"Some folks git their bread easy, I"m sure," she went on. "Ivver sen I was a bit la.s.s I"ve tewed and wrowt an" mead sike deed ower spendin"
hawpenny, whiles uthers hev a silver spoon thrust i" their gob frae t"
time they"re born!"
"T" Lord gives, an" t" Lord taks away. Ye munnot fly i" t" fece o" t"
Lord," said Bolland.
"I"m not built for flyin" anywhere," cried the old lady. "I wish I was.
"Tis flighty "uns as wins nowadays. Look at Betsy Thwaites! Look at Mrs.
Saumarez! She mun hae gotten her money varra simple te fling it about as she does. My man telt me that her little gal, t" other neet----"
"Yer cup"s empty, Mrs. Summersgill," put in Martha quickly. "Bless my heart, ye talk an" eat nowt. Speakin" o" Mrs. Saumarez, hez anyone heerd if she"s better? One o" Miss Walker"s maids said she was poorly."
Martin caught his mother"s eye, and rose. He went upstairs; the farmer followed him. The two sat near the window; on the broad ledge reposed the Bible; but Bolland did not open the book. He laid his hand on it reverently and looked at the boy.
"Martin," he began, "yer m.u.t.h.e.r tells me that Benson med yer mind sair by grabbin" te t" squire aboot yer bringin" up. Nay, lad, ye needn"t say owt. "Tis no secret. We on"y kept it frae ye for yer good. Anyhow, "tis kent noo, an" there"s nae need te chew on "t. What troubled me maist was yer m.u.t.h.e.r"s defiance when I was minded te punish ye for bein" out late."
"It won"t occur again, sir," said Martin quietly.
"Mebbe. T" spirit is willin", but t" flesh is wake. Noo, I want a straight answer te a straight question. Are these Bible lessons te yer likin"?"
It was so rare for the farmer to speak in this downright fashion that the boy was alarmed. He knew not what lay behind; but he had not earned his reputation for honesty on insufficient grounds.
"No, they"re not," he said.
Bolland groaned. "T" minister said so. Why not?"
"I can hardly explain. For one thing, I don"t understand what I read.
And often I would like to be out in the fields or on the moor when I"m forced to be here. All the same, I do try hard, and if I thought it would please you and mother, I"d do much more than give up half an hour a day."
"Ay, ay. "Tis compulsion, not love. I telt t" minister that Paul urged insistence in season an" out o" season, but he held that the teachin"
applied te doctrine, an" not te Bible lessons for t" young. Well, Martin, I"ve weighed this thing, an" not without prayer. I"ve seen many a field spoiled by bad farmin", an", when yer m.u.t.h.e.r calls my own hired men te help her agen me; when a lad like you goes fightin" young gentlemen aboot a la.s.s; when yon Frenchified ninny eggs ye on te spend money like watter, an" yer m.u.t.h.e.r gies ye t" bra.s.s next day te pay Mrs.
Saumarez, lest it should reach my ears--why, I"ve coom te believe that my teachin" is mistakken."
Martin was petrified at hearing his delinquencies laid bare in this manner. He had not realized that the extravagant display of Monday must evoke comment in a small village, and that Bolland could not fail to interpret correctly his wife"s anxiety to hush up all reference to it.
He blushed and held his tongue, for the farmer was speaking again.
"T" upshot of all this is that I"ve sought counsel. Ye"re an honest lad, I will say that fer ye, but ye"re a lad differin" frae those of yer age i" Elmsdale. If all goes well wi" me, ye"ll nivver want food nor lodgin", but an idle man is a wicked man, nine times out o" ten, an"
I"d like te see ye sattled i" summat afore I go te my rest. You"re not cut out fer t" ministry, ye"re none for farmin", an" I"d sooner see ye dead than dancin" around t" countryside after women, like poor George Pickerin". Soa ye mun gang te college an" sharpen yer wits, an" happen fower or five years o" delvin" i" books"ll shape yer life i" different gait te owt I can see at this minnit. What think you on"t?"
"Oh, I should like it better than anything else in the world."
The boy"s eyes sparkled at this most unlooked-for announcement. Never before had his heart so gone out to the rugged old man whose stern glance was now searching him through the horn-rimmed spectacles.
What magician had transformed John Bolland? Was it possible that beneath the patriarchial inflexibility of the rugged farmer"s character there lay a spring of human tenderness, a clear fountain hidden by half a century of toil and narrow religion, but now unearthed forcibly by circ.u.mstances stronger than the man himself? The boy could not put these questions into words. He was too young to understand even the meaning of psychological a.n.a.lysis. He could only sit there mute, stunned by the glory of the unexpected promise.
Of course, if a thinker like Dr. MacGregor were aware of all the facts, he would have seen that the rebellion of Martha had been a lightning stroke. The few winged words she shot at her husband on that memorable night had penetrated deeper than she thought. It chanced, too, that the revivalist preacher whom Bolland took into his confidence was a man of sound common sense, and much more acute in private life than anyone could imagine who witnessed his methods of hammering the Gospel into the dullards of the village. He it was who advised a timely diminution of devotional exercises which were likely to become distasteful to a spirited lad. He recommended the farmer to educate Martin beyond the common run, while the choice of a profession might be left to maturer consideration. Among the many influences conspiring in that hour to mold the boy"s future life, none was more wholesome than that of the tub-thumping preacher.
