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Albert could not help a grudging admiration of his father. Reuben could be angry and fling threats, and yet keep at the same time a certain splendour, which no[Pg 139] violence or vulgarity could dim. The boy, in spite of his verses, which were execrable enough, had a poet's eye for the splendid, and he could not be blind to the qualities of his father's tyranny, even though that tyranny crushed him at times. Reuben was now forty-three; a trifle heavier in build, perhaps, but otherwise as fine and straight a man as he had been at twenty. His clear brown skin, keen eyes, thick coal-black hair, his height, his strength, his dauntless spirit, could not fail to impress one in whom the sense of life and beauty was developing. Albert even once began a poem to his father:

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  • ONE:The wind puffed gently towards him, bringing him the song and the soft peach-smell of the gorse. Harry was a musician already of note among the farms; he had a beautiful voice, and there was very little he could not do with his fiddle, though of late this had been neglected for the claims of work and love. To-day he was singing an old song Reuben knew well"The Song of Seth's House": TWO:Caro, regardless of the suet on her hands, hid her face in them.
  • ONE:"Let his wife follow him!" repeated Calverley, looking at Oakley with unaffected astonishment; but instantly recollecting himself, he added"I don't know;" and again, after pausing a moment, continued"You, of course, do not mean to keep faith with that seditious monk?" looking with a scrutinizing glance at Oakley. TWO:For the next two or three days the boy was desperate. His manhood was in a trap. He thought of a dozen plans for breaking free, but whichever way he turned the steel jaws seemed to close on him. What could he do? He was not strong and ruthless like his father, or he might have broken his way out; he was not clever like Richard, or he might have contrived it. Money, moneythat was what lay at the bottom of his helplessness. Even if he had a very little he could take Bessie away and marry her, and then they could both find work together on a farm. But he had not a penny. He tried to borrow some of Pete, but Pete showed him his empty pockets:
  • ONE:"Is she buried like a Christian?" passionately interrogated the stranger. "No," he continued, in a quieter tone, "she was buried last night in the high road without kyste or shroud, or prayer, just as one would throw a dead dog overboard: but there is no use talking nowthis is not what I came for. I came to ask if ye will give me a hand to get her out again." TWO:And years of remorse and despair been your fate,
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FORE:
  • THREE:With Richard things were different. He despised Reuben as bestial, and sometimes jeopardised his skin by nearly showing his contempt. He now had a peculiar friendship with Anne Bardon. They had met accidentally a second time, and deliberately half a dozen more. In Richard Anne had made a discoveryhe appealed to her imagination, which ran on severe lines. She sympathised with his ambition to break free from the grind and grossness of Odiam, and resolved to help him as much as she could. She lent him books, and guided him with her superior knowledge and education.

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  • THREE:It was some months since Sir John Bardon, Squire of the Manor of Flightshot, had taken advantage of the Inclosure Act and man?uvred a bill for the inclosure of Boarzell. Since then there had been visits of commissioners, roamings of surveyors, deliveries of schedules, strange talk of turbary and estovers, fire-bote and house-bote. The neighbourhood was troubled, perplexed. Then perplexity condensed into indignation when all that Inclosure stood for became knownno more pasturage for the cow or goat which meant all the difference between wheaten and oaten bread, no more wood-gleanings for fire or wind-beaten roof, no more of the tussocky grass for fodder, or of gorse to toughen palings against escaping fowls.

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  • THREE:"Come forward, keeper," continued the baron, "and state how these arrows came into your hands!"

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  • THREE:The abbot then lowered his staff, the crosierer once more preceded him, and, followed by the monks, he proudly walked forth from the court, the people, as he passed, forming a passage, and humbly bending forward to receive his blessing.

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  • THREE:He shrugged his shouldersthere must have been some foreign streak in his yokel's blood.

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  • THREE:The sound of voices came from the passage outside the kitchen. Reuben was talking to the girl. A word or two reached them.

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FORE:
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FORE:"I hate these romantic realiststhey're worse than the old-fashioned Zola sort.""Besides, it ?un't likely as we'd do as well fur ourselves as Richard. We've no Miss Bardon to trouble about usreckon we'd come to grief like Albert."
FORE:"Great God!" cried Holgrave, rushing forward to look at the infant,the feelings of the father overcoming every selfish consideration.
THREE:One day Albert sent his father a message through Pete."To dig up the old witch out of the grave!" inquired the foreman with a stare of astonishment. "To unearth a dead body! By the green wax! man, your long fast has touched your brain!" Sign Up
FORE:
    FORE:"Oh, will you! Well, there'll be naun to prevent you when you're out of this houseand out you go to-night; I'll have no Radical hogs on my farm. I'm shut of you!"John Ball, in the meantime, had passed on from the chapel, heedless of the greetings that met him at every step, and of the riot and confusion that would, at another time, have called forth his rebuke. At length, as he passed the royal apartments, he heard sounds that seemed to recal him to himselfthey were the shrieks of woman! Throwing back his cowl, and casting an indignant glance at Kirkby, who had just emerged from the building, he said
THREE:Naomi's illness dragged. Sometimes Reuben suspected her of malingering, she so obviously did not want to get well. He guessed her reasons, and took an opportunity to tell her of the doctor's verdict. The struggle was in abeyanceat least her share of it. Naturewhich was really what he was fighting in Boarzellhad gained a temporary advantage, and his outposts had been forced to retire."How did they do it?" Sign Up
FORE:He tore his hand free, and began clawing and beating at his face.
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FORE:"What ails you, Stephen," asked Margaret, alarmed at the strange paleness of the yeoman's countenance, and the agitation of his manner as he entered the cottage on the afternoon the child died. But Holgrave, without replying to her interrogatory, hastily closed and bolted the door. He then drew the large oak table from the side of the wall, and placed it as a barricade before it. "Stephen, what means this bolting and barring?" inquired Edith, as she saw with surprise his defensive preparations. "What fear you, my son?"
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