"I frightened you," he said, with a delicious sense that it didn"t signify what he said, since Hetty seemed to feel as much as he did; "let ME pick the currants up."
That was soon done, for they had only fallen in a tangled ma.s.s on the gra.s.s-plot, and Adam, as he rose and gave her the basin again, looked straight into her eyes with the subdued tenderness that belongs to the first moments of hopeful love.
Hetty did not turn away her eyes; her blush had subsided, and she met his glance with a quiet sadness, which contented Adam because it was so unlike anything he had seen in her before.
"There"s not many more currants to get," she said; "I shall soon ha" done now."
"I"ll help you," said Adam; and he fetched the large basket, which was nearly full of currants, and set it close to them.
Not a word more was spoken as they gathered the currants. Adam"s heart was too full to speak, and he thought Hetty knew all that was in it. She was not indifferent to his presence after all; she had blushed when she saw him, and then there was that touch of sadness about her which must surely mean love, since it was the opposite of her usual manner, which had often impressed him as indifference. And he could glance at her continually as she bent over the fruit, while the level evening sunbeams stole through the thick apple-tree boughs, and rested on her round cheek and neck as if they too were in love with her. It was to Adam the time that a man can least forget in after-life, the time when he believes that the first woman he has ever loved betrays by a slight something--a word, a tone, a glance, the quivering of a lip or an eyelid--that she is at least beginning to love him in return. The sign is so slight, it is scarcely perceptible to the ear or eye--he could describe it to no one--it is a mere feather-touch, yet it seems to have changed his whole being, to have merged an uneasy yearning into a delicious unconsciousness of everything but the present moment. So much of our early gladness vanishes utterly from our memory: we can never recall the joy with which we laid our heads on our mother"s bosom or rode on our father"s back in childhood. Doubtless that joy is wrought up into our nature, as the sunlight of long-past mornings is wrought up in the soft mellowness of the apricot, but it is gone for ever from our imagination, and we can only BELIEVE in the joy of childhood. But the first glad moment in our first love is a vision which returns to us to the last, and brings with it a thrill of feeling intense and special as the recurrent sensation of a sweet odour breathed in a far-off hour of happiness. It is a memory that gives a more exquisite touch to tenderness, that feeds the madness of jealousy and adds the last keenness to the agony of despair.
Hetty bending over the red bunches, the level rays piercing the screen of apple-tree boughs, the length of bushy garden beyond, his own emotion as he looked at her and believed that she was thinking of him, and that there was no need for them to talk--Adam remembered it all to the last moment of his life.
And Hetty? You know quite well that Adam was mistaken about her. Like many other men, he thought the signs of love for another were signs of love towards himself. When Adam was approaching unseen by her, she was absorbed as usual in thinking and wondering about Arthur"s possible return. The sound of any man"s footstep would have affected her just in the same way--she would have FELT it might be Arthur before she had time to see, and the blood that forsook her cheek in the agitation of that momentary feeling would have rushed back again at the sight of any one else just as much as at the sight of Adam. He was not wrong in thinking that a change had come over Hetty: the anxieties and fears of a first pa.s.sion, with which she was trembling, had become stronger than vanity, had given her for the first time that sense of helpless dependence on another"s feeling which awakens the clinging deprecating womanhood even in the shallowest girl that can ever experience it, and creates in her a sensibility to kindness which found her quite hard before. For the first time Hetty felt that there was something soothing to her in Adam"s timid yet manly tenderness. She wanted to be treated lovingly--oh, it was very hard to bear this blank of absence, silence, apparent indifference, after those moments of glowing love! She was not afraid that Adam would tease her with love-making and flattering speeches like her other admirers; he had always been so reserved to her; she could enjoy without any fear the sense that this strong brave man loved her and was near her. It never entered into her mind that Adam was pitiable too--that Adam too must suffer one day.
Hetty, we know, was not the first woman that had behaved more gently to the man who loved her in vain because she had herself begun to love another. It was a very old story, but Adam knew nothing about it, so he drank in the sweet delusion.
"That"ll do," said Hetty, after a little while. "Aunt wants me to leave some on the trees. I"ll take "em in now."
"It"s very well I came to carry the basket," said Adam "for it "ud ha" been too heavy for your little arms."
"No; I could ha" carried it with both hands."
"Oh, I daresay," said Adam, smiling, "and been as long getting into the house as a little ant carrying a caterpillar. Have you ever seen those tiny fellows carrying things four times as big as themselves?"
"No," said Hetty, indifferently, not caring to know the difficulties of ant life.
"Oh, I used to watch "em often when I was a lad. But now, you see, I can carry the basket with one arm, as if it was an empty nutsh.e.l.l, and give you th" other arm to lean on. Won"t you? Such big arms as mine were made for little arms like yours to lean on."
Hetty smiled faintly and put her arm within his. Adam looked down at her, but her eyes were turned dreamily towards another corner of the garden.
"Have you ever been to Eagledale?" she said, as they walked slowly along.
"Yes," said Adam, pleased to have her ask a question about himself. "Ten years ago, when I was a lad, I went with father to see about some work there. It"s a wonderful sight--rocks and caves such as you never saw in your life. I never had a right notion o" rocks till I went there."
