previous to the Assizes, Joe Filmer arrived in Kingston in a trap
+drawn by old Clutch. He was admitted into the prison on his
+expressing his desire to see Mehetabel.
+
+After the first salutations were passed, Joe proceeded to business.
+"You see, Matabel," said he, "the master don't want you to think
+he won't help you out o' this little mess you've got into. But he
+don't want Polly to know it. The master, he's won'erful under that
+young woman's--I can't say thumb, but say her big toe. So if he
+does wot he does about you, it's through me, and he'll sit
+innercent like by the fire twiddlin' of his thumbs, and talkin'
+of the weather. Master would be crafty as an old fox if he weren't
+stupid as an owl. I can't think how he can have allowed himself to
+get so much into Polly's power. It is so; and when he wants to do
+a thing without her knowin', he has to do it underhand ways. Well,
+he thort if he let our 'oss and trap go, as Polly'd be suspectin'
+something, and Polly's terrible set against you. So he told me to
+take a holiday and visit a dyin' aunt, and borrow old Clutch and a
+trap from the Angel at Gorlmyn. Clutch have been there all along,
+ever since your affair. There's no keepin' him away. So I came
+here; and won'erful slow Clutch was. When I came to Kingston I put
+up at the Sun, and sez I to the ostler: Be there a good lawyer
+hereabouts, think you? 'Well,' sez he, 'I'm a stranger to Kingston.
+I were born and bred at Cheam, but I was ostler first in Chertsey,
+and then for six months at Twickenham. But there's a young woman
+I'm courtin', I think she does the washin' for a soort of a lawyer
+chap, and I'll ax she at my dinner time.' So he did, and he came
+back and told me as the gal sed her master was a lawyer. She didn't
+think much of the missus, she was mean about perquisates, but the
+master was decent enough, and never came pokin into the kitchen
+except when he wanted to have his socks dried. So I reckon he'll do
+the job for you. Well, I gave that there ostler threepence, and
+axed him to do me the favor of tellin' that there lawyer that I'd
+be glad to stand him a glass o' ale if he'd step over to the bar
+of the Angel. I'd got a bit of business I wanted to consult him
+about. Well, he came, affable enough, and I told him all--as how I
+wanted him to defend you, and get you out of this tidy hobble you
+was in, and wot it 'ud cost. Then he thought a bit, and said that
+he could get up the case, but must engage counsel. He was only a
+turnkey, or some name like that; I sed, sed I, he was to manage
+all, and he might take it or lump it on these terms: Five and
+twenty pounds if he got you off clear, and if he didn't, and you
+was hanged, then nuthin'."
+
+Joe smiled and rubbed his hands in self-satisfaction. Then he
+continued: "You know the master stands behind me. He'll find the
+money, so long as Polly don't know; but he thort, and so does I,
+as it could be done cheapest if I took it on me. So I sed to the
+lawyer chap, who was makin' faces as if he'd got a herrin' bone in
+his teeth, sez I, 'I'm nort but an ostler in a little country inn,
+and it's not to be supposed I've much savin's. Nor is Matabel any
+relation, only she wos maid in the inn whilst I wos ostlin', so I
+feels a sort o' a likin' for the girl, and I don't mind standin'
+five and twenty pound to get her off. More I can't give.' That,
+Matabel, was gammon. The master wouldn't stick at five and twenty,
+but he told me to try on this little game. He's deep is the master,
+for, all the innercence he puts on. I said to the ostler I'd give
+him half-a-crown for the gal as washes, as she introduced me to the
+lawyer. That there turnkey, as he calls himself, he sez he must get
+the counsel, and I sez, that, of course, and it comes out of the
+five and twenty. Then he made more faces, but I stuck to it, and I
+believe he'll do it. He axed me about particulars, and I sed he wos
+to consult you. The master sed that durin' the trial I wos to be
+nigh the lawyer, and if he seemed to flag at all I wos to say,
+'Another five pound, old ginger, if you gets her off.' So I think
+we shall manage it, and Polly be never the wiser."
+
+The Assizes began. Mehetabel, in her prison, could hear the church
+bells ring merry peals to welcome the judge. She was in sore anxiety
+about the child, that had failed greatly of late. The trouble in
+which its mother had been involved had told on its never strong
+constitution. Even had she been occupied with her own defence and
+ultimate fate, the condition of the babe imperiously demanded that
+the main solicitude of its mother should be devoted to it, to still
+its cries, to relieve its pains, to lull it to necessary sleep.
+
+When Mahetabel knew that she was in a few minutes to be summoned to
+answer in court for her life, she hung over the little sufferer,
+clasped it and its crib in her arms, and laid her cheek beside its
+fevered face on the pillow. She could rest in no other position. If
+she left the child, it was to pace the cell--if she turned her
+thoughts to her defence, she was called back by a peevish cry to
+consider the infant.
+
+When finally summoned to the court she committed the babe to the
+friendly and worthy jaileress, who undertook to care for it to the
+best of her abilities. The appearance of Mehetabel in the court
+produced at once a favorable impression. Her beauty, her youth, the
+sweetness and pathos of expression in her intelligent face, and the
+modesty with which she bore the stare of the crowd, sent a wave of
+sympathy through all present, and stirred pity in every heart. When
+Mehetabel had recovered the confusion and alarm into which she was
+thrown by finding herself in the dock with heads all about her, eyes
+fixed upon her, and mouths whispering comments, she timidly looked
+up and around.
+
+She saw the judge in his robes under the Royal arms, the barristers,
+in gowns and wigs, she looked in the direction of the jury,
+and with a start recognized one amongst them. By a strange chance
+Iver Verstage had been chosen as one of the petty jury, and the
+prosecution not suspecting that he was in any way mixed up in the
+matter before the court, not knowing that he was acquainted with
+the prisoner, that he came from the neighborhood of the scene of
+the murder, suffered him to pass unchallenged. Iver did not turn
+his face her way, and avoided meeting her eye.
+
+Then she saw Joe Filmer's honest countenance; he sought what Iver
+avoided, and greeted her with a smile and a nod.
+
+There was one more present whom Mehetabel recognized, and that in
+spite of his wig. She saw in the barrister who was to act as
+counsel in the prosecution that same young man who had insulted
+her on the dam of the Hammer Pond.
+
+There was little fresh evidence produced beyond that elicited
+before the magistrates. Almost the only new matter was what was
+drawn from the two Rocliffes relative to the conversation that
+had passed between the prisoner and the deceased previous to his
+death. But neither father nor son could give a clear account, and
+they contradicted each other and themselves. But both were confident
+as to Mehetabel having struck Jonas on the head.
+
+The counsel for the defence was able to make a point here. According
+to their account they were in a lane, the level of which was
+considerably lower than that of the field in which the altercation
+took place. There was a hedge of holly intervening. Now holly does
+not lose its leaves in winter. Holly does not grow in straggling
+fashion, but densely. How were these two men able to see through
+so close a screen? Moreover, if they could see the prisoner then
+it was obvious she could see them, and was it likely that she would
+strike her husband before their eyes. Neither Samuel nor Thomas
+Rocliffe was able to explain how he saw through a hedge of holly,
+but he had no hesitation in saying that see he did. They were both
+looking and had chosen a spot where a view was possible, and that
+Mehetabel did not know they were present was almost certain, as
+she was looking at Jonas all the while and not in their direction.
+The counsel was disappointed, he had hoped to make much of this
+point.
+
+Mehetabel was uneasy when she noticed now that the bewigged young
+man who had spoken with her at the Hammer Pond labored to bring
+out from the witnesses' admissions that would tell against her.
+He was not content with the particulars of the death of Jonas, he
+went back to the marriage of Mehetabel, and to her early history.
+He forced from the Rocliffes, father and son, and also from Colpus
+and his daughter the statement that when Mehetabel had been told
+her husband was dead she had laughed.
+
+Up to this the feeling of all in court had been unmistakably in her
+favor, but now, as in the petty sessions, the knowledge that she
+had laughed turned the current of sympathy from her.