Bolland seemed to be gratified by Martin"s tongue-tied enthusiasm.
"Well," he said, rising. "Noo my hand"s te t" plow I"ll keep it there.
Remember, Martin, when ye tak te study t" Word o" yer own accord, ye can start at t" second chapter o" t" Third Book o" Kings. I"ll be throng wi"
t" harvest until t" middle o" September, but I"ll ax Mr. Herbert te recommend a good school. He"s a fair man, if he does lean ower much te t" Romans. Soa, fer t" next few days, run wild an" enjoy yersen. Happen ye"ll never hae as happy a time again."
He patted the boy"s head, a rare sign of sentiment, and walked heavily out of the room. Martin saw him cross the road and clout a stable-boy"s ears because the yard was not swept clean. Then he called to his foreman, and the two went off to the low-lying meadows. Bolland had been turning over in his mind Mrs. Saumarez"s remarks about draining; they were worthy of consideration and, perhaps, of experiment.
Martin remained standing at the window. So he was to leave Elmsdale, go out into the wide world beyond the hills, mix with people who spoke and acted and moved like the great ones of whom he had read in books. He was glad of it; oh, so glad! He would learn Greek and Latin, French and German. No longer would the queer-looking words trouble his eyes. Their meaning would be made clear to his understanding. He would soon acquire that nameless manner of which the squire, the vicar, Mrs. Saumarez, the young university students he met yesterday, possessed the secret. Elsie Herbert had it, and Angle was veneered with it, though in her case he knew quite well that the polish was only skin deep.
It was what he had longed for with all his heart, yet now that the longing was to be appeased he had never felt more drawn to his parents; his only by adoption, it was true; but nevertheless father and mother by every tie known to him.
By the way, whose child was he? No one had told him the literal manner in which he fell into the hands of the Bollands. Probably his real progenitors were dead long since. Were it not for the kindness of the farmer and his wife he might have been reared in that awful place, the "Union," of which the poverty-stricken old people in the parish spoke with such dread. His own folk must have been poor. Those who were well off were fond of their children and loth to part from them. Well, he must be a real son to John and Martha Bolland. They should have reason to be proud of him. He would do nothing to disgrace their honored name.
What was it his father said just now? When he studied the Bible of his own accord he might begin at the second chapter of the Second Book of Kings.
It would please the old man to know that he gave the first moment of liberty to reading the Word which was held so precious. He opened the book at the page where the long, narrow strip of black silk marked the close of the last lesson. For the first time in his life the boy brought to bear on the task an unaided and sympathetic intelligence, and this is what he read:
"Now the days of David drew nigh that he should die; and he charged Solomon his son, saying,
"I go the way of all the earth: be thou strong therefore, and shew thyself a man;
"And keep the charge of the Lord thy G.o.d, to walk in his ways, to keep his statutes, and his commandments, and his judgments, and his testimonies, as it is written in the law of Moses, that thou mayest prosper in all that thou doest, and whithersoever thou turnest thyself:
"That the Lord may continue his word which he spake concerning me, saying, If thy children take heed to their way, to walk before me in truth with all their heart and with all their soul, there shall not fail thee (said he) a man on the throne of Israel."
Not even a boy of fourteen could peruse these words unmoved, coming, as they did, after the memorable interview with Bolland. The black letters seemed to Martin to have fiery edges. They burnt themselves into his brain. In years to come they were fated to stand out unbidden before the eyes of his soul many a time and oft.
He read on, but soon experienced the old puzzled feeling when he encountered the legacy of revenge which David bequeathed to his son after delivering that inspired message. It reminded Martin of the farmer"s dignified and quite n.o.ble-hearted renunciation of his own dreams in order to follow what he thought was the better way, to be succeeded by his pa.s.sage to the farm buildings across the road in order to box the ears of a lazy hind.
Ere he closed the book, Martin went over the opening verses of the chapter. He promised himself to obey the injunctions therein contained, and it was with a host of unformed ideals churning in his brain that he descended the stairs.
Mrs. Bolland was gazing through the front door.
"Mercy on us," she cried, "if there isn"t Mrs. Saumarez coomin" doon t"
road wi" t" nuss an" her little gell. An" don"t she look ill, poor thing! I"ll lay owt she hez eaten summat as disagreed wi" her, an" it gev her a bilious attack."
"Dod, ay," said Mrs. Summersgill. "Some things are easy te swallow, but hard te digest. Ye could hev knocked me down wi" a feather when our Tommy bolted a gla.s.s ally last June twelve months."
CHAPTER XII
A FRIENDLY ARGUMENT
Mrs. Saumarez did indeed look unwell. It was not that her pallor was marked or her gait feeble; obviously, she had applied cosmetics to her face, and her carriage was as imposing and self-possessed as ever. But her cheeks were swollen, her eyes bloodshot, her eyelids puffy and discolored. To a certain extent, too, she simulated the appearance of illness by wearing a veil of heliotrope tint, for it was part of her intent to-day to persuade Elmsdale that her complete seclusion from its society during the past forty-eight hours was due to a cause beyond her own control.
In very truth this was so; she suffered from a malady far worse than any case of dyspepsia ever diagnosed by doctor. The unfortunate woman was an erratic dipsomaniac. She would exist for weeks without being troubled by a craving for drink; then, without the slightest warning or contributory error on her part, the demon of intoxication would possess her, and she yielded so utterly as to become a terror to her immediate a.s.sociates.