"How long did it take to get there?"
"Why, it took us the best part o" two days" walking. But it"s nothing of a day"s journey for anybody as has got a first-rate nag. The captain "ud get there in nine or ten hours, I"ll be bound, he"s such a rider. And I shouldn"t wonder if he"s back again to-morrow; he"s too active to rest long in that lonely place, all by himself, for there"s nothing but a bit of a inn i" that part where he"s gone to fish. I wish he"d got th" estate in his hands; that "ud be the right thing for him, for it "ud give him plenty to do, and he"d do"t well too, for all he"s so young; he"s got better notions o" things than many a man twice his age. He spoke very handsome to me th" other day about lending me money to set up i" business; and if things came round that way, I"d rather be beholding to him nor to any man i" the world."
Poor Adam was led on to speak about Arthur because he thought Hetty would be pleased to know that the young squire was so ready to befriend him; the fact entered into his future prospects, which he would like to seem promising in her eyes. And it was true that Hetty listened with an interest which brought a new light into her eyes and a half-smile upon her lips.
"How pretty the roses are now!" Adam continued, pausing to look at them. "See! I stole the prettiest, but I didna mean to keep it myself. I think these as are all pink, and have got a finer sort o" green leaves, are prettier than the striped uns, don"t you?"
He set down the basket and took the rose from his b.u.t.ton-hole.
"It smells very sweet," he said; "those striped uns have no smell. Stick it in your frock, and then you can put it in water after. It "ud be a pity to let it fade."
Hetty took the rose, smiling as she did so at the pleasant thought that Arthur could so soon get back if he liked. There was a flash of hope and happiness in her mind, and with a sudden impulse of gaiety she did what she had very often done before--stuck the rose in her hair a little above the left ear. The tender admiration in Adam"s face was slightly shadowed by reluctant disapproval. Hetty"s love of finery was just the thing that would most provoke his mother, and he himself disliked it as much as it was possible for him to dislike anything that belonged to her.
"Ah," he said, "that"s like the ladies in the pictures at the Chase; they"ve mostly got flowers or feathers or gold things i" their hair, but somehow I don"t like to see "em they allays put me i" mind o" the painted women outside the shows at Treddles"on Fair. What can a woman have to set her off better than her own hair, when it curls so, like yours? If a woman"s young and pretty, I think you can see her good looks all the better for her being plain dressed. Why, Dinah Morris looks very nice, for all she wears such a plain cap and gown. It seems to me as a woman"s face doesna want flowers; it"s almost like a flower itself. I"m sure yours is."
"Oh, very well," said Hetty, with a little playful pout, taking the rose out of her hair. "I"ll put one o" Dinah"s caps on when we go in, and you"ll see if I look better in it. She left one behind, so I can take the pattern."
"Nay, nay, I don"t want you to wear a Methodist cap like Dinah"s. I daresay it"s a very ugly cap, and I used to think when I saw her here as it was nonsense for her to dress different t" other people; but I never rightly noticed her till she came to see mother last week, and then I thought the cap seemed to fit her face somehow as th "acorn-cup fits th" acorn, and I shouldn"t like to see her so well without it. But you"ve got another sort o" face; I"d have you just as you are now, without anything t" interfere with your own looks. It"s like when a man"s singing a good tune--you don"t want t" hear bells tinkling and interfering wi" the sound."
He took her arm and put it within his again, looking down on her fondly. He was afraid she should think he had lectured her, imagining, as we are apt to do, that she had perceived all the thoughts he had only half-expressed. And the thing he dreaded most was lest any cloud should come over this evening"s happiness. For the world he would not have spoken of his love to Hetty yet, till this commencing kindness towards him should have grown into unmistakable love. In his imagination he saw long years of his future life stretching before him, blest with the right to call Hetty his own: he could be content with very little at present. So he took up the basket of currants once more, and they went on towards the house.
The scene had quite changed in the half-hour that Adam had been in the garden. The yard was full of life now: Marty was letting the screaming geese through the gate, and wickedly provoking the gander by hissing at him; the granary-door was groaning on its hinges as Alick shut it, after dealing out the corn; the horses were being led out to watering, amidst much barking of all the three dogs and many "whups" from Tim the ploughman, as if the heavy animals who held down their meek, intelligent heads, and lifted their s.h.a.ggy feet so deliberately, were likely to rush wildly in every direction but the right. Everybody was come back from the meadow; and when Hetty and Adam entered the house-place, Mr. Poyser was seated in the three-cornered chair, and the grandfather in the large arm-chair opposite, looking on with pleasant expectation while the supper was being laid on the oak table. Mrs. Poyser had laid the cloth herself--a cloth made of homespun linen, with a shining checkered pattern on it, and of an agreeable whitey-brown hue, such as all sensible housewives like to see--none of your bleached "shop-rag" that would wear into holes in no time, but good homespun that would last for two generations. The cold veal, the fresh lettuces, and the stuffed chine might well look tempting to hungry men who had dined at half-past twelve o"clock. On the large deal table against the wall there were bright pewter plates and spoons and cans, ready for Alick and his companions; for the master and servants ate their supper not far off each other; which was all the pleasanter, because if a remark about to-morrow morning"s work occurred to Mr. Poyser, Alick was at hand to hear it.