+
+When all the evidence had been produced, then the counsel for the
+prosecution stood up and addressed the court. The case, said he,
+was a peculiarly painful one, for it exhibited the blackest
+ingratitude in one who owed, he might say, everything to the
+deceased. As the court had heard--the accused had been brought
+up in a small wayside tavern, the resort of sailors on their way
+between London and Portsmouth, where she had served in the capacity
+of barmaid, giving drink to the low fellows who frequented the
+public-house, and he need hardly say that such a bringing up must
+kill all the modesty, morality, sense of self-respect and common
+decency out of a young girl's mind. She was good-looking, and had
+been the object of familiarities from the drunken vagabonds who
+passed and repassed along the road, and stayed to slake their
+thirst, and bandy jokes with the pretty barmaid. From this situation
+she had been rescued by Jonas Kink, a substantial farmer. Having
+been a foundling she had no name. She had been brought up at the
+parish expense, and had no relatives either to curb her propensities
+for evil, or to withdraw her from a situation in which no young
+woman, he ventured to say, could spend her early years without
+moral degradation. It might almost be asserted that Jonas Kink,
+the deceased, had lifted this unfortunate creature from the gutter.
+He had given her his name, he had given her a home. He had treated
+her with uniform kindness--no evidence had been produced that he
+had ever maltreated her. On the contrary, as the widow Chivers had
+admitted--the prisoner said herself that the deceased had never
+struck her with a stick. That there had been quarrels he freely
+admitted, that the deceased had spoken sharply was not to be
+denied. But he asked: What husband would endure that the young
+wife who was indebted to him for everything, should resume her
+light and reprehensible conduct, or should show inclination to
+do so, after he had made her his own? No doubt whatever that the
+prisoner at the bar felt the monotony of a farmhouse irksome
+after the lively existence in a public house. No doubt she missed
+the society of topers, and their tipsy familiarities. But was
+that reason why she should kill her husband?
+
+He believed that he had been able to show that this murder had
+been planned; that the prisoner had provided herself with the
+implement wherewith it was her purpose to rid herself of the
+husband who was distasteful to her. With deliberate intention to
+free herself, she had waited to catch him alone, and where she
+believed she was unobserved. The jury must consider how utterly
+degraded a woman must be to compass the death of the man to whom
+she had sworn eternal fidelity and love. A woman who could do this
+was not one who should be suffered to live; she was a scandal to
+her sex; she dishonored humanity.
+
+The counsel proceeded to say: "Gentlemen of the jury, I have
+anxiously looked about for some excuses, something that might
+extenuate the atrocity of this crime. I have found none. The man
+who steals bread to support his starving children must suffer
+under the law for what he has done. Can you allow to go free a
+woman, because young, who has wilfully, wantonly, and deliberately
+compassed the murder of her husband, merely, as far as we can
+judge, because he stood in her way pointing the direction to
+morality and happiness. Whatever may be said in defence of this
+unfortunate prisoner now on her trial, gentlemen of the jury, do
+not mistake your office. You are not here to excuse crime and to
+forgive criminals, but to judge them with justice. Do not be
+swayed by any false feeling of commiseration because of the sex
+and youth of the accused. Remember that a wife guilty of the
+murder of her husband, who is allowed to run free, encourages
+all others, possibly even your own, to rid themselves of their
+husbands, whenever they resent a look or a word of reproach. I
+will lose no more words, but demand a sentence of guilty against
+Mehetabel Kink."
+
+The young mother had hardly been able to endure the sense of shame
+that overwhelmed her during the progress of the speech of the
+counsel. Flushes of crimson swept through her face, at his
+insinuations and statements affecting her character, and then the
+color faded leaving her deadly white. This was an agony of death
+worse than the gallows. She could have cried out, "Take my life--but
+spare me this dishonor."
+
+Joe Filmer looked troubled and alarmed; he worked his way to the
+back of the bench, where sat the counsel for the defence, and
+said: "Old Crock, five guineas--ten, if you'll get her off. Five
+from the master, and five from me. And I'll kick that rascal who
+has just spoken, as he comes out; I will, be Jiggers!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE VERDICT.
+
+
+When the counsel for the defense stood up, Mehetabel raised her
+shame-stricken face. This man, she knew, would speak a good word
+for her--had he not done so already? Had not all his efforts been
+directed towards getting out of the witnesses something favorable
+to her, and to showing contradictions in their statements which
+told against her?
+
+But she looked timidly towards him, and dared not meet the glances
+of the crowd in the court. What must they think of her--that she
+was an abandoned woman without self-restraint; a disgrace to her
+sex, as that young barrister had said.
+
+Again, it must be said, she was accustomed to injustice. She had
+been unfairly treated by Susanna Verstage. She had met with cruel
+wrong from her husband. By the whole of the Punch-Bowl she had been
+received without generosity, without that openness of mind which
+should have been manifested towards a stranger claiming its
+hospitality. She had not received the kindness that was her due
+from her sister-in-law. Even the well-disposed Joe Filmer believed
+her to be guilty of murder. But perhaps she could have borne all
+this better than the wounding insults offered her by the counsel
+for the prosecution, blasting her character before the world.
+
+The barrister engaged to defend her did his utmost, and did it with
+ability. He charged the jury not to be deceived into believing that
+this was a case of premeditated murder, even if they were satisfied
+that Jonas had been killed by the stone carried by the defendant.
+
+As he had brought out by the evidence of the widow Betty Chivers,
+and by that of the surgeon, the prisoner had been off her head,
+and was not responsible for what she said or did. What more likely
+then that she raved in delirium when she asserted that she would
+kill her husband, and what more evident token of having her brain
+overbalanced than that she should be running about the country
+hiding in caves, carrying her child with her, under the impression
+that her husband desired to take it from her, and perhaps do it an
+injury. That was not the conduct of a sane woman. Why should a
+father seek to rob her of her child? Could he suckle it? Did he
+want to be encumbered with an unweaned infant? Then as to the
+alleged murder. Was the testimony of the two men, Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, worth a rush? Was not this Thomas a fool, who had been
+enveigled into a marriage with a tramp who called herself a
+countess? Did he not show when under cross-examination that he was
+a man of limited intelligence? And was his son Samuel much better?
+There was a dense holly hedge betwixt them and the prisoner. He
+put it to any candid person, who can see so clearly through a
+holly bush as to be able to distinguish the action of parties on
+the further side? These two witnesses had fallen into contradiction
+as to what they had heard said, through the holly hedge, and it was
+much easier to hear than to see athwart such an obstruction.
+
+There was enough to account for the death of Jonas Kink without
+having recourse to the theory of murder. He had received a blow
+on his head, but he had received more blows than one; when a man
+falls backwards and falls down into a kiln that yawns behind him
+he would strike his head against the side more than once, and with
+sufficient force to break in his skull and kill him. How could they
+be sure that he was not killed by a blow against the bricks of the
+kiln edge? The accused had charged the deceased with having tried
+to murder her baby. That was what both the witnesses had agreed
+in, though one would have it she had asserted he tried to poison
+it, and the other that he had endeavored to strangle it. Such a
+charge was enough to surprise a father, and no wonder that he
+started back, and in starting back fell into the kiln, the existence
+of which he had forgotten if he ever knew of it. He the counsel,
+entreated the jury not to be led away by appearances, but to weigh
+the evidence and to pronounce as their verdict not guilty.
+
+No sooner had he seated himself than he was nudged in the back,
+and Joe Filmer said, in a loud whisper, "Famous! Shake hands, and
+have a drop o' Hollands." Then the ostler thrust forward a bottle
+that had been in his pocket. "It's first-rate stuff," he said. "The
+master gave it me."
+
+The Judge summed up and charged the jury. As Joe Filmer described
+his address afterwards, "He said that there were six things again'
+her, and about a half-a-dozen for her; there was evidence as went
+one road and evidence as went t'other way. That she was either
+guilty or not guilty, and the gem'men of the jury was to please
+themselves and say wot they liked."
+
+Thereupon the jury withdrew.
+
+Now when the twelve men were in the room to which they had retired,
+then the foreman said:--"Well, gents, what do you think now? You
+give us your opinion, Mr. Quittenden."
