A quick thought shot through that subtle brain. Why not accept the mistake, throw the reputation of the girl who had scorned him into the power of this man, and thus claim the triumph of having cast her off when the certainty of her final rejection came? After a moment"s silence, and appearing to falter, he said:
"You--you saw her, then? You know that it was Ruth Jessup?"
"Ha! ha! Have I run ye to covert? Yes, I a"most saw her face; an" as to the figure, any man, with half an eye, would know that. There isn"t another loike it within fifty miles o" "The Rest.""
"Well, well, Jacob, as you saw her and me so close, I"ll not deny it.
A la.s.s will get fractious, you know, when a fellow is expected, and don"t come up to time, and follow one up, you understand. We have been sweethearting so long, and the old ones being agreeable, perhaps she is a trifle over restless about my hanging back."
"Aye, aye. This story about the young maister being o"er fond of her.
I wouldn"t put up with that."
Storms nodded his head mysteriously.
"You"ll say nothing about her coming to seek me that night."
"In course not. Only I wouldn"t a thought it of Jessup"s la.s.s, she looks so modest like."
"But when a la.s.s is--is--"
"O"er fond, and afraid of losing her sweetheart. Still, I wouldn"t a thought it of her anyhow."
"You"re not to think hard of her for anything, friend Jacob, because we may be wed after all, and no one must have a fling at my wife, mind that. When I give her up will be time enough."
The gamekeeper laughed, and nodded his head, perhaps amused at the idea that a bit of gossip, like that, could escape circulation, in a place already excited on the subject of Jessup and his daughter.
Storms having given the impression he desired, took a watch from his pocket, and glanced at the dial.
"It"s wonderful how time flits," he said, putting the watch back.
"It"s near dinner-time, and the old man will be waiting. Mind that you keep a close mouth. Good-day!"
"Good-day ter ye," responded the gamekeeper, picking up his birds, and smoothing their mottled feathers as he went along. "I wouldn"t a thought it of yon la.s.s, though, not if the parson himself had told me.
That I wouldn"t."
Meantime young Storms walked toward home, smiling, nay, at times, laughing, as he went. The cruel treachery of his conversation with the keeper filled him with vicious delight. He knew well enough that the whole subject would be made the gossip of every house in the village within twenty-four hours, and revelled in the thought. If it were possible for him to marry Ruth in the end, this scandal would be of little importance to him; if not, it should be made to sting her, and poison the returning life of young Hurst. Under any circ.u.mstances, it was an evil inspiration, over which he gloated triumphantly.
So full was the young plotter"s brain of this idea, that he was unconscious of the rapidity with which he approached home, until the farm-house hove in view, a long, stone building sheltered by orchards, flanked by outhouses, and clothed to the roof with rare old ivy. It was, in truth, something better than a common farm-dwelling, for an oriel window jutted out here, a stone balcony there, and the sunken entrance-door was of solid oak; such as might have given access to "The Rest" itself.
There had been plenty of shrubbery, with a bright flower-garden in front, and on one side of the house; but of the first, there was only a scattering and ragged bush left to struggle for life, here and there, while every sweet blossom of the past had given way to coa.r.s.e garden vegetables, which were crowded into less and less s.p.a.ce each year, by fields of barley or corn, that covered what had once been a pretty lawn and park.
"Ah, if I could but get this in fee simple. If he had died I might!"
thought the young man, as he walked round to the back door. "If he had only died!"
CHAPTER x.x.xIV.
THE SICK MAN WRITES A LETTER.
William Jessup seemed to be getting better rapidly after those few words with Ruth, that had lifted a mountain of pain from his heart, pain deeper and keener than the biting anguish of his wound, or the fever which preyed upon him continually, though he scarcely felt it, now that the anguish of mind was gone.
"I shall be better, I shall be quite well, only let me get one word to him. He is so rash. Ah, when that is done, I can rest a little," he kept thinking to himself, for the subject seemed so distasteful to Ruth that he shrunk from naming it to her. "If the old man Storms would but come, I might trust him; but he always sends that lad, who frightens Ruth. Poor child, poor child!"
Ruth was sitting by her father"s bed when these thoughts possessed him, and broke out in a tremulous exclamation, his eyes fastened tenderly on her.
"What is it, father? What are you thinking of? Nothing ails me. I must not be pitied at all while you are ill, or only because of that. What are you thinking about?"
"Only this, Ruthy. Don"t let it bother you, though. Only, if I could get a word to the young master--"
Ruth shrunk visibly from the anxious eyes bent upon her, but forced herself to answer, calmly, "If I could see him one minute, alone. Oh, if I could," she said, clasping the hands in her lap till the blood fled from them, "but it would be of no use trying."
All at once Jessup rose from his pillow, but leaned back again, gasping for breath.
"Put another pillow under my head, and prop me up a bit. I will write a line with my own hand. I wonder we never thought of it before. Bring me a pen, and the ink-bottle. The big Bible, too, from yon table. It will be all the better for that."
Ruth obeyed him at once. Why had she never thought of this? Surely a letter could be got to that sick-chamber without danger. That, at least, would relieve her father"s anxiety, and remind Hurst of her.
Why had she never thought of it before? That was not strange; Jessup was no letter writer, and, save a few figures, now and then, Ruth had not seen him use a pen half a dozen times in her life. It seemed a marvel to her even then that he should undertake so unusual a task.
The girl had a pretty desk of her own, otherwise a supply of ink and paper might have been wanting. As it was, she brought both to her father"s bed, and arranged the great Bible before him, that he might use them at once.
At any time it would have been a severe task that the gardener had undertaken; but now his weak fingers shook so fearfully that he was compelled to lay the pen down at every word, almost in despair. But the great heart gave his hand both strength and skill. After many pauses for rest, and struggles for breath, a few lines were written, and this was what they said:
MY DEAR YOUNG MASTER :--Have no fear about me. I have sworn, in soul, before Almighty G.o.d, to keep all that is within me a secret forever. No law and no blame shall ever reach you through me. Oh, that my eyes had been struck blind before they saw your face that night, when you shot me down! I would have groped in darkness to my grave, rather than have seen what I did. Sometimes I think it must have been all a dream. But it haunts me so--it haunts me so. Your father saved my life once.
Maybe I am saving his now. I hope so. Do not fear about me. I shall not be more silent in death than I am in life.
WILLIAM JESSUP
Many a misspelt word did this short epistle contain. Many an uncouth letter that linked sentences running riot with each other; but the spirit of a high resolve was there, and the good man exhausted the little strength left to him in writing it.
"You will seal this," he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely, giving her the paper to fold and direct. "Some one will take it to him."
"Yes, I will go. He shall get it. How, I do not know; but if he is well enough to read it, the paper shall reach him."
"And no one else. Remember that."
"I will remember. Oh, father, what is this terrible thing?"
"Be silent, Ruth. I will not have you question me."
"Forgive me, father."
"Yes, yes."
The poor man spoke in painful gasps. The old Bible seemed to bear him down; he struggled under the weight, but could not remove it.
Ruth lifted the book in her arms, settled the pillows under her father"s head, and would have stayed by him, but he motioned her away.
Oh, how precious, yet how perilous that paper seemed to the poor girl!