"Women is so fond o" bloodshed," said Philip; "for t" hear you talk, who"d ha" thought you"d just come fra" crying ower the grave of a man who was killed by violence? I should ha" thought you"d seen enough of what sorrow comes o" fighting. Why, them lads o" t"
_Aurora_ as they say Kinraid shot down had fathers and mothers, maybe, a looking out for them to come home."
"I don"t think he could ha" killed them," said Sylvia; "he looked so gentle."
But Molly did not like this half-and-half view of the case.
"A dare say he did kill "em dead; he"s not one to do things by halves. And a think he served "em reet, that"s what a do."
"Is na" this Hester, as serves in Foster"s shop?" asked Sylvia, in a low voice, as a young woman came through a stile in the stone wall by the roadside, and suddenly appeared before them.
"Yes," said Philip. "Why, Hester, where have you been?" he asked, as they drew near.
Hester reddened a little, and then replied, in her slow, quiet way--
"I"ve been sitting with Betsy Darley--her that is bed-ridden. It were lonesome for her when the others were away at the burying."
And she made as though she would have pa.s.sed; but Sylvia, all her sympathies alive for the relations of the murdered man, wanted to ask more questions, and put her hand on Hester"s arm to detain her a moment. Hester suddenly drew back a little, reddened still more, and then replied fully and quietly to all Sylvia asked.
In the agricultural counties, and among the cla.s.s to which these four persons belonged, there is little a.n.a.lysis of motive or comparison of characters and actions, even at this present day of enlightenment. Sixty or seventy years ago there was still less. I do not mean that amongst thoughtful and serious people there was not much reading of such books as _Mason_ on _Self-Knowledge_ and _Law"s Serious Call_, or that there were not the experiences of the Wesleyans, that were related at cla.s.s-meeting for the edification of the hearers. But, taken as a general ride, it may be said that few knew what manner of men they were, compared to the numbers now who are fully conscious of their virtues, qualities, failings, and weaknesses, and who go about comparing others with themselves--not in a spirit of Pharisaism and arrogance, but with a vivid self-consciousness that more than anything else deprives characters of freshness and originality.
To return to the party we left standing on the high-raised footway that ran alongside of the bridle-road to Haytersbank. Sylvia had leisure in her heart to think "how good Hester is for sitting with the poor bed-ridden sister of Darley!" without having a pang of self-depreciation in the comparison of her own conduct with that she was capable of so fully appreciating. She had gone to church for the ends of vanity, and remained to the funeral for curiosity and the pleasure of the excitement. In this way a modern young lady would have condemned herself, and therefore lost the simple, purifying pleasure of admiration of another.
Hester pa.s.sed onwards, going down the hill towards the town. The other three walked slowly on. All were silent for a few moments, then Sylvia said--
"How good she is!"
And Philip replied with ready warmth,--
"Yes, she is; no one knows how good but us, who live in the same house wi" her."
"Her mother is an old Quakeress, bean"t she?" Molly inquired.
"Alice Rose is a Friend, if that is what you mean," said Philip.
"Well, well! some folk"s so particular. Is William Coulson a Quaker, by which a mean a Friend?"
"Yes; they"re all on "em right-down good folk."
"Deary me! What a wonder yo" can speak to such sinners as Sylvia and me, after keepin" company with so much goodness," said Molly, who had not yet forgiven Philip for doubting Kinraid"s power of killing men. "Is na" it, Sylvia?"
But Sylvia was too highly strung for banter. If she had not been one of those who went to mock, but remained to pray, she had gone to church with the thought of the cloak-that-was-to-be uppermost in her mind, and she had come down the long church stair with life and death suddenly become real to her mind, the enduring sea and hills forming a contrasting background to the vanishing away of man. She was full of a solemn wonder as to the abiding-place of the souls of the dead, and a childlike dread lest the number of the elect should be accomplished before she was included therein. How people could ever be merry again after they had been at a funeral, she could not imagine; so she answered gravely, and slightly beside the question:
"I wonder if I was a Friend if I should be good?"
"Gi" me your red cloak, that"s all, when yo" turn Quaker; they"ll none let thee wear scarlet, so it "ll be of no use t" thee."
"I think thou"rt good enough as thou art," said Philip, tenderly--at least as tenderly as he durst, for he knew by experience that it did not do to alarm her girlish coyness. Either one speech or the other made Sylvia silent; neither was accordant to her mood of mind; so perhaps both contributed to her quietness.