+
+"Then, sir," answered the gentleman addressed, an upholsterer. "I
+should say 'ang 'er. It won't do, in my opinion, to let wives think
+they can play old Harry with their 'usbands. What the gentleman
+said as acted in the prosecution was true as gospel. It won't do
+for us to be soft heads and let our wives think they can massacre
+us with impunity. Women ain't reasonin' creatures, they're hanimals
+of impulse, and if one of us comes 'ome with a drop too much, or
+grumbles at the children bein' spoiled, then, I say, if our wives
+think they can do it and get let off they'll up wi' the flat iron
+and brain us. I say guilty. Ang 'er."
+
+"Well, sir," said the foreman, "that's your judgment. Now let us
+hear what Josias Kingerle has to say."
+
+"Sir," said the gentleman addressed, who was in the tannery
+business, "if she weren't so good-lookin' I'd say let her off."
+
+As an expression of surprise found utterance Mr. Kingerle proceeded
+to explain.
+
+"You see, gentlemen of the jury, and you, Mr. Foreman, I have a
+wife, and that good lady was in court, an' kept her eye on me all
+the time like a rattlesnake. I couldn't steal a peep at the prisoner
+but she was shakin' of her parasol handle at me, and though she
+didn't say it with words yet I read it in her eye, 'Now then, Josiah,
+none o' your games and gushes of pity over pretty gals.' It's as
+much as my domestic felicity is worth, gentlemen, to say not guilty.
+My wife would say, and your wives would all say, 'O yes! very fine.
+Because she was 'andsome you have acquitted her. Had we--' I'm
+speakin' as if it was our wives addressin' of us, gentlemen--'Had
+we been in the dock, or had there been an ugly woman, you would
+have said guilty at once.' So for peace and quietness I say guilty.
+'Ang 'er."
+
+"Well, Mr. Kingerle," said the foreman, "that is your opinion; you
+agree with Mr. Quittenden. Now then, what say you, Mr. Wrist?"
+
+The juryman addressed was a stout and heavy man. He stretched his
+short legs, seated himself in his chair, and after a long pause
+said, "I don't know as I care particular, as far as I'm concerned.
+But it's better in my opinion to hang her, even if innocent, than
+let her off. It's setting an example, a fine one, to the wimen. I
+agree with Mr. Quittenden, and say--guilty. 'Ang 'er.'
+
+"Now then, Mr. Sanson."
+
+"I," answered a timid little apothecary, "I wouldn't wish to differ
+from any one. I had rather you passed me over now, and just asked
+the rest. Then I'll fall in with the general division."
+
+"Very well, then--and you, Mr. Sniggins."
+
+"I am rayther hard of hearing," answered that gentleman, "and I
+didn't catch all that was said in evidence, and then I had a bad
+night. I'd taken some lobster last evening, and it didn't agree
+with me, and I couldn't sleep, and it was rayther hot in the court,
+and I just closed my eyes now and again, and what with being hard
+of hearing and closing my eyes, I'm not very well up in the case,
+but I say--guilty. 'Ang 'er."
+
+"And you, Mr.--I beg your pardon, I did not catch your name."
+
+"Verstage."
+
+"Not a Kingston gent?"
+
+"Oh, no, from Guildford,"
+
+"What say you, sir?"
+
+"I--emphatically, not guilty." Iver threw himself back in his
+chair, extended his legs, and thrust his hands into his trouser
+pockets. "The whole thing is rank nonsense. How could a woman with
+a baby in her arms knock a man down? You try, gents, any one of
+you--take your last born, and whilst nursing it, attempt to pull
+your wife's nose. You can't do it. The thing is obvious." He looked
+round with assurance. "The man was a curmudgeon. He misused her.
+He was in bad circumstances through the failure of the Wealden
+Bank. He wanted money, and the child had just had a fortune left
+it--something a little under two hundred pounds."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked the foreman. "That didn't come out
+in evidence."
+
+"P'raps you shut your ears, as Mr. Sniggins shut his peepers.
+P'raps it came out, p'raps it didn't. But it's true all the same.
+And the fellow wanted the money. Matabel--I mean the prisoner at
+the bar thought--rightly or wrongly matters not--that he wished
+for the death of his child, and she ran away. She was not crazy;
+she was resolved to protect her child. She swore that she would
+defend it. That Giles Cheel and Mrs. Rocliffe said. What mother
+would not do the same? As for those two men, Thomas and Samuel
+Rocliffe, they never saw her knock down Jonas Kink, for the good
+reason that she was holding the baby, and couldn't do it. But
+when she told him, he was seeking his child's life--all for the
+money left it--then he stumbled back, and fell into the kiln--not
+guilty. If I sit here till I starve you all--not guilty."
+
+"But, sir, what you state did not come out in the evidence."
+
+"Did it not? So much the worse for the case. It wasn't properly got
+up. I'll tell you what, gents, if you and me can't agree, then
+after a time the jury will be dismissed, and the whole case will
+have to be tried again. Then the evidence will come up that you
+think you haven't heard now, and she'll be acquitted, and every
+one will say of this jury--that we were a parcel of noodles."
+
+"Well, sir, not guilty," said the foreman. "What do you say, Mr.
+Lilliwhite?"
+
+"Sir," answered the gentleman addressed, "I'd like to know what
+the cost to the county will be of an execution. I say it can't be
+done under a hundred pounds, if you calculate the carpentering and
+the timber, and the fees, and the payment of the constables to keep
+order, and of the hangman. I say it ain't worth it. There'll be
+another farthing stuck on the rates, all along of this young woman.
+I'm again' it. Not guilty. Let 'er go."
+
+"And I," said the next juryman, "am averse to capital punishment. I
+wrote a little tract on the subject. I do not know if any of you
+gentlemen have seen it. I have copies in my pocket. I shall be happy
+to present each of you with a copy. I couldn't possibly say guilty
+and deliver her over to a violent death, without controverting my
+published opinions, and, so to speak, stultifying myself. So,
+really, sir, I must positively say not guilty, and would say as
+much on behalf of the most ferocious murderer, of Blue Beard
+himself, rather than admit anything which might lead to a sentence
+of capital punishment. Not guilty."
+
+Nearly an hour and a half elapsed before the jury returned to the
+court. It was clear that there had been differences of opinion,
+and some difficulty in overcoming these, and bringing all the
+twelve, if not to one mind, at all events to one voice.
+
+A silence fell on the whole court.
+
+Mehetabel who had been allowed a seat, rose, and stood pale as
+death, with her eyes fixed on the jurymen, as they filed in.
+
+The foreman stepped forward, and said: "We find the prisoner not
+guilty."
+
+Then, in the stillness with which the verdict was received,
+Mehetabel's voice was heard, tremulous and pleading. She had
+dropped a curtsey, and said, "Thank you, gentlemen." Then turning
+to the judge, and again dropping a curtsey, she raised her eyes
+timidly, modestly, to the judge, and said, "Please, sir, may I go
+to my baby?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+WELCOME.
+
+
+Mehetabel was not able to leave Kingston for several days. Her child
+was too ill to bear the journey to Thursley; and the good-natured
+jailer's wife kindly urged her to remain as her guest till she
+thought that the little being might be removed with safety. Joe
+Filmer would drive her back, and Joe consented to tarry. He had
+business to discharge, the settlement of the account with the
+solicitor, or turnkey as he called him, to haggle over the sum,
+and try to get him to abate a sovereign because paid in ready money.
+He had also to satisfy the girl who had recommended the attorney,
+and the ostler who had consulted the girl, and old Clutch, who
+having found his quarters agreeable at the stable of the Sun, was
+disinclined to depart, and pretended that he had the strangles, and
+coughed himself into convulsions. At length, towards the end of the
+week, Mehetabel thought the child was easier, and Joe having
+satisfied all parties to whom he was indebted, and Clutch having
+been denied his food unless he came forth and allowed himself to
+be harnessed, Mehetabel departed from Kingston, on her return
+journey.