"Well, Adam, I"m glad to see ye," said Mr. Poyser. "What! ye"ve been helping Hetty to gether the curran"s, eh? Come, sit ye down, sit ye down. Why, it"s pretty near a three-week since y" had your supper with us; and the missis has got one of her rare stuffed chines. I"m glad ye"re come."
"Hetty," said Mrs. Poyser, as she looked into the basket of currants to see if the fruit was fine, "run upstairs and send Molly down. She"s putting Totty to bed, and I want her to draw th" ale, for Nancy"s busy yet i" the dairy. You can see to the child. But whativer did you let her run away from you along wi" Tommy for, and stuff herself wi" fruit as she can"t eat a bit o" good victual?"
This was said in a lower tone than usual, while her husband was talking to Adam; for Mrs. Poyser was strict in adherence to her own rules of propriety, and she considered that a young girl was not to be treated sharply in the presence of a respectable man who was courting her. That would not be fair-play: every woman was young in her turn, and had her chances of matrimony, which it was a point of honour for other women not to spoil--just as one market-woman who has sold her own eggs must not try to balk another of a customer.
Hetty made haste to run away upstairs, not easily finding an answer to her aunt"s question, and Mrs. Poyser went out to see after Marty and Tommy and bring them in to supper.
Soon they were all seated--the two rosy lads, one on each side, by the pale mother, a place being left for Hetty between Adam and her uncle. Alick too was come in, and was seated in his far corner, eating cold broad beans out of a large dish with his pocket-knife, and finding a flavour in them which he would not have exchanged for the finest pineapple.
"What a time that gell is drawing th" ale, to be sure!" said Mrs. Poyser, when she was dispensing her slices of stuffed chine. "I think she sets the jug under and forgets to turn the tap, as there"s nothing you can"t believe o" them wenches: they"ll set the empty kettle o" the fire, and then come an hour after to see if the water boils."
"She"s drawin" for the men too," said Mr. Poyser. "Thee shouldst ha" told her to bring our jug up first."
"Told her?" said Mrs. Poyser. "Yes, I might spend all the wind i" my body, an" take the bellows too, if I was to tell them gells everything as their own sharpness wonna tell "em. Mr. Bede, will you take some vinegar with your lettuce? Aye you"re i" the right not. It spoils the flavour o" the chine, to my thinking. It"s poor eating where the flavour o" the meat lies i" the cruets. There"s folks as make bad b.u.t.ter and trusten to the salt t" hide it."
Mrs. Poyser"s attention was here diverted by the appearance of Molly, carrying a large jug, two small mugs, and four drinking-cans, all full of ale or small beer--an interesting example of the prehensile power possessed by the human hand. Poor Molly"s mouth was rather wider open than usual, as she walked along with her eyes fixed on the double cl.u.s.ter of vessels in her hands, quite innocent of the expression in her mistress"s eye.
"Molly, I niver knew your equils--to think o" your poor mother as is a widow, an" I took you wi" as good as no character, an" the times an" times I"ve told you...."
Molly had not seen the lightning, and the thunder shook her nerves the more for the want of that preparation. With a vague alarmed sense that she must somehow comport herself differently, she hastened her step a little towards the far deal table, where she might set down her cans--caught her foot in her ap.r.o.n, which had become untied, and fell with a crash and a splash into a pool of beer; whereupon a t.i.ttering explosion from Marty and Tommy, and a serious "Ello!" from Mr. Poyser, who saw his draught of ale unpleasantly deferred.
"There you go!" resumed Mrs. Poyser, in a cutting tone, as she rose and went towards the cupboard while Molly began dolefully to pick up the fragments of pottery. "It"s what I told you "ud come, over and over again; and there"s your month"s wage gone, and more, to pay for that jug as I"ve had i" the house this ten year, and nothing ever happened to"t before; but the crockery you"ve broke sin" here in th" house you"ve been "ud make a parson swear--G.o.d forgi" me for saying so--an" if it had been boiling wort out o" the copper, it "ud ha" been the same, and you"d ha" been scalded and very like lamed for life, as there"s no knowing but what you will be some day if you go on; for anybody "ud think you"d got the St. Vitus"s Dance, to see the things you"ve throwed down. It"s a pity but what the bits was stacked up for you to see, though it"s neither seeing nor hearing as "ull make much odds to you--anybody "ud think you war case-hardened."
Poor Molly"s tears were dropping fast by this time, and in her desperation at the lively movement of the beer-stream towards Alick"s legs, she was converting her ap.r.o.n into a mop, while Mrs. Poyser, opening the cupboard, turned a blighting eye upon her.
"Ah," she went on, "you"ll do no good wi" crying an" making more wet to wipe up. It"s all your own wilfulness, as I tell you, for there"s n.o.body no call to break anything if they"ll only go the right way to work. But wooden folks had need ha" wooden things t" handle. And here must I take the brown-and-white jug, as it"s niver been used three times this year, and go down i" the cellar myself, and belike catch my death, and be laid up wi" inflammation...."