"Folk say William Coulson looks sweet on Hester Rose," said Molly, always up in Monkshaven gossip. It was in the form of an a.s.sertion, but was said in the tone of a question, and as such Philip replied to it.
"Yes, I think he likes her a good deal; but he"s so quiet, I never feel sure. John and Jeremiah would like the match, I"ve a notion."
And now they came to the stile which had filled Philip"s eye for some minutes past, though neither of the others had perceived they were so near it; the stile which led to Moss Brow from the road into the fields that sloped down to Haystersbank. Here they would leave Molly, and now would begin the delicious _tete-a-tete_ walk, which Philip always tried to make as lingering as possible. To-day he was anxious to show his sympathy with Sylvia, as far as he could read what was pa.s.sing in her mind; but how was he to guess the mult.i.tude of tangled thoughts in that unseen receptacle? A resolution to be good, if she could, and always to be thinking on death, so that what seemed to her now as simply impossible, might come true--that she might "dread the grave as little as her bed"; a wish that Philip were not coming home with her; a wonder if the specksioneer really had killed a man, an idea which made her shudder; yet from the awful fascination about it, her imagination was compelled to dwell on the tall, gaunt figure, and try to recall the wan countenance; a hatred and desire of revenge on the press-gang, so vehement that it sadly militated against her intention of trying to be good; all these notions, and wonders, and fancies, were whirling about in Sylvia"s brain, and at one of their promptings she spoke,--
"How many miles away is t" Greenland seas?--I mean, how long do they take to reach?"
"I don"t know; ten days or a fortnight, or more, maybe. I"ll ask."
"Oh! feyther "ll tell me all about it. He"s been there many a time."
"I say, Sylvie! My aunt said I were to give you lessons this winter i" writing and ciphering. I can begin to come up now, two evenings, maybe, a week. T" shop closes early after November comes in."
Sylvia did not like learning, and did not want him for her teacher; so she answered in a dry little tone,--
"It"ll use a deal o" candle-light; mother "ll not like that. I can"t see to spell wi"out a candle close at my elbow."
"Niver mind about candles. I can bring up a candle wi" me, for I should be burning one at Alice Rose"s."
So that excuse would not do. Sylvia beat her brains for another.
"Writing cramps my hand so, I can"t do any sewing for a day after; and feyther wants his shirts very bad."
"But, Sylvia, I"ll teach you geography, and ever such a vast o" fine things about t" countries, on t" map."
"Is t" Arctic seas down on t" map?" she asked, in a tone of greater interest.
"Yes! Arctics, and tropics, and equator, and equinoctial line; we"ll take "em turn and turn about; we"ll do writing and ciphering one night, and geography t" other."
Philip spoke with pleasure at the prospect, but Sylvia relaxed into indifference.
"I"m no scholard; it"s like throwing away labour to teach me, I"m such a dunce at my book. Now there"s Betsy Corney, third girl, her as is younger than Molly, she"d be a credit to you. There niver was such a la.s.s for pottering ower books."
If Philip had had his wits about him, he would have pretended to listen to this proposition of a change of pupils, and then possibly Sylvia might have repented making it. But he was too much mortified to be diplomatic.
"My aunt asked me to teach _you_ a bit, not any neighbour"s la.s.s."
"Well! if I mun be taught, I mun; but I"d rayther be whipped and ha"
done with it," was Sylvia"s ungracious reply.
A moment afterwards, she repented of her little spirit of unkindness, and thought that she should not like to die that night without making friends. Sudden death was very present in her thoughts since the funeral. So she instinctively chose the best method of making friends again, and slipped her hand into his, as he walked a little sullenly at her side. She was half afraid, however, when she found it firmly held, and that she could not draw it away again without making what she called in her own mind a "fuss." So, hand in hand, they slowly and silently came up to the door of Haytersbank Farm; not unseen by Bell Robson, who sate in the window-seat, with her Bible open upon her knee. She had read her chapter aloud to herself, and now she could see no longer, even if she had wished to read more; but she gazed out into the darkening air, and a dim look of contentment came like moonshine over her face when she saw the cousins approach.
"That"s my prayer day and night," said she to herself.
But there was no unusual aspect of gladness on her face, as she lighted the candle to give them a more cheerful welcome.
"Wheere"s feyther?" said Sylvia, looking round the room for Daniel.
"He"s been to Kirk Moorside Church, for t" see a bit o" th" world, as he ca"s it. And sin" then he"s gone out to th" cattle; for Kester"s ta"en his turn of playing hissel", now that father"s better."