+
+The pace at which old Clutch moved was slow, the slightest elevation
+in the ground gave him an excuse for a walk, and he turned his head
+inquiringly from side to side as he went along, to observe the
+scenery. If he passed a hedge, or a field in which was a horse,
+he persisted in standing still and neighing. Whereupon the beast
+addressed, perhaps at the plough, perhaps a hunter turned out to
+graze, responded, and till the conversation in reciprocal neighs
+had concluded to the satisfaction of the mind of Clutch, that
+venerable steed refused to proceed.
+
+"I suppose you've heard about Betty Chivers?" said Joe.
+
+"About Betty! What?"
+
+"She got a bad chill at the trial, or maybe coming to it; and she
+is not returned to Thursley. I heard she was gone to her sister,
+who married a joiner at Chertsey, for a bit o' a change, and to be
+nussed. Poor thing, she took on won'erful about your little affair.
+So you'll not see her at Thursley."
+
+"I am sorry for that," said Mehetabel, "and most sorry that I have
+caused her inconvenience, and that she is ill through me."
+
+"I heard her say it was damp sheets, and not you at all. Old wimen
+are won'erful tender, more so than gals. And, of course, you've
+heard about Iver."
+
+"Iver! What of Iver?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheek.
+
+"Well, Mister Colpus, he had a talk wi' Iver about matters at the
+Ship. He told him that the girl Polly were gettin' the upper hand
+in everythin', and that if he didn't look smart and interfere she'd
+be marryin' the old chap right off on end, and gettin' him to leave
+everythin' to her, farm and public house and all his savings.
+Though she's an innercent lookin' wench, and wi' a head like a
+suet puddin' she knows how to get to the blind side of the master,
+and though she's terrible at breakages, she is that smooth-tongued
+that she can get him to believe that the fault lies everywhere else
+but at her door. So Iver, he said he'd go off to Thursley at once,
+and send Polly to the right-abouts. And a very good thing too. I'll
+be glad to see the back of her. 'Twas a queer thing now, Iver
+gettin' on to jury, weren't it?"
+
+"Yes, Joe, I was surprised."
+
+"I reckon the Rocliffes didn't half like it, but they made no
+complaint to the lawyer, and so he didn't think there was aught
+amiss. You see, the Rocliffes be won'erful ignorant folk. If that
+blackguard lawyer chap as sed what he sed about you had known who
+Iver was, he'd have turned him out. That insolent rascal. I sed I'd
+punish him. I will. They told me he comes fishin' to the Frensham
+Ponds and Pudmoor. He stays at the Hut Inn. I'll be in waitin' for
+him next time, and give him a duckin' in them ponds, see if I don't."
+
+The journey home was not to be made in a day when old Clutch was
+concerned, and it had to be broken at Guildford. Moreover, at
+Godalming it was interrupted by the obstinacy of the horse,
+which--whether through revival of latent sentiment toward the
+gray mare, or through conviction that he had done enough, refused
+to proceed, and lay down in the shafts in the middle of the road.
+Happily he did this with such deliberation, and after having
+announced his intention so unequivocally, that Mehetabel was able
+to escape out of the taxcart with her baby unhurt.
+
+"It can't be helped," said Joe Filmer, "we'll never move him out
+but by levers; what will you do, Matabel? Walk on or wait?"
+
+Mehetabel elected to proceed on foot. The distance was five miles.
+She would have to carry her child, but the babe was not a heavy
+weight. Gladly would she have carried it twice the distance if
+only it were more solid and a greater burden. The hands were almost
+transparent, the face as wax, and the nose unduly sharp for an
+infant of such a tender age.
+
+"I daresay," said Joe aside, "that if I can blind old Clutch and
+turn him round so that he don't know his bearin's, that I may get
+him up and to run along, thinkin' he's on his way back to Gorlmyn.
+But he's deep--terrible deep."
+
+Accordingly Mehetabel walked on, and walked for nearly two hours
+without being overtaken. She reached that point of the main road
+whence a way diverges on the right to the village of Thursley,
+whereas the Ship Inn lies a little further forward on the highway.
+She purposed going to the dame's schoolhouse, to ascertain whether
+Mrs. Chivers had returned. If she had not, then Mehetabel did not
+know what she should do, whither she should go. Return to the
+Punch-Bowl she would not. Anything was preferable to that. The
+house of Jonas Kink was associated with thoughts of wretchedness,
+and she could not endure to enter it again.
+
+She reached the cottage and found it locked. She applied at the
+house of the nearest neighbor, to learn whether Betty Chivers was
+expected home shortly, and also whether she had left the key. She
+was told that news had reached Thursley that the schoolmistress
+was still unwell, and the neighbor added, that on leaving, Betty
+had carried the key of the cottage with her.
+
+"May I sit down?" asked Mehetabel; her brow was bathed in
+perspiration, and her knees were shaking under her, whilst her
+arms ached and seemed to have lost the power to hold the precious
+burden any longer. "I have walked from Gorlmyn," she explained;
+"and can you tell me where I can be taken in for a night or two.
+I have a little money, and will pay for my lodgings."
+
+The woman drew her lips together and signed to a chair. Presently
+she said in a restrained voice: "That there baby is feverish, and
+my man has had a hard day's work and wants his rest at night, and
+though 'tis true we have a spare room, yet I don't see as we can
+accommodate you. So they let you off--up at Kingston?"
+
+"Yes, I was let off," answered Mehetabel, faintly.
+
+"Hardly reckoned on it, I s'pose. Most folks sed as you'd swing
+for it. You mustn't try on them games again, or you won't be so
+lucky next time. The carpenter, Puttenham, has a bed at liberty,
+but whether he'll take you in I don't know."
+
+Mehetabel rose, and went to the cottage of the wheelwright. The
+man himself was in his shop. She applied to his wife.
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Puttenham. "They say you was off your
+head when you did it. How can I tell you're right in your intellecks
+now? You see, 'twould be mighty unpleasant to have anything happen
+to either Puttenham or me, if we crossed you in any way. I don't
+feel inclined to risk it. I mind when owd Sammy Drewitt was daft.
+They did up a sort of a black hole, and stuck he in, and fed him
+through a kind of a winder in the side, and they had the place
+cleaned out once a month, and fresh straw littered for him to lie
+on. Folk sed he ort to ha' been chained to the wall, but they
+didn't do that. He never managed to break through the door. They
+found him dead there one winter mornin' when the Hammer Ponds was
+froze almost a solid block. I reckon there's been nobody in that
+place since. The constable might send a man, and scrape it out,
+and accommodate you there. It's terrible dangerous havin' a maniac
+at large. Sammy Drewitt made a won'erful great noise, howlin' when
+the moon was nigh full, and folk as lived near couldn't sleep then.
+But he never knocked nobody on the head, as I've heard tell. I don't
+mind givin' you a cup o' tea, and some bread and butter, if you'll
+be quiet, and not break out and be uproarious. If you don't fancy
+the lock-up, there is a pound for strayed cattle. I reckon of that
+Mister Colpus keeps the key--that is if it be locked, but mostly
+it be open. But then there's no roof to that."
+
+Mehetabel declined the refreshment offered her so ungraciously,
+and went to the cottage of Mrs. Caesar, the mother of Julia who
+had been dismissed from the service of Mr. Colpus.
+
+Of her she made the same request as of the two last.
+
+"I call that pretty much like cheek, I do," replied Mrs. Caesar.
+"Didn't you go and try to get into Colpus's, and oust my daughter?"
+
+"Indeed, indeed, I did not."
+
+"Indeed, you did. I heard all about it, as how you wanted to be
+took in at Colpus's when Julia was out."
+
+"But Mrs. Caesar, that isn't ousting her. Julia was already
+dismissed!"
+
+"Dismissed! Hoity-toity! My daughter gave notice because she was
+too put upon by them Colpuses. They didn't consider their servants,
+and give 'em enough to eat, and holidays when they wanted to go
+out with their sweethearts. And you had the face to ax to be taken
+there. No, I've no room for you;" and she shut the door of the
+house in Mehetabel's face.
+
+The unhappy girl staggered away with her burden, and sank into a
+hedge. The evening was drawing on, and she must find a house to
+shelter her, or else seek out the cave where she had lodged before.
