""You agreed to hand her over for one gallon, first along," says t"other," an" a bargain"s a bargain."
"Says the woman, "You"re a pair o" hair-splitting shammicks, the pair of "ee. An" how much beer be I to have for my weddin" portion?"
(says she)--"for that"s all _I_ care about, one way or t"other."
"Now Ould Wounds looked at the woman; an" "tis to be thought he found her eyeable, for he axed up sharp--
""Would "ee kick over these two, an" marry me, for a bottle o" gin?"
""That would I."
""An" to be called My Lady--Countess o" Bellarmine?"
""Better an" better."
""I shall whack "ee."
""I don"t care."
""I shall kick an" cuff an" flog "ee like a span"el dog," says he: "by my body! I shall make "ee repent."
""Give "ee leave to try," says she.
"An" that"s how th" Earl o" Bellarmine courted his wife. He took her into the bar an" treated her to a bottle o" gin on the spot. At nine o"clock that evenin" she tuk hold of his stirrup-leather an" walked beside "en, afoot, up to Castle Cannick. Next day, their banns were axed in church, an" in dree weeks she was My Ladyship.
""Twas a battle-royal that began then. Ould Wounds dressed the woman up to the nines, an" forced all the bettermost folk i" the county to pay their calls an" treat her like one o" the blood; and then, when the proud guests stepped into their chariots an" druv away, he"d fall to, an" lick her across the shoulders wi" his ridin"-whip, to break her sperrit. "Twas the happiest while o" th" ould curmudgeon"s life, I do b"lieve; for he"d found summat he cudn" tame in a hurry.
There was a n.o.ble pond afore the house, i" those days, wi" urns an"
heathen G.o.ds around the brim, an" twice he dragged her through it in her night-gown, I"ve heerd, an" always dined wi" a pistol laid by his plate, alongside the knives an" p.r.o.ngs, to scare her. But not she!
"An" next he tried to burn her in her bed: an" that wasn" no good.
"An" last of all he fell i" love wi" her: an" that broke her."
"One day--the tale goes--she made up her mind an" ordered a shay an"
pair from the Pack-Horse. The postillion was to be waitin" by the gate o" the deer-park--the only gate that hadn"t a lodge to it--at ten o"clock that night. "Twas past nine afore dinner was done, an"
she got up from her end o" the table an" walked across to kiss th"
ould fellow. He, "pon his side, smiled on her, pleased as Punch; for "twas little inore"n a fortni"t since he"d discovered she was the yapple of his eye. She said "Good night" an" went up-stairs to pack a few things in a bag, he openin" the door and shuttin" it upon her.
Then he outs wi" his watch, waits a couple o" minutes, an" slips out o" the house.
"At five minutes to ten comes my ladyship, glidin" over the short turf o" the deer-park, an" glancin" over her shoulder at the light in his lordship"s libery window. "Twas burnin" in true watch-an"-fear-nothin" style, an" there, by the gate, was the shay and horses, and postillion, wrapped up and flapping his arms for warmth, who touched his cap and put down the steps for her.
""Drive through Tregarrick," says she, "an" don"t spare whip-cord."
"Slam went the door, up climbed the postillion, an" away they went like a house afire. There was half-a-moon up an" a h.o.a.r frost gatherin", an" my lady, lean in" back on the cushions, could see the head and shoulders of the postillion bob-bobbing, till it seemed his head must work loose and tumble out of his collar.
"The road they took, sir, is the same that runs down the valley afore our very eyes. An" "pon the brow o"t, just when it comes in sight, the off horse turned restive. In a minute "twas as much as the post-boy could ha" done to hold "en. _But he didn" try_.
Instead, he fell to floggin" harder, workin" his arm up an" down like a steam-engin".
""What the jiminy are "ee doin?" calls out her ladyship--or words to that effec"--clutchin" at the side o" the shay, an" tryin" to stiddy hersel".
""I thought I wasn" to spare whip-cord," calls back the post-boy.
"An" with that he turned i" the saddle; an" "twas the face o" her own wedded husband, as ghastly white as if "t burned a"ready i" the underground fires.
"Seem" it, her joints were loosed, an" she sat back white as he; an"
down over the hill they swung at a breakneck gallop, shay lurchin"
and stones flyin".