Mrs. Poyser had turned round from the cupboard with the brown-and-white jug in her hand, when she caught sight of something at the other end of the kitchen; perhaps it was because she was already trembling and nervous that the apparition had so strong an effect on her; perhaps jug-breaking, like other crimes, has a contagious influence. However it was, she stared and started like a ghost-seer, and the precious brown-and-white jug fell to the ground, parting for ever with its spout and handle.
"Did ever anybody see the like?" she said, with a suddenly lowered tone, after a moment"s bewildered glance round the room. "The jugs are bewitched, I think. It"s them nasty glazed handles--they slip o"er the finger like a snail."
"Why, thee"st let thy own whip fly i" thy face," said her husband, who had now joined in the laugh of the young ones.
"It"s all very fine to look on and grin," rejoined Mrs. Poyser; "but there"s times when the crockery seems alive an" flies out o" your hand like a bird. It"s like the gla.s.s, sometimes, "ull crack as it stands. What is to be broke WILL be broke, for I never dropped a thing i" my life for want o" holding it, else I should never ha" kept the crockery all these "ears as I bought at my own wedding. And Hetty, are you mad? Whativer do you mean by coming down i" that way, and making one think as there"s a ghost a-walking i" th" house?"
A new outbreak of laughter, while Mrs. Poyser was speaking, was caused, less by her sudden conversion to a fatalistic view of jug-breaking than by that strange appearance of Hetty, which had startled her aunt. The little minx had found a black gown of her aunt"s, and pinned it close round her neck to look like Dinah"s, had made her hair as flat as she could, and had tied on one of Dinah"s high-crowned borderless net caps. The thought of Dinah"s pale grave face and mild grey eyes, which the sight of the gown and cap brought with it, made it a laughable surprise enough to see them replaced by Hetty"s round rosy cheeks and coquettish dark eyes. The boys got off their chairs and jumped round her, clapping their hands, and even Alick gave a low ventral laugh as he looked up from his beans. Under cover of the noise, Mrs. Poyser went into the back kitchen to send Nancy into the cellar with the great pewter measure, which had some chance of being free from bewitchment.
"Why, Hetty, la.s.s, are ye turned Methodist?" said Mr. Poyser, with that comfortable slow enjoyment of a laugh which one only sees in stout people. "You must pull your face a deal longer before you"ll do for one; mustna she, Adam? How come you put them things on, eh?"
"Adam said he liked Dinah"s cap and gown better nor my clothes," said Hetty, sitting down demurely. "He says folks looks better in ugly clothes."
"Nay, nay," said Adam, looking at her admiringly; "I only said they seemed to suit Dinah. But if I"d said you"d look pretty in "em, I should ha" said nothing but what was true."
"Why, thee thought"st Hetty war a ghost, didstna?" said Mr. Poyser to his wife, who now came back and took her seat again. "Thee look"dst as scared as scared."
"It little sinnifies how I looked," said Mrs. Poyser; "looks "ull mend no jugs, nor laughing neither, as I see. Mr. Bede, I"m sorry you"ve to wait so long for your ale, but it"s coming in a minute. Make yourself at home wi" th" cold potatoes: I know you like "em. Tommy, I"ll send you to bed this minute, if you don"t give over laughing. What is there to laugh at, I should like to know? I"d sooner cry nor laugh at the sight o" that poor thing"s cap; and there"s them as "ud be better if they could make theirselves like her i" more ways nor putting on her cap. It little becomes anybody i" this house to make fun o" my sister"s child, an" her just gone away from us, as it went to my heart to part wi" her. An" I know one thing, as if trouble was to come, an" I was to be laid up i" my bed, an" the children was to die--as there"s no knowing but what they will--an" the murrain was to come among the cattle again, an" everything went to rack an" ruin, I say we might be glad to get sight o" Dinah"s cap again, wi" her own face under it, border or no border. For she"s one o" them things as looks the brightest on a rainy day, and loves you the best when you"re most i" need on"t."
Mrs. Poyser, you perceive, was aware that nothing would be so likely to expel the comic as the terrible. Tommy, who was of a susceptible disposition, and very fond of his mother, and who had, besides, eaten so many cherries as to have his feelings less under command than usual, was so affected by the dreadful picture she had made of the possible future that he began to cry; and the good-natured father, indulgent to all weaknesses but those of negligent farmers, said to Hetty, "You"d better take the things off again, my la.s.s; it hurts your aunt to see "em."
Hetty went upstairs again, and the arrival of the ale made an agreeable diversion; for Adam had to give his opinion of the new tap, which could not be otherwise than complimentary to Mrs. Poyser; and then followed a discussion on the secrets of good brewing, the folly of stinginess in "hopping," and the doubtful economy of a farmer"s making his own malt. Mrs. Poyser had so many opportunities of expressing herself with weight on these subjects that by the time supper was ended, the ale-jug refilled, and Mr. Poyser"s pipe alight she was once more in high good humour, and ready, at Adam"s request, to fetch the broken spinning-wheel for his inspection.