+
+Then she recalled what Joe Filmer had said--that Iver had returned
+to the Ship. A light flashed through her soul at the thought.
+
+Iver would care for her. He who had been her earliest and dearest
+friend; he, who through all his years of absence, had cherished
+the thought of her; he who had told her that the Ship was no home
+to him without her in it; that he valued Thursley only because
+she lived there; he who had clasped her with his arm, called her
+his own and only one; to him--to him--at last, without guilt,
+without scruples; she could fly to him and say, "Iver, I am driven
+from door to door; no one will receive me. Every one is suspicious
+of me, thinks evil of me. But you--yourself, who have known me
+from infancy--you who baptized me to save me from becoming a
+wanderer--see, a wanderer, homeless, with my poor babe, I come
+to you--do you provide that I may be housed and sheltered. I ask
+not for myself so much as for my little one! To Iver--to Iver--as
+my one refuge, my only hope!"
+
+Then it was as though her heart were light, and her heels winged.
+She sprang up from where she had cast herself, and forgetful of
+her weariness, ran, and stayed not till she had reached the familiar
+porch of the dear old Ship.
+
+And already through the bar window a light shone. The night had
+not set in, yet a light was shining forth, a ray of gold, to
+welcome the wanderer, to draw her in, with promise of comfort
+and of rest.
+
+And there--there in the porch door stood Iver.
+
+"What! Mehetabel! come here--here--after all! Come in at once.
+Welcome! A word together we must have! My little Mehetabel! Welcome!
+Welcome!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+MOVE ON.
+
+
+"Come in, little friend! dear Matabel! come into the kitchen, by
+the fire, and let us have a talk." His voice was cheery, his
+greeting hearty, his manner frank.
+
+He drew her along the passage, and brought her into the little
+kitchen in which that declaration had taken place, the very last
+time she had been within the doors of the inn, and he seated her
+in the settle, the very place she had occupied when he poured out
+his heart to her.
+
+Mehetabel could not speak. Her bosom was too full. Tears sparkled
+in her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. The glow of the peat and wood
+fire was on her face, and gave to it a color it did not in reality
+possess. She tried to say something, but her voice gave way. Half
+laughing in the midst of tears she stammered, "You are good to me,
+Iver."
+
+He took the stool and drew it before the fire that he might look
+up into her agitated face.
+
+"How have you come?" asked he.
+
+"I walked."
+
+"Where from--not Kingston?"
+
+"Oh, no! only from Gorlmyn."
+
+"But that is a long way. And did you carry the child?"
+
+"Yes, Iver! But, oh! he is no weight. You have not seen him. Look
+at him. He is quiet now, but he has been very troublesome; not
+that he could help it, but he has been unwell." With the pride and
+love of a mother she unfolded the wraps that concealed her sleeping
+child, and laid it on her knees. The dancing light fell over it.
+
+Iver drew his stool near, and looked at the infant.
+
+"I am no judge of babies," he said, "but--it is very small."
+
+"It is small, that is why I can carry him. The best goods are
+wrapped in the smallest parcels."
+
+"The child looks very delicate--ill, I should say."
+
+"Oh, no! it has been ill, but is much, much better now. How could
+even a strong child stand all that my precious one has had to go
+through without suffering? But that is over now. Now at length we
+shall have rest and happiness, baby and me, in each other." Then
+catching the child to her heart, she rocked herself, and with
+tears of love flowing, sang--
+
+  "Thou art my sceptre, crown and all."
+
+She laid the child again on her lap and sat looking at it admiringly
+in the rosy light of the fire that suffused it. As the flames had
+given to her cheek a fictitious color, so did they now give to the
+infant a glow as of health that it did not actually possess.
+
+"You must be tired," said Iver.
+
+"I am tired; see how my limbs shake. That is why my baby trembles;
+but as for my arms, they are past tiredness, they are just one
+dead ache from the shoulder to the wrist."
+
+"Are you hungry, Matabel?"
+
+"Oh, no! All I want is rest, rest. I am weary."
+
+Presently she asked, "Where is father?"
+
+"He is away. Gone to the Dye House to see a cow that is bad. They
+sent for him, to have his opinion. Father is thought a great
+authority on cows."
+
+"And Polly?"
+
+"Oh! Polly," laughed Iver, "she's bundled off. Father has borne it
+like a philosopher. I believe in his heart he is rather pleased
+that I should have turned her neck and crop off the premises. It
+was high time. She had mastered the old man, and could make him
+do what she pleased."
+
+"Whom have you got in her place?"
+
+"Julia Caesar. She was sent away from the Colpuses for drawing the
+beer too freely. Well, here she can draw it whenever there are men
+who ask for drink, so she will be in her proper element. But she
+is only a stop gap. I engaged her because there really was for the
+moment no one else available, but she goes as soon as we can find
+a better."
+
+"Will you take me?" asked Mehetabel, with a smile, and with some
+confidence that she would be gladly accepted.
+
+"We shall see--there is another place for you, Matabel," said Iver.
+"Now let us talk of something else. Was it not a piece of rare good
+luck that I was stuck on the jury? Do you know, I believe all would
+have gone wrong but for me. I put my foot down and said, 'Not
+guilty,' and would not budge. The rest were almost all inclined to
+give against you, Matabel, but there was a fellow with a wist in
+his stupid noddle against capital punishment. He was just as
+resolute as I was, and between us, we worked the rest round to
+our way of thinking. But I should like to know the truth about it
+all, for it is marvellous to me."
+
+"There is nothing for me to say, Iver," answered Matabel, "but
+that some words I uttered made Jonas spring back, and neither
+he nor I knew that there was a kiln behind, it was so overgrown
+with brambles, and he fell down that."
+
+"And you laughed."
+
+"Oh, Iver! I don't know what I did. I was so frightened, and my
+head was so much in a whirl that I remember nothing more. You do
+not really think that I laughed."
+
+"They all said you did."
+
+"Iver, you know me too well to believe that I was other than
+frightened out of my wits. There are times when a laugh comes
+because the tears will not break out--it is a gasp of pain, of
+horror, nothing more. I remember, at my confirmation, when the
+Bishop laid his hands on us, that the girl beside me laughed; but
+it was only that she was feeling more than she could give token
+of any other way."
+
+"That's like enough," said Iver, and taking the poker he put the
+turf together to make it blaze; "I say, Matabel, they tell me that
+Jonas was a bad loser by the smash of the Wealden Bank, and that
+he was about to mortgage his little place. Of course, that is
+yours now--or belongs to the young shaver. There are a hundred
+pounds my mother left, and fifty given by my father, that I hold,
+and I don't mind doing anything in reason with it to prevent
+having the property get into the lawyer's hands. I wouldn't do
+it for Jonas; but I will for you or the shaver. Shall you manage
+the farm yourself? If I were you I would get Joe Filmer to do that.
+He's a good chap, honest as daylight, and worships you."
+
+"I don't know or think anything about that," said Mehetabel.
+
+"But you must do so. The Rocliffes have invaded the place, so my
+father says. They took possession directly Jonas was dead, and
+they are treating the farm as if it were their own. You are going
+to the Punch-Bowl at once, and I will assert your rights."
+
+"I am not going to the Punch-Bowl again," said Mehetabel, decisively.
+
+"You must. You have no other home."
+
+"That can be no home to me."
+
+"But--where are you going to live?"
+
+"I ask--" she looked at Iver with something of entreaty in her
+eyes--"May I not come and be servant here? I will do my duty, you
+need not doubt that."
+
+"I have no doubt about that," he answered. "But--but--" he hesitated,
+and probed the fire again, "you see, Matabel, it wouldn't do."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, there are three or four reasons."
+
+She looked steadily at him, awaiting more.
+
+"In the first place," he said, with a little confusion, "there has
+been much chatter about me being on the jury, and some folk say
+that but for me you'd have been found guilty, and--" He did not
+complete the sentence. He had knocked a burning turf down on the
+hearth. He took the tongs, picked it up and replaced it. "I won't
+say there is not some truth in that. But that is not all, Matabel.
