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ONE:

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ONE:They flowed through Playden like a torrent through an open sluice, sweeping up and carrying on all sorts of flotsam��villagers from cottage doors, ploughboys from the farms down by the Military Canal, gipsies from Iden Wood ... a mixed multitude, which the central mass absorbed, till all was one steaming and shouting blackness.The population had altered too. Old Gideon Teazel had died some years ago, and his son Jasper was boss in his place. He was unlike his father both in character and physique, an undersized little ruffian, seasoned by a long career in horse-stealing, who beat his wife openly on the caravan steps, and boasted that he had landed more flats at thimble-rig than any thimble-engro in England. He would have cheated the shirt off any man at the Show, and established a sort of ascendancy through sheer dread of his cunning. The only man who did not fear him was Mexico Bill, a half-breed in charge of the cocoanut shie. Mexico Bill feared only the man who could knock him out, and that man had not yet been found in Boarzell Fair. As a matter of fact he was usually pretty genial and docile, but he had been wounded in the head by Indians long ago, and [Pg 352]sometimes went mad and ran amok. On these occasions the only thing to do was to trip him up, and enrol as many volunteers as possible to sit on him till he came to his senses.

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ONE:"O yes, my brave heart!" said the foreman, with something of ridicule; "they are spirits, but spirits in the flesh��like good wine in stout bottles."

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ONE:There was naturally a party who championed Manor rights��Sir John Bardon was a good landlord, and would have been better had his budget cramped him less. Now he would sell Boarzell in building plots, and his tenants would reap the benefit. He had not inclosed the land for himself. More houses would mean more trade for shops and farms, Peasmarsh might flower into a country town....

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TWO:"Rose��you know��how can you?��that's worse than alone, surelye!""Aye," resumed Wat, as he observed the hesitation of the retainers; "stand back, and I'll warrant ye I shall go quicker than the whole tribe of ye could drag me. This is no place for me, where, if a man doesn't tell what's in his mind, the halloo is given to the pack to put him in the��tumbrel! ha, ha, ha!" Taking advantage of their indecision, he had walked on to the door of the apartment while speaking, and his bitter derisive laugh was heard as he crossed the threshold.

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THREE:"Wot d'you mean, Reuben?"

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THREE:"I dursn't now��it's no use��you're a hard man."The afternoon was very still and soft. It was full of the smell of apples��of apples warm and sunny on the trees, of apples fallen and rotting in the grass, of apples dry and stored in the loft. There were little apples on the walls of the house, and their skins were warm and bursting in the heat.

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THREE:"Oh, certainly, certainly. You surely wouldn't think of doing that, Backfield. I promise you the full value of the cow."

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TWO:He pottered about the farm all the morning. Somehow these terrible events reminded him of the birth of his first child, when he had moped and fretted and sulked��and all for nothing. That seemed twenty years ago. Now he did not fret for nothing. His wife was dying, still young, still sometimes beautiful. His mind was full of jumbled memories of her��he saw her as Harry's sweetheart, sitting with him on Boarzell while he sang; he saw her in the dairy where he had first kissed her stooping over the cream; he saw her as his bride, flushed and timid beside him at the wedding-feast, as the mother of his boys, proud and full-bosomed. But mostly his thoughts were more trivial and tattered��memories of her in certain gowns, in a cap she had bought because, having three little boys, she thought she must "dress older"; memories of little things she had said��"Why don't you keep bees, Reuben? Why don't you keep bees? They're such pretty things, and I like the honey...."

THREE:"What! the audacious monk who thrice entered this castle to insult its lord?""Nature!" snorted Reuben��"wot's Nature, I'd lik to know?"

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THREE:"Yes, f?ather, but��"

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THREE:"No, sir, I believe you have little reason to love him any more than other people��"Directly he had said the words, he looked over at Rose to see how she would receive them. Her eyelashes lay black and curly against her cheek, then they lifted slowly, and her eyes looked out from under the half-raised lids with a kind of demure roguishness. At the same time her lower lip seemed to quiver and plump out, while the corners of her mouth rose and curled. He suddenly felt a desire to plant a kiss fairly on that wet red mouth, which from away across the room seemed to pout towards him.

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THREE:

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TWO:"Thanks, f?ather, but if you offered to give us to-day every penny you've got, I'd let you have no child of mine. Maybe we'll be poor and miserable and have to work hard, but he w?an't be one-half so wretched wud us as he'd be wud you. D'you think I disremember my own childhood and the way you m?ade us suffer? You're an old man, but you're hearty��you might live to a hundred��and I'd justabout die of sorrow if I[Pg 442] thought any child of mine wur living wud you and being m?ade as miserable as you m?ade us. I'd rather see my boy dead than at Odiam.""Oh, mother!" shrieked Margaret. "Fly!��to the abbey, and take sanctuary!"

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TWO:It was about half a mile to the church��over the hanger of Tidebarn Hill. The morning was full of soft loamy smells, quickening under the February sun, which is so pale and errant, but sometimes seems to have the power to make the earth turn in its sleep and dream of spring. Peasmarsh church-tower, squab like a toadstool, looked at itself in the little spread of water at the foot of the churchyard. Beside this pool, darkened with winter sedges, stood Parson Barnaby, the Curate-in-Charge of Peasmarsh, Beckley, and Iden. His boots under his surplice were muddy and spurred, for he had just galloped over from a wedding at Iden, and his sweat dropped on the book as he read "I know that my[Pg 28] Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth."Isabella grew pale as she listened; for by some strange instinct she had so connected Holgrave with the abduction of her child, that his flight seemed now to have wrested from her her last hope.$69/m