"Ah," said Adam, looking at it carefully, "here"s a nice bit o" turning wanted. It"s a pretty wheel. I must have it up at the turning-shop in the village and do it there, for I"ve no convenence for turning at home. If you"ll send it to Mr. Burge"s shop i" the morning, I"ll get it done for you by Wednesday. I"ve been turning it over in my mind," he continued, looking at Mr. Poyser, "to make a bit more convenence at home for nice jobs o" cabinet-making. I"ve always done a deal at such little things in odd hours, and they"re profitable, for there"s more workmanship nor material in "em. I look for me and Seth to get a little business for ourselves i" that way, for I know a man at Rosseter as "ull take as many things as we should make, besides what we could get orders for round about."
Mr. Poyser entered with interest into a project which seemed a step towards Adam"s becoming a "master-man," and Mrs. Poyser gave her approbation to the scheme of the movable kitchen cupboard, which was to be capable of containing grocery, pickles, crockery, and house-linen in the utmost compactness without confusion. Hetty, once more in her own dress, with her neckerchief pushed a little backwards on this warm evening, was seated picking currants near the window, where Adam could see her quite well. And so the time pa.s.sed pleasantly till Adam got up to go. He was pressed to come again soon, but not to stay longer, for at this busy time sensible people would not run the risk of being sleepy at five o"clock in the morning.
"I shall take a step farther," said Adam, "and go on to see Mester Ma.s.sey, for he wasn"t at church yesterday, and I"ve not seen him for a week past. I"ve never hardly known him to miss church before."
"Aye," said Mr. Poyser, "we"ve heared nothing about him, for it"s the boys" hollodays now, so we can give you no account."
"But you"ll niver think o" going there at this hour o" the night?" said Mrs. Poyser, folding up her knitting.
"Oh, Mester Ma.s.sey sits up late," said Adam. "An" the night-school"s not over yet. Some o" the men don"t come till late--they"ve got so far to walk. And Bartle himself"s never in bed till it"s gone eleven."
"I wouldna have him to live wi" me, then," said Mrs. Poyser, "a-dropping candle-grease about, as you"re like to tumble down o" the floor the first thing i" the morning."
"Aye, eleven o"clock"s late--it"s late," said old Martin. "I ne"er sot up so i" MY life, not to say as it warna a marr"in", or a christenin", or a wake, or th" harvest supper. Eleven o"clock"s late."
"Why, I sit up till after twelve often," said Adam, laughing, "but it isn"t t" eat and drink extry, it"s to work extry. Good-night, Mrs. Poyser; good-night, Hetty."
Hetty could only smile and not shake hands, for hers were dyed and damp with currant-juice; but all the rest gave a hearty shake to the large palm that was held out to them, and said, "Come again, come again!"
"Aye, think o" that now," said Mr. Poyser, when Adam was out of on the causeway. "Sitting up till past twelve to do extry work! Ye"ll not find many men o" six-an" twenty as "ull do to put i" the shafts wi" him. If you can catch Adam for a husband, Hetty, you"ll ride i" your own spring-cart some day, I"ll be your warrant."
Hetty was moving across the kitchen with the currants, so her uncle did not see the little toss of the head with which she answered him. To ride in a spring-cart seemed a very miserable lot indeed to her now.
Chapter XXI.
The Night-School and the Schoolmaster.
Bartle Ma.s.sey"s was one of a few scattered houses on the edge of a common, which was divided by the road to Treddleston. Adam reached it in a quarter of an hour after leaving the Hall Farm; and when he had his hand on the door-latch, he could see, through the curtainless window, that there were eight or nine heads bending over the desks, lighted by thin dips.
When he entered, a reading lesson was going forward and Bartle Ma.s.sey merely nodded, leaving him to take his place where he pleased. He had not come for the sake of a lesson to-night, and his mind was too full of personal matters, too full of the last two hours he had pa.s.sed in Hetty"s presence, for him to amuse himself with a book till school was over; so he sat down in a corner and looked on with an absent mind. It was a sort of scene which Adam had beheld almost weekly for years; he knew by heart every arabesque flourish in the framed specimen of Bartle Ma.s.sey"s handwriting which hung over the schoolmaster"s head, by way of keeping a lofty ideal before the minds of his pupils; he knew the backs of all the books on the shelf running along the whitewashed wall above the pegs for the slates; he knew exactly how many grains were gone out of the ear of Indian corn that hung from one of the rafters; he had long ago exhausted the resources of his imagination in trying to think how the bunch of leathery seaweed had looked and grown in its native element; and from the place where he sat, he could make nothing of the old map of England that hung against the opposite wall, for age had turned it of a fine yellow brown, something like that of a well-seasoned meerschaum. The drama that was going on was almost as familiar as the scene, nevertheless habit had not made him indifferent to it, and even in his present self-absorbed mood, Adam felt a momentary stirring of the old fellow-feeling, as he looked at the rough men painfully holding pen or pencil with their cramped hands, or humbly labouring through their reading lesson.