+I'm going to give up Guildford and live here."
+
+"You are!" Her eyes brightened.
+
+"Yes, at the Ship. For one thing, I am sick of giving lessons to
+noodles. More than half of those who take lessons are as incapable
+of making any progress as a common duck is of soaring to the
+clouds. It's drudgery giving lessons to such persons. The only
+pictures they turn out that are fit to be looked at are such as
+the master has drawn and corrected and finished off for them. I'll
+have no more of that."
+
+"I am glad, Iver. Then you will be with the dear old father."
+
+"Yes. He wants some one here to keep an eye on him. But, just
+because I shall be here, it is not possible for you to be in the
+house. There has been too much talk, you know, about us. And this
+matter of my being on the jury has made the talk more loud and
+unpleasant for me. I shall have to be on my P's and Q's, Mattie;
+and I doubt if I am acting judiciously for myself in bringing you
+into the house now. However, it is only for an hour, and the maid
+Julia is out, and father is at the Dye House, and no one was in
+the road; so I thought I might risk it. But, of course, you can't
+remain. You must go."
+
+"I must go! What, now?"
+
+"I won't hurry you for another ten minutes, but under the
+circumstances I cannot allow you to remain. There is more behind,
+Matabel. I have got engaged to Polly Colpus!"
+
+"Engaged--to Polly Colpus?"
+
+"Yes. You see she is the only child of James Colpus, and will have
+his land, which adjoins ours, and several thousand pounds as well.
+Her mother left her something, and her father has been a saving
+man; so I could not do better for myself. I have got tired of
+teaching imbeciles to draw and daub. You see, I knew nothing about
+a farm, but father will manage that, and when he is too infirm and
+old, then Mr. Colpus will work it along with his own, and save me
+the trouble. Polly is clever and manages very well, and I can trust
+her to govern the Ship and make money out of that. So my idea is to
+be here when I like, and when tired of being in the country, to go
+to London and sell my pictures, or amuse myself. With the farm and
+the inn I shall be free to do that without the worry of giving
+lessons. So you understand that not only must I avoid any scandal
+among the neighbors by harboring you here, but I must not make
+Polly Colpus jealous; and she might become that, and break off
+the engagement were you taken into the house. She is a good girl,
+and amiable, but might become suspicious. There are so many
+busybodies in a little place, and the smaller the place is the
+more meddlesome people are. It would not do for my engagement to
+be broken through any such an injudicious act on my part, and I
+should never forgive myself for having given occasion for the
+rupture. Consequently, as is plain as a pike-staff, we cannot
+possibly take you into the Ship. Not even for to-night. As for
+receiving you as a servant here, that is out of the question. There
+is really no place for you but the Punch-Bowl."
+
+"I will not go back to the Punch-Bowl," said Mehetabel, her heart
+sinking.
+
+"That is unreasonable. It is your natural home."
+
+"I will not go back. I said so when I ran away. Nothing will induce
+me to return."
+
+"Then I wash my hands of all concerning you," said Iver, irritably.
+"There really seems to be ill-luck attending you, and affecting all
+with whom you are brought in touch. Your husband--he is dead, and
+now you try to jeopardize my fortunes. 'Pon my word, Matabel," he
+stood up. "It cannot be. We are willing enough to take in most
+people here, but under the circumstances cannot receive you."
+
+"The door," said the girl, also rising, "the door was open at one
+time to all but to you. Now it is open to all but to me."
+
+"You must be reasonable, Matabel. I wish you every good in the
+world. You can't do better than take Joe Filmer and make yourself
+happy. Every one in this world must look first to himself; then to
+the things of others It is a law of Nature and we can't alter it."
+
+Leisurely with sunk head on her bosom, Metabel moved to the door.
+
+"If I can assist you with money," suggested Iven
+
+She shook her head she could not speak.
+
+"Or if you want any food--"
+
+She shook her head again.
+
+But at the door she stood, leaned against the jamb turned, and
+looked steadily at Iver.
+
+"You are going to the Punch-Bowl?" he asked.
+
+"No, I will not go there!"
+
+"Then, where do you go?"
+
+"I do not know, Iver--you baptized me lest I should become a
+wanderer, and now you cast me out, me and my baby to become
+wanderers indeed."
+
+"I cannot help myself, dear Matabel. It is a law of Nature, like
+that of the Medes and Persians, unalterable."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THOR'S STONE AGAIN.
+
+
+Stunned with the sense that her last hope was taken from her, the
+cable of her one anchor cut, Mehetabel left the Ship Inn, and
+turned from the village. It would be in vain for her to seek
+hospitality there. Nothing was open to her save the village pound
+and the cell in which the crazy man, Sammy Drewitt, had perished
+of cold. There was the cave in which she had found refuge the night
+before the death of Jonas. She took her way to that again, over
+the heath.
+
+There was light in the sky, and a star was shining in the west,
+above where the sun had set.
+
+How still her baby was in her arms! Mehetabel unfolded the shawl,
+and looked at the pinched white face in the silvery light from the
+sky. The infant seemed hardly to breathe. She leaned her cheek
+against the tiny mouth, and the warm breath played over it. Then
+the child uttered a sob, drew a long inspiration, and continued
+its sleep. The fresh air on the face had induced that deep,
+convulsive inhalation.
+
+Mehetabel again covered the child's face, and walked on to the
+gully made by the ancient iron-workers, and descended into it.
+
+But great was her disappointment to find that the place of refuge
+was destroyed. Attention had been drawn to it by the evidence of
+Giles Cheel and Sally Rocliffe. The village youths had visited it,
+and had amused themselves with dislodging the great capstone, and
+breaking down the sandstone walls. No shelter was now obtainable
+there for the homeless: it would no more become a playing place
+for the little children of the Dame's school.
+
+She stood looking dreamily at the ruin. Even that last place of
+refuge was denied her, had been taken from her in wantonness.
+
+Leisurely she retraced her steps; she saw again the light in the
+window of the Ship, and the open door. She, however, turned away--the
+welcome was not for her--and entered the village. Few were about,
+and such as saw her allowed her to pass without a salutation.
+
+She staggered up some broken steps into the churchyard, and crossed
+it, towards the church. No friendly light twinkled through the
+window, giving evidence of life, occupation, within. The door was
+shut and locked. She seated herself wearily in the porch. The great
+building was like an empty husk, from which the spirit was passed,
+and it was kept fast barred lest its emptiness should be revealed
+to all. The stones under her feet struck a chill through her, the
+wall against which she leaned her back froze her marrow, the bench
+on which she sat was cold as well. Why had she come to the porch?
+She hardly knew. The period at which Mehetabel lived was not one
+in which the Church was loved as a mother, nestled into for rest
+and consolation. She performed her duties in a cold, perfunctory
+manner, and the late Vicar had, though an earnest man, taught
+nothing save what concerned the geography of Palestine, and the
+weights and measures of Scripture--enough to interest the mind,
+nothing to engage the heart, to fill and stablish the soul.
+
+And now, as Mehetabel sat in the cold porch by the barred door,
+looking out into the evening sky, she extended, opened, and closed
+her right hand, as though trying to grasp, to cling to something,
+in her desolation and friendlessness, and could find nothing. Again
+a horror came over her, because her child lay so still. Again she
+looked at it, and assured herself that it lived--but the life
+seemed to be one of sleep, a prelude to the long last sleep.
+
+She wiped her brow. Cold drops stood on it, as she struggled with
+this thought. Why was the child so quiet now, after having been so
+restless? Was it that it was really better? Was this sleep the
+rest of exhausted nature, recovering itself, or was it--was it--she
+dared not formulate the thought, complete the question.
+
+Again, in the anguish of her mind, in her craving for help in this
+hour of despondency, she put forth her hand in the air gropingly,
+and clutched nothing. She fully opened her palm, extended it level
+before her, and then, wearily let it fall.
+
+From where she sat she could not see even the star that had
+glimmered on her as she crossed the common.
+
+She heard the crackling of the gravel of the path under a foot,
+and a figure passed the porch door, then came back, and stood
+looking at her.