"About thirty yards from where we"m sittin", sir, Ould Wounds caught the near rein twice round his wrist an lean"t back, slowly pullin"
it, till his face was slewed round over his left shoulder an"
grinnin" in my lady"s face.
"An" that was the last look that pa.s.sed atween "em. For now feeling the wheels on gra.s.s and the end near, he loosed the rein and fetched the horse he rode a cut atween the ears--an" that"s how "twas,"
concluded Seth, lamely.
Like most inferior narrators, he shied at the big fence, flinched before the climax. But as he ended, I flung a short glance downward at the birches and black water, and took up my rod again with a shiver.
FROM A COTTAGE IN TROY.
I.--A HAPPY VOYAGE.
The cottage that I have inhabited these six years looks down on the one quiet creek in a harbour full of business. The vessels that enter beneath Battery Point move up past the grey walls and green quay-doors of the port to the jetties where their cargoes lie.
All day long I can see them faring up and down past the mouth of my creek; and all the year round I listen to the sounds of them--the dropping or lifting of anchors, the _wh-h-ing!_ of a siren-whistle cutting the air like a tw.a.n.ged bow, the concertina that plays at night, the rush of the clay cargo shot from the jetty into the lading ship. But all this is too far remote to vex me. Only one vessel lies beneath my terrace; and she has lain there for a dozen years.
After many voyages she was purchased by the Board of Guardians in our district, dismasted, and anch.o.r.ed up here to serve as a hospital-ship in case the cholera visited us. She has never had a sick man on board from that day to the present. But once upon a time three people spent a very happy night on her deck, as you shall hear.
She is called _The Gleaner_.
I think I was never so much annoyed in my life as on the day when Annie, my only servant, gave me a month"s "warning." That was four years ago; and she gave up cooking for me to marry a young watchmaker down at the town--a youth of no mark save for a curious distortion of the left eyebrow (due to much gazing through a circular gla.s.s into the bowels of watches), a frantic a.s.sortment of religious convictions, a habit of playing the fiddle in hours of ease, and an absurd name--Tubal Cain Bonaday. I noticed that Annie softened it to "Tubey."
Of course I tried to dissuade her, but my arguments were those of a wifeless man, and very weak. She listened to them with much patience, and went off to buy her wedding-frock. She was a plain girl, without a scintilla of humour; and had just that sense of an omelet that is vouchsafed to one woman in a generation.
So she and Tubal Cain were married at the end of the month, and disappeared on their honeymoon, no one quite knew whither. They went on the last day of April.
At half-past eight in the evening of May 6th I had just finished my seventh miserable dinner. My windows were open to the evening, and the scent of the gorse-bushes below the terrace hung heavily underneath the verandah and stole into the room where I sat before the white cloth, in the lamp-light. I had taken a cigarette and was reaching for the match-box when I chanced to look up, and paused to marvel at a singular beauty in the atmosphere outside.
It seemed a final atonement of sky and earth in one sheet of vivid blue. Of form I could see nothing; the heavens, the waters of the creek below, the woods on the opposite sh.o.r.e were simply indistinguishable--blotted out in this one colour. If you can recall certain advertis.e.m.e.nts of Mr. Reckitt, and can imagine one of these transparent, with a soft light glowing behind it, you will be as near as I can help you to guessing the exact colour. And, but for a solitary star and the red lamp of a steamer lying off the creek"s mouth, this blue covered the whole firmament and face of the earth.
I lit my cigarette and stepped out upon the verandah. In a minute or so a sound made me return, fetch a cap from the hall, and descend the terrace softly.
My feet trod on bluebells and red-robins, and now and then crushed the fragrance out of a low-lying spike of gorse. I knew the flowers were there, though in this curious light I could only see them by peering closely. At the foot of the terrace I pulled up and leant over the oak fence that guarded the abrupt drop into the creek.
There was a light just underneath. It came from the deck of the hospital-ship, and showed me two figures standing there--a woman leaning against the bulwarks, and a man beside her. The man had a fiddle under his chin, and was playing "Annie Laurie," rather slowly and with a deal of sweetness.
When the melody ceased, I craned still further over the oak fence and called down, "Tubal Cain!"