The reading cla.s.s now seated on the form in front of the schoolmaster"s desk consisted of the three most backward pupils. Adam would have known it only by seeing Bartle Ma.s.sey"s face as he looked over his spectacles, which he had shifted to the ridge of his nose, not requiring them for present purposes. The face wore its mildest expression: the grizzled bushy eyebrows had taken their more acute angle of compa.s.sionate kindness, and the mouth, habitually compressed with a pout of the lower lip, was relaxed so as to be ready to speak a helpful word or syllable in a moment. This gentle expression was the more interesting because the schoolmaster"s nose, an irregular aquiline twisted a little on one side, had rather a formidable character; and his brow, moreover, had that peculiar tension which always impresses one as a sign of a keen impatient temperament: the blue veins stood out like cords under the transparent yellow skin, and this intimidating brow was softened by no tendency to baldness, for the grey bristly hair, cut down to about an inch in length, stood round it in as close ranks as ever.
"Nay, Bill, nay," Bartle was saying in a kind tone, as he nodded to Adam, "begin that again, and then perhaps, it"ll come to you what d-r-y spells. It"s the same lesson you read last week, you know."
"Bill" was a st.u.r.dy fellow, aged four-and-twenty, an excellent stone-sawyer, who could get as good wages as any man in the trade of his years; but he found a reading lesson in words of one syllable a harder matter to deal with than the hardest stone he had ever had to saw. The letters, he complained, were so "uncommon alike, there was no tellin" "em one from another," the sawyer"s business not being concerned with minute differences such as exist between a letter with its tail turned up and a letter with its tail turned down. But Bill had a firm determination that he would learn to read, founded chiefly on two reasons: first, that Tom Hazelow, his cousin, could read anything "right off," whether it was print or writing, and Tom had sent him a letter from twenty miles off, saying how he was prospering in the world and had got an overlooker"s place; secondly, that Sam Phillips, who sawed with him, had learned to read when he was turned twenty, and what could be done by a little fellow like Sam Phillips, Bill considered, could be done by himself, seeing that he could pound Sam into wet clay if circ.u.mstances required it. So here he was, pointing his big finger towards three words at once, and turning his head on one side that he might keep better hold with his eye of the one word which was to be discriminated out of the group. The amount of knowledge Bartle Ma.s.sey must possess was something so dim and vast that Bill"s imagination recoiled before it: he would hardly have ventured to deny that the schoolmaster might have something to do in bringing about the regular return of daylight and the changes in the weather.
The man seated next to Bill was of a very different type: he was a Methodist brickmaker who, after spending thirty years of his life in perfect satisfaction with his ignorance, had lately "got religion," and along with it the desire to read the Bible. But with him, too, learning was a heavy business, and on his way out to-night he had offered as usual a special prayer for help, seeing that he had undertaken this hard task with a single eye to the nourishment of his soul--that he might have a greater abundance of texts and hymns wherewith to banish evil memories and the temptations of old habit--or, in brief language, the devil. For the brickmaker had been a notorious poacher, and was suspected, though there was no good evidence against him, of being the man who had shot a neighbouring gamekeeper in the leg. However that might be, it is certain that shortly after the accident referred to, which was coincident with the arrival of an awakening Methodist preacher at Treddleston, a great change had been observed in the brickmaker; and though he was still known in the neighbourhood by his old sobriquet of "Brimstone," there was nothing he held in so much horror as any further transactions with that evil-smelling element. He was a broad-chested fellow with a fervid temperament, which helped him better in imbibing religious ideas than in the dry process of acquiring the mere human knowledge of the alphabet. Indeed, he had been already a little shaken in his resolution by a brother Methodist, who a.s.sured him that the letter was a mere obstruction to the Spirit, and expressed a fear that Brimstone was too eager for the knowledge that puffeth up.
The third beginner was a much more promising pupil. He was a tall but thin and wiry man, nearly as old as Brimstone, with a very pale face and hands stained a deep blue. He was a dyer, who in the course of dipping homespun wool and old women"s petticoats had got fired with the ambition to learn a great deal more about the strange secrets of colour. He had already a high reputation in the district for his dyes, and he was bent on discovering some method by which he could reduce the expense of crimsons and scarlets. The druggist at Treddleston had given him a notion that he might save himself a great deal of labour and expense if he could learn to read, and so he had begun to give his spare hours to the night-school, resolving that his "little chap" should lose no time in coming to Mr. Ma.s.sey"s day-school as soon as he was old enough.
It was touching to see these three big men, with the marks of their hard labour about them, anxiously bending over the worn books and painfully making out, "The gra.s.s is green," "The sticks are dry," "The corn is ripe"--a very hard lesson to pa.s.s to after columns of single words all alike except in the first letter. It was almost as if three rough animals were making humble efforts to learn how they might become human. And it touched the tenderest fibre in Bartle Ma.s.sey"s nature, for such full-grown children as these were the only pupils for whom he had no severe epithets and no impatient tones. He was not gifted with an imperturbable temper, and on music-nights it was apparent that patience could never be an easy virtue to him; but this evening, as he glances over his spectacles at Bill Downes, the sawyer, who is turning his head on one side with a desperate sense of blankness before the letters d-r-y, his eyes shed their mildest and most encouraging light.
After the reading cla.s.s, two youths between sixteen and nineteen came up with the imaginary bills of parcels, which they had been writing out on their slates and were now required to calculate "off-hand"--a test which they stood with such imperfect success that Bartle Ma.s.sey, whose eyes had been glaring at them ominously through his spectacles for some minutes, at length burst out in a bitter, high-pitched tone, pausing between every sentence to rap the floor with a k.n.o.bbed stick which rested between his legs.