+
+She recognized the sexton.
+
+"Who are you there?" he asked.
+
+She answered him.
+
+"Do you want to see where Jonas is laid? Come along with me, and
+I'll show you."
+
+She shrank back.
+
+"He's where the Kinks all are. You must look and see that it is
+all right. I haven't been paid my fee. Them Rocliffes buttoned up
+their pockets. They sed it was for you to pay. But I hear they
+have put their hands on the property. They thought you would be
+hanged, but as you ain't they'll have to turn out, and you'll have
+to pay me for buryin' of Jonas, I reckon."
+
+The old fellow was much bowed, and hard of hearing. He came into
+the porch, laid hold of Mehetabel, and said, "I'm goin to lock
+the gate. You must turn out; I can't let you bide in the churchyard
+till you come to bide there forever. Be that your baby in your
+arms?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Linegar, it is."
+
+"It don't make much noise. Ain't a very lively young Radical."
+
+"Would you like to see my baby?" asked Mehetabel, timidly, and she
+uncovered the sleeping child.
+
+The sexton bowed over the little face, and straightening himself
+as much as he could, said, "It seems not unlike as that the child
+be comin' to me."
+
+"What do you mean?" Her heart stood still.
+
+"If you hadn't showed it me as alive, I'd ha' sed it were dead, or
+dyin'. Well, come and tell me where it's to be laid. Shall it go
+beside Jonas?"
+
+"Mister Linegar!" Mehetabel stood still trembling. "Why do you
+say that? My babe is well. He is sleeping very sound."
+
+"He looks won'erful white."
+
+"That's because of the twilight. You fancy he is white. He has
+the most beautiful little color in his lips and cheeks, just like
+the crimson on a daisy."
+
+"Well, come along, and choose a place. It'll save comin' again.
+I'll let you see where Jonas lies. And if you want to put up a
+monument, that's half-a-guinea to the passon and half-a-crown to
+me. There, do you see that new grave? I've bound it down wi'
+withies, and laid the turf nice over it. It's fine in the sun,
+and a healthy situation," continued the sexton, pointing to a
+new grave. "This bit of ground is pretty nigh taken up wi' the
+folks of the Punch-Bowl, the Boxalls, and the Nashes, and the
+Snellings, and the Kinks, and the Rocliffes. We let 'em lie to
+themselves when dead, as they kep' to theirselves when livin'.
+Where would you like to lie, you and the baby--you may just as
+well choose now--it may save trouble. I'm gettin' old, and I don't
+go about more than I can help.
+
+"If anything were to happen, Mr. Linegar, then let us be laid--me
+and my darling--on the other side of the church, where my father's
+grave is."
+
+"That's the north side--never gets no sun. I don't reckon it over
+healthy."
+
+"I would rather lie there. If it gets no sun on that side, my
+poor babe and I have been in shade all our lives, and so it fits
+us best to be on the north side."
+
+"Well, there's no accountin for tastes," said the sexton. "But I've
+hear you be a little troubled in the intellecks."
+
+"Is it strange," answered Mehetabel, "that one should wish to be
+laid beside a father--my poor father, who is alone?"
+
+"Come, come," said the old man, "it is time for me to lock up the
+churchyard gate. I only left it open because I had been doing up
+Jonas Kink's grave with withies."
+
+He made Mehetabel precede him down the path, saw her through the
+gate, and then fastened that with a padlock.
+
+"Even the dead have a home--a place of rest," she said. "I have
+none. I am driven from theirs."
+
+It was not true that she had no home, for she had one, and could
+claim it by indefeasible right, the farmhouse of the Kinks in the
+Punch-Bowl. But her heart revolted against a return to the scene
+of the greatest sorrows. Moreover, if, as it was told her, the
+Rocliffes had taken possession, then she could not enter it without
+a contest, and she would have perhaps to forcibly expel them. But
+even if force were not required, she was quite aware that Sally
+Rocliffe would make her position intolerable. She had the means,
+she could enlist the other members of the squatter community on
+her side, and how could she--Mehetabel--maintain herself against
+such a combination? To return to the Punch-Bowl would be to enter
+on ignoble broils, and to run the gauntlet of a whole clique united
+to sting, wound, bruise her to death. How could she carry on the
+necessary business of the farm when obstructed in every way? How
+manage her domestic affairs, without some little assistance from
+outside, which would be refused her?
+
+She entertained no resentment against Iver Verstage for having
+excluded her from the inn, but a sense of humiliation at having
+ventured to seek his help unsolicited. Surely she had an excuse.
+He had always been to her the one to whom her thoughts turned in
+confidence and in hope. It was in him and through him that all
+happiness was to be found. He had professed the sincerest attachment
+to her. He had sought her out at the Punch-Bowl, when she shrank
+from him; and had she not been sacrificed--her whole life blighted
+for his sake? Surely, if he thought anything of her, if he had
+any spark of affection lingering in his heart for her, any care
+for her future, he would never leave her thus desolate, friendless,
+houseless!
+
+She wandered from the churchyard gate, aimless, and before she was
+aware whither she was going, found herself in the confines of
+Pudmoor. How life turns in circles! Before, when she had run from
+the Ship, self-excluded, she had hasted to Pudmoor. Now, again,
+excluded, but by Iver, she turned instinctively to Pudmoor. Once
+before she had run to Thor's Stone, and now, when she found help
+nowhere else, she again took the same direction. She had asked
+assistance once before at the anvil, she would ask it there again.
+Before she had asked to be freed from Iver. She had no need to ask
+that now, he had freed himself from her. She would seek of the
+spirits, what was denied her by her fellow-men, a home where she
+might rest along with her baby.
+
+The first time she had sought Thor's Stone she had been alone, with
+herself only to care for, though indeed for herself she had cared
+nothing. Now, on this second occasion, she was burdened with the
+child infinitely precious to her heart, and for the sake of which
+even a stumble must be avoided. The first time she had been fresh,
+in the full vigor of her strength. Now she was worn out with a
+long tramp, and all the elasticity gone out of her, all the strength
+of soul and body broken.
+
+Slowly, painfully she crept along, making sure of every step. The
+full moon did not now turn the waters into gold, but the illumined
+twilight sky was mirrored below--as steel.
+
+She feared lest her knees should fail, and she should fall. She
+dared not seat herself on a ridge of sand lest she should lack
+power to rise again. When she came to a crabbed fir she leaned
+against it and stooped to kiss her babe.
+
+"Oh, my golden darling! My honeycomb! How cold you are! Cling
+closer to your mother's breast. She would gladly pour all the
+warmth out of her heart into your little veins."
+
+Then on again, amidst the trilling of the natterjacks and the
+croaking of the frogs. Because of their noise she could not hear
+the faint breath of her infant. Although she walked slowly, she
+panted, and through panting could not distinguish the pulsation of
+the little one she bore from the bounding of her own veins. At last
+she saw, gleaming before her--Thor's Stone, and she hasted her
+steps to reach it.
+
+Then she remembered that she was without a hammer. That mattered
+not. She would strike on the anvil with her fingers. The
+spirits--whatever they were--the good people--the country folk
+called them, would hear that. She reached the stone, and sank
+exhausted below it She was too weary to do more than lie, with
+her child in her lap, and hold up her face bathed in sweat, for
+the cool evening wind to wipe it, and at the same time feed with
+fresh breath her exhausted lungs.
+
+Then looking up, she saw the little star again, the only one in
+the light-suffused heavens, but it twinkled faintly, with a feeble
+glitter, feeble as the frail life of the child on her lap.
+
+And now a strange thing occurred.
+
+As she looked aloft suddenly the vault was pervaded with a rosy
+illumination, like the flushing of a coming dawn, and through this
+haze of rosy light, infinitely remote, still flickered the tiny
+spark of the star.
+
+What was this? Merely some highly uplifted vapor that caught the
+sun after it had long ceased to shine on the landscape.
+
+There were even threads of amber traced in this remote and
+attenuated glory--and, lo--in that wondrous halo, the little star
+was eclipsed.
