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"Because I hate it. It's spoiling your life. It's making a beast and a maniac of you. You think of nothing��absolutely nothing��but a miserable rubbish-heap that most people would be throwing their old kettles on.""A girl�� Oh, no! I want another boy.""Thomas Calverley," replied Holgrave, firmly, "if you mean me to say whether I burned my cottage or not, I will tell these honest men (looking at the jury) that I did so. All here present, know the rest."

ONE:Wat Turner, whose attention was anxiously fixed on the proceedings, now stept forward, and forcing his way till he stood opposite the Baron, demanded in a voice of mingled anger and supplication, "May I be heard, Baron De Boteler?"

ONE:He kept his body motionless, but in his heart strange things were moving. That hatred which had run through him like a knife just before he lost consciousness in the battle of Boarzell, suddenly revived and stabbed him again. It was no longer without focus, and it was no longer without purpose. Boarzell ... the name seemed to dance before him in letters of fire and blood. He was suffering for Boarzell��his father had not been robbed, for his father did not care, but he, Reuben, had been robbed��and he had fought for Boarzell on Boarzell, and now he was bearing shame and pain for Boarzell. Somehow he had never till this day, till this moment, been so irrevocably bound to the land he had played on as a child, on which he had driven his father's cattle, which had broken with its crest the sky he gazed on from his little bed. Boarzell was his, and at the same time he hated Boarzell. For some strange reason he hated it as much as those who had taken it from him and as those who were punishing him because of it. He wanted to tame it, as a man tames a bull, with a ring in its nose.

ONE:Chapter 7

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TWO:"There's no use you waiting and vrothering me��my mind's m?ade up."Benjamin occasionally stole afternoons in Rye��if he was discovered there would be furious scenes with Reuben, but he had learned cunning, and also, being of a sporting nature, was willing to take risks. Some friends of his were building a ship down at the Camber. Week by week he watched her grow, watched the good timber fill in her ribs, watched her decks spread themselves, watched her masts rise, and at last smelt the good smell of her tarring. She was a three-masted schooner, and her first voyage was to be to the Canaries. Her builders drank many a toast with Backfield's[Pg 270] truant son, who gladly risked his father's blows to be with them in their work and hearty boozing. He forgot the farmyard smells he hated in the shipyard smells he loved, and his slavery in oaths and rum��with buckets of tar and coils of rope, and rousing chanties and stories of strange ships.

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THREE:

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THREE:"Stephen!" said the galleyman, from below.The next few weeks were for Reuben full of bitter, secret humiliation. He might show a proud face and a straight back to the world, but his heart was full of miserable madness. It was not so much his son's disgrace that afflicted him as the attitude of people towards it��the Bardons with their regrets and apologies, the small fry with their wonder and cheap blame. What filled him with rage and disgust beyond all else was the thought that some people imagined that Robert had disgraced Odiam��as if a fool like Robert, with his tinpot misdoings, had it in his power to disgrace a farm like Odiam! This idea maddened him at times, and he went to absurd lengths to show men how little he cared. Yet everywhere he seemed to see pity leering out of eyes, he seemed to see lips inaudibly forming the words: "poor fellow"��"what a blow for his schemes!"��"how about the farm?��now he'll lie low for a bit."

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THREE:"Wot does a liddle thing lik that count when it's all so miserable?""Yes, in a cunning, brutish sort of way��like a gorilla when he's set his heart on a particular cocoanut. Boarzell's his cocoanut, and he's done some smart things to get it��and in one way at least he's above the gorilla, for he can enslave other people of superior intelligence to sweat under his orders for what they care nothing about."

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THREE:

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THREE:Unluckily, however, he was not made for a career of prolonged fraud, and he ingloriously foundered in that sea of practical details through which the cunning man must steer his schemes. He fixed the number of rabbits to be sold at Rye as ten a week, pocketing the surplus whether it were one or six. This was a pretty fair average, but its invariable occurrence for seven or eight weeks could not fail to strike Reuben, whose brain was not placid and slow-moving like his son's.

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THREE:Rate, skate, and crabs."I'm only not pretending as much as you are. Why shud you pretend? Pretending 'ull give you naun sweet to remember when I'm gone."

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TWO:Reuben came in tired after a day's prodding and bargaining in Robertsbridge market-place. Rose, like[Pg 271] a wise woman, gave him his supper, and then, still wise, came and sat on his knee."I dare say you won't have to��I'm not staying out all night."

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THREE:However, though he had never deceived himself that Rose's sympathetic tendernesses meant any real sharing of his ambition, he was soon convinced that to marry her[Pg 253] would be materially to help himself in the battle which was now dragging a little on his side. He wanted ready money��her settlements would provide that; and her heirship of Lardner held out dazzling hopes for the future. He wanted children��where could he find a healthier mother? He wanted to raise the dignity of Odiam, and could hardly have thought of a better means than marriage with the niece of one of the wealthiest and most important farmers in the parish. To crown all, he gave himself an adorable woman, young, lovely, tender, and gay. This consideration could not have dragged him contrary to his ambition, but combined with it, it could give to an otherwise very practical and material plan all the heats of passion and the glories of romance."Ah, Tom Merritt!" said the smith, raising his head and recognizing, in the dusk, a stout, active, young man, a mason, who resided at Winchcombe.

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THREE:The latter became tired first of his reserve, and perceiving that Calverley, like a spirit, would only speak when spoken to, resolved, with characteristic modesty, to plunge in medias res.

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THREE:

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TWO:"Sir, that would be folly!" cried his son.

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She could not tell him. If he did not understand how every note from Harry's violin would jab and tear the tortured memories she was trying to put to sleep��if he did not understand that of himself, she would never be able to explain it to him.Things had been getting worse and worse ever since. No labourer would work for them��no neighbour would purchase from, or sell them, any necessaries, and all the produce of Gray's individual industry was carried to Gloucester; for at the populous market of that city, he sold and bought without it being known that the ban of excommunication cut him off from all social intercourse with his kind.Chapter 8

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