"Now, you see, you don"t do this thing a bit better than you did a fortnight ago, and I"ll tell you what"s the reason. You want to learn accounts--that"s well and good. But you think all you need do to learn accounts is to come to me and do sums for an hour or so, two or three times a-week; and no sooner do you get your caps on and turn out of doors again than you sweep the whole thing clean out of your mind. You go whistling about, and take no more care what you"re thinking of than if your heads were gutters for any rubbish to swill through that happened to be in the way; and if you get a good notion in "em, it"s pretty soon washed out again. You think knowledge is to be got cheap--you"ll come and pay Bartle Ma.s.sey sixpence a-week, and he"ll make you clever at figures without your taking any trouble. But knowledge isn"t to be got with paying sixpence, let me tell you. If you"re to know figures, you must turn "em over in your heads and keep your thoughts fixed on "em. There"s nothing you can"t turn into a sum, for there"s nothing but what"s got number in it--even a fool. You may say to yourselves, "I"m one fool, and Jack"s another; if my fool"s head weighed four pound, and Jack"s three pound three ounces and three quarters, how many pennyweights heavier would my head be than Jack"s?" A man that had got his heart in learning figures would make sums for himself and work "em in his head. When he sat at his shoemaking, he"d count his st.i.tches by fives, and then put a price on his st.i.tches, say half a farthing, and then see how much money he could get in an hour; and then ask himself how much money he"d get in a day at that rate; and then how much ten workmen would get working three, or twenty, or a hundred years at that rate--and all the while his needle would be going just as fast as if he left his head empty for the devil to dance in. But the long and the short of it is--I"ll have n.o.body in my night-school that doesn"t strive to learn what he comes to learn, as hard as if he was striving to get out of a dark hole into broad daylight. I"ll send no man away because he"s stupid: if Billy Taft, the idiot, wanted to learn anything, I"d not refuse to teach him. But I"ll not throw away good knowledge on people who think they can get it by the sixpenn"orth, and carry it away with "em as they would an ounce of snuff. So never come to me again, if you can"t show that you"ve been working with your own heads, instead of thinking that you can pay for mine to work for you. That"s the last word I"ve got to say to you."
With this final sentence, Bartle Ma.s.sey gave a sharper rap than ever with his k.n.o.bbed stick, and the discomfited lads got up to go with a sulky look. The other pupils had happily only their writing-books to show, in various stages of progress from pot-hooks to round text; and mere pen-strokes, however perverse, were less exasperating to Bartle than false arithmetic. He was a little more severe than usual on Jacob Storey"s Z"s, of which poor Jacob had written a pageful, all with their tops turned the wrong way, with a puzzled sense that they were not right "somehow." But he observed in apology, that it was a letter you never wanted hardly, and he thought it had only been there "to finish off th" alphabet, like, though ampusand (&) would ha" done as well, for what he could see."
At last the pupils had all taken their hats and said their "Good-nights," and Adam, knowing his old master"s habits, rose and said, "Shall I put the candles out, Mr. Ma.s.sey?"
"Yes, my boy, yes, all but this, which I"ll carry into the house; and just lock the outer door, now you"re near it," said Bartle, getting his stick in the fitting angle to help him in descending from his stool. He was no sooner on the ground than it became obvious why the stick was necessary--the left leg was much shorter than the right. But the school-master was so active with his lameness that it was hardly thought of as a misfortune; and if you had seen him make his way along the schoolroom floor, and up the step into his kitchen, you would perhaps have understood why the naughty boys sometimes felt that his pace might be indefinitely quickened and that he and his stick might overtake them even in their swiftest run.
The moment he appeared at the kitchen door with the candle in his hand, a faint whimpering began in the chimney-corner, and a brown-and-tan-coloured b.i.t.c.h, of that wise-looking breed with short legs and long body, known to an unmechanical generation as turnspits, came creeping along the floor, wagging her tail, and hesitating at every other step, as if her affections were painfully divided between the hamper in the chimney-corner and the master, whom she could not leave without a greeting.
"Well, Vixen, well then, how are the babbies?" said the schoolmaster, making haste towards the chimney-corner and holding the candle over the low hamper, where two extremely blind puppies lifted up their heads towards the light from a nest of flannel and wool. Vixen could not even see her master look at them without painful excitement: she got into the hamper and got out again the next moment, and behaved with true feminine folly, though looking all the while as wise as a dwarf with a large old-fashioned head and body on the most abbreviated legs.
"Why, you"ve got a family, I see, Mr. Ma.s.sey?" said Adam, smiling, as he came into the kitchen. "How"s that? I thought it was against the law here."
"Law? What"s the use o" law when a man"s once such a fool as to let a woman into his house?" said Bartle, turning away from the hamper with some bitterness. He always called Vixen a woman, and seemed to have lost all consciousness that he was using a figure of speech. "If I"d known Vixen was a woman, I"d never have held the boys from drowning her; but when I"d got her into my hand, I was forced to take to her. And now you see what she"s brought me to--the sly, hypocritical wench"--Bartle spoke these last words in a rasping tone of reproach, and looked at Vixen, who poked down her head and turned up her eyes towards him with a keen sense of opprobrium--"and contrived to be brought to bed on a Sunday at church-time. I"ve wished again and again I"d been a b.l.o.o.d.y minded man, that I could have strangled the mother and the brats with one cord."