+
+Suddenly--with an unaccountable thrill of fear, Mehetabel bent
+over her babe--and uttered a cry that rang over the Mere.
+
+The hand she had laid on Thor's Stone to tap struck it not. She
+had nothing to ask; no wish to express. The one object for which
+she lived was gone from her.
+
+The babe was dead in her lap.
+
+Her hand fell from the stone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+THE ROSE-CLOUD.
+
+
+Joe Filmer, driving old Clutch, drew up at the door of the Ship
+Inn. Iver Verstage came out and welcomed him.
+
+"I've had a trouble with Clutch," said the ostler. "He lay down as
+we got out of Gorlmyn, and neither whip nor kicks 'ud make him
+stir. I tried ticklin', but t'wern't no good neither. How long
+this 'ud have gone on I dun know; I took him out o' th' shafts, and
+got him back to Gorlmyn, because some men helped me wi' him, and
+pulled at his tail, and twisted his carcass about till his nose
+pointed to the stable of the Angel. Then he condescended to get up
+and go to the inn. I shouldn't ha' got him away at all but that a
+notion came into my head as helped. I got the ostler to saddle
+and bride the gray mare, and mount her afore old Clutch's naked
+eyes. And I told the ostler to ride ahead a little way. Then, my
+word! what airs and jinks there were in Clutch; he gambolled and
+trotted like a colt. It was all a show-off afore the gray mare.
+The ostler--I knew him very well, he's called Tom Tansom, and it's
+a coorious thing now, he only cut his wise teeth about three months
+afore, and suffered won'erful in cutting 'em. But that's neither
+here nor there. Tom Tansom, he rode ahead, and old Clutch went
+after as if he were runnin' with the hounds. But I must tell you,
+whilst I was in Gorlmyn, that Widow Chivers came with the carrier,
+and as she was wantin' a lift, I just took her up and brought her
+on. She's been ter'ible bad, she tells me, with a cold, but she's
+better now--got some new kind o' lozenges, very greatly recommended.
+There's a paper given along wi' 'em with printed letters from all
+sorts o' people as has benefited by these lozenges. They're a
+shillin' and a ha'penny a box. Betty sez they've done her a power
+of good."
+
+"Go on with your account of old Clutch. You're almost as bad as he
+with your stoppages."
+
+"I'm tellin' right along. Well, the ostler he trotted on till he
+came to a turn in the road, and then he went down a lane out o'
+sight. But old Clutch have been racin' on all the way, thinkin'
+the mare had got a distance ahead. I'd a mighty difficulty to make
+him stop at the corner to set down Betty Chivers, and again here.
+Though he's roarin' like the roarin' of the sea, he wants to be on
+again and ketch up the gray mare. It's a pleasure that I've dun
+the old vagabond. Has Matabel been here?"
+
+"Yes, she has; and has gone."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Of course, home, to the Bowl."
+
+"Not she. She's got that screwed into her head tight as a nut, that
+she'll never go there again. There was the sexton at the corner,
+and he helped Betty with her bag, he said he turned Matabel out of
+the church porch."
+
+"Then she may be in the churchyard."
+
+"Oh, no, he turned her out of the churchyard, and the last he seed
+of her was goin' down to the Pudmoor. If she's queer in her head,
+or driven distracted wi' trouble--she oughtn't to be allowed to go
+there."
+
+"Gone to Pudmoor!" exclaimed Iver. "I shouldn't wonder if she has
+sought Thor's Stone. She did that once before."
+
+"I'll clap old Clutch in the stable, then go and look for her. Will
+you come, Mr. Iver?"
+
+"Well--yes--but she cannot be received in here."
+
+"No, there is no need. Betty Chivers will take her in as before.
+Betty expects her. I told her as we comed along that Matabel were
+before us, and we almost expected every minute to take her up.
+Though how we should ha' managed three in the trap I don't know,
+and Clutch would have been in an outrageous temper. Do you hear
+him snortin' there? That's because he's angry--the Radical!"
+
+Beside Thor's Stone Iver and Joe Filmer found Mehetabel rocking her
+child, she had bared her bosom and held the little corpse against
+her palpitating heart, in the desperate hope of communicating to
+it some of her own heat; and if love could have given life the baby
+would have revived.
+
+Again, as when her husband died, her brain was for a while unhinged,
+but she had the same kind and suitable nurse, the widow, Betty
+Chivers.
+
+And now this story is all but done. Little more remains to be told.
+
+Never again did Mehetabel return to the Punch-Bowl--never revisit
+it. The little property was sold, and after the debts of Jonas were
+paid, what remained went for her sustenance, as well as the money
+bequeathed by Susanna Verstage and that laid aside by Simon.
+
+Years passed. Betty Chivers was gathered to the dust and in her
+place Mehetabel kept the Dame's school. It was thought that Joe
+Filmer had his eye on her, and on more than one occasion he dressed
+himself in his Sunday best and walked towards the school, but his
+courage ebbed away before he reached it, and he never said that
+which he had resolved to say.
+
+On the north side of the church, near the monument of the murdered
+sailor, was a tiny mound, ever adorned with flowers, or when
+flowers were unattainable, with sprigs of holly and butcher's broom
+set with scarlet berries. At the beginning of the present century
+the decoration of a grave was rarely if ever practised. It was
+looked on as so strange in Mehetabel, and it served to foster the
+notion that she was not quite right in her head.
+
+But in nothing else did the village schoolmistress show strangeness:
+in school and out of school she was beloved by her children, and
+their love was returned by her.
+
+We live in a new age--one removed from that of Dame schools. A few
+years has transformed the system of education in the land.
+
+In one of the voyages of Lemuel Gulliver, he reached the island of
+Lagado, where the system of construction adopted by the natives in
+the erection of an edifice was to begin at the top, the apex of a
+spire or roof, and to build downwards, laying the foundations last
+of all, or leaving them out altogether.
+
+This is precisely the system of primary education adopted in our
+land, and if rent and ruin result, it is possibly due to the method
+being an injudicious one.
+
+The face of Mehetabel acquired a sweetness and repose that were new
+to it, and were superadded to her natural beauty. And she was happy,
+happy in the children she taught, happy in the method she pursued,
+and happy in the results.
+
+Often did she recall that visit to Thor's Stone on the night when
+her child died, and she remembered her look up into the evening
+sky. "I thought all light was gone from me, when my star, my little
+feeble star, was eclipsed, but instead there spread over the sky a
+great shining, glorious canopy of rosy light, and it is so,"--she
+looked after her dispersing school--"my light and life and joy
+are there."
+
+The Vicar came up.
+
+There had been a great change in the ecclesiastical arrangements of
+Thursley. It was no longer served occasionally and fitfully from
+the mother church. It had a parson of its own. Moreover a change
+had been effected in the church. It was no longer as a house left
+desolate.
+
+"I have been thinking, Mrs. Kink," said the Vicar, "that I should
+much like to know your system of education. I hear from all quarters
+such good accounts of your children."
+
+"System, sir!" she answered blushing, "oh, I have none."
+
+"None, Mrs. Kink?"
+
+"I mean," she answered, "I teach just what every child ought to
+know, as a matter of course."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"To love and fear God."
+
+"And next?"
+
+With a timid smile:
+
+"That C A T spells cat, and D O G spells dog."
+
+"And next?"
+
+"That two and two makes four, and three times four makes twelve."
+
+"And next?"
+
+She raised her modest dark eyes to the Vicar, and answered, smiling,
+"Mine is only a school for beginners. I lay the foundations. I do
+not profess to finish."
+
+"You teach no more than these?"
+
+"I lay the foundations on which all the rest can be raised," she
+answered.
+
+"And you are happy?"
+
+She smiled; it was as though the sun shone out of her face.
+
+"Happy! Oh, so happy! I could not be happier." Then, after a pause,
+"Except when I and my own little one are together again, and that
+would be too much happiness for my heart now. But it will be able
+to bear the joy--then."
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+[1] Not really in Hants, but in Surrey, adjoining the County
+demarcation.
+
+[2]This is the beginning of a long ballad based on the incidents
+above mentioned, which is still current in the neighborhood.
+
+
+
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