"I"m glad it was no worse a cause kept you from church," said Adam. "I was afraid you must be ill for the first time i" your life. And I was particularly sorry not to have you at church yesterday."
"Ah, my boy, I know why, I know why," said Bartle kindly, going up to Adam and raising his hand up to the shoulder that was almost on a level with his own head. "You"ve had a rough bit o" road to get over since I saw you--a rough bit o" road. But I"m in hopes there are better times coming for you. I"ve got some news to tell you. But I must get my supper first, for I"m hungry, I"m hungry. Sit down, sit down."
Bartel went into his little pantry, and brought out an excellent home-baked loaf; for it was his one extravagance in these dear times to eat bread once a-day instead of oat-cake; and he justified it by observing, that what a schoolmaster wanted was brains, and oat-cake ran too much to bone instead of brains. Then came a piece of cheese and a quart jug with a crown of foam upon it. He placed them all on the round deal table which stood against his large arm-chair in the chimney-corner, with Vixen"s hamper on one side of it and a window-shelf with a few books piled up in it on the other. The table was as clean as if Vixen had been an excellent housewife in a checkered ap.r.o.n; so was the quarry floor; and the old carved oaken press, table, and chairs, which in these days would be bought at a high price in aristocratic houses, though, in that period of spider-legs and inlaid cupids, Bartle had got them for an old song, where as free from dust as things could be at the end of a summer"s day.
"Now, then, my boy, draw up, draw up. We"ll not talk about business till we"ve had our supper. No man can be wise on an empty stomach. But," said Bartle, rising from his chair again, "I must give Vixen her supper too, confound her! Though she"ll do nothing with it but nourish those unnecessary babbies. That"s the way with these women--they"ve got no head-pieces to nourish, and so their food all runs either to fat or to brats."
He brought out of the pantry a dish of sc.r.a.ps, which Vixen at once fixed her eyes on, and jumped out of her hamper to lick up with the utmost dispatch.
"I"ve had my supper, Mr. Ma.s.sey," said Adam, "so I"ll look on while you eat yours. I"ve been at the Hall Farm, and they always have their supper betimes, you know: they don"t keep your late hours."
"I know little about their hours," said Bartle dryly, cutting his bread and not shrinking from the crust. "It"s a house I seldom go into, though I"m fond of the boys, and Martin Poyser"s a good fellow. There"s too many women in the house for me: I hate the sound of women"s voices; they"re always either a-buzz or a-squeak--always either a-buzz or a-squeak. Mrs. Poyser keeps at the top o" the talk like a fife; and as for the young la.s.ses, I"d as soon look at water-grubs. I know what they"ll turn to--stinging gnats, stinging gnats. Here, take some ale, my boy: it"s been drawn for you--it"s been drawn for you."
"Nay, Mr. Ma.s.sey," said Adam, who took his old friend"s whim more seriously than usual to-night, "don"t be so hard on the creaturs G.o.d has made to be companions for us. A working-man "ud be badly off without a wife to see to th" house and the victual, and make things clean and comfortable."
"Nonsense! It"s the silliest lie a sensible man like you ever believed, to say a woman makes a house comfortable. It"s a story got up because the women are there and something must be found for "em to do. I tell you there isn"t a thing under the sun that needs to be done at all, but what a man can do better than a woman, unless it"s bearing children, and they do that in a poor make-shift way; it had better ha" been left to the men--it had better ha" been left to the men. I tell you, a woman "ull bake you a pie every week of her life and never come to see that the hotter th" oven the shorter the time. I tell you, a woman "ull make your porridge every day for twenty years and never think of measuring the proportion between the meal and the milk--a little more or less, she"ll think, doesn"t signify. The porridge WILL be awk"ard now and then: if it"s wrong, it"s summat in the meal, or it"s summat in the milk, or it"s summat in the water. Look at me! I make my own bread, and there"s no difference between one batch and another from year"s end to year"s end; but if I"d got any other woman besides Vixen in the house, I must pray to the Lord every baking to give me patience if the bread turned out heavy. And as for cleanliness, my house is cleaner than any other house on the Common, though the half of "em swarm with women. Will Baker"s lad comes to help me in a morning, and we get as much cleaning done in one hour, without any fuss, as a woman "ud get done in three, and all the while be sending buckets o" water after your ankles, and let the fender and the fire-irons stand in the middle o" the floor half the day for you to break your shins against "em. Don"t tell me about G.o.d having made such creatures to be companions for us! I don"t say but He might make Eve to be a companion to Adam in Paradise--there was no cooking to be spoilt there, and no other woman to cackle with and make mischief, though you see what mischief she did as soon as she"d an opportunity. But it"s an impious, unscriptural opinion to say a woman"s a blessing to a man now; you might as well say adders and wasps, and foxes and wild beasts are a blessing, when they"re only the evils that belong to this state o" probation, which it"s lawful for a man to keep as clear of as he can in this life, hoping to get quit of "em for ever in another--hoping to get quit of "em for ever in another."