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"There's Harry!"

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The reader will, perhaps, feel some surprise that an esquire of the rich and powerful Lord de Boteler should be thus competing with the yeoman for the hand of a portionless humble nief; but it is necessary to observe, in the first place, that in the fifteenth century esquires were by no means of the consideration they had enjoyed a century before. Some nobles, indeed, who were upholders of the ancient system, still regarded an esquire as but a degree removed from a knight, but these were merely exceptions;the general rule, at the period we are speaking of, was to consider an esquire simply as a principal attendant, without the least claim to any distinction beyond. Such a state of things accorded well with the temper of De Boteler;he could scarcely have endured the equality, which, in some measure, formerly subsisted between the esquire and his lord. With him the equal might be familiar, but the inferior must be submissive; and it was, perhaps, the humility of Calverley's deportment that alone had raised him to the situation he now held. Calverley, besides, had none of the requisites of respectability which would have entitled him to take a stand among a class such as esquires had formerly been.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 Boarzellhis father had not been robbed, for his father did not care, but he, Reuben, had been robbedand 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:

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TWO:If he lost Alice now he might be losing her for a dream,[Pg 329] a bubble, a will-o'-the-wisp. Surely he would be wise to pull what he could out of the wreck, take her, and forget all else. Only a fool would turn away from her now, and press forward. In the old days it had been different, he had been successful thennow he was a failure, and saw his chance to fail honourably. Better take it before it was too late.

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  • FORE:"I'm sorryfather's not at home," she said in answer to his question.

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  • FORE:He was just going to turn back into the room, his limbs aching pleasantly for the sheets, when he noticed a faint glow in the sky to southward. At first he thought it was a shred of sunset still burning, then realised it was too far south for Junealso it seemed to flicker in the wind. Then suddenly it spread itself into a fan, and cast up a shower of sparks.

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  • FORE:There was a restless anxiety that morning, in every inhabitant of the castle, from old Luke, the steward, who was fretting and fidgetting lest the lady should consider him too old for the stewardship, to the poor varlet who fed the dogs, and the dirty nief who scoured the platters. This anxiety increased when a messenger arrived to announce that the noble party were on the road from Oxford, and might be expected in a few hours: and when at length a cloud of dust was observed in the distance, old Luke, bare headed, and followed by the retainers and domestics, went forth to greet with the accustomed homage, De Boteler and his bride.

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  • FORE:Towards evening, however, a new alarm stirred him a little. He remembered Bardon's coat, which he had brought back with him to Odiam. If he did not take it over to Flightshot, the young Squire might call for it at Eggs Hole. Robert was most anxious that he should not meet Bessie again; he could not forget the admiration in his eyes, and was consumed with fear and jealousy lest he should try to take his treasure from him, or frighten or hurt her in any way. It is true that Bardon had a blameless record, and also a most shy and[Pg 156] fastidious disposition, but Robert was no psychologist. And if anyone had said that the Squire's gaze had merely been one of tolerant approval of a healthy country-wench, and that he would not have taken the peerless Bessie as a gift, and rather pitied the man who could see anything to love in that bursting figure and broad yokelish facethen Robert would not only have disbelieved him, but fought him into the bargain.

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  • FORE:"I reckon he's half starvedand he looks ill too.""Please you, my lord," said he, "while searching among Thomas Calverley's writings for parchment, I discovered this."

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  • FORE:"I w?an't have no hemmed poetry in my family!" stormed Reuben, for Albert had as usual stage-managed a "scene." "You've got your work to do, and you'll justabout do it."

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THREE:"Wot more have you got fur me?"

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THREE:"There is a resemblance, my lord," said Oxford: "but it is not likenesses nor assertions that will satisfy meI require proof!"

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THREE:David and William looked at each other, and hesitated.

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ONE:Once more she fell back into her state of terror and[Pg 293] delight. His coolness seemed to paralyse hershe could not act. She could only lie and watch him, trembling. Why had he changed so?he, who had never faltered in his attitude of stiff respect under her most outrageous and flirtatious digs.Bessie was a sturdily built little person, but the weight of her was a rich delight, and if his arms strained, they strained with tenderness as well as with effort. Under them her frock crushed and gave out a fragrance of crumpled cotton, her hand was warm against his neck, and on his cheek tickled her soft hair. The shadows ran towards them from the corners of the field, slipping like ghosts over the grass, and one or two pale stars kindled before them, where the sky dropped into the woods.... An owl lifted his note of sadness, which wandered away over the fields to Ellenwhorne....
FORE:Robert de Vere took the scroll from Leicester with a haughty air, and glancing over the contents, without vouchsafing a word, turned away and rejoined the king.

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TWO:At the wedding Rose fairly dazed the onlookers. She wore a dress of heavy white satin, with a white lace veiland a bustle. It was the first bustle that had ever been seen in Peasmarsh, or even in Rye. In itself it was devastating enough, but it soon acquired a prophetic and metaphorical significance which made it even more impressive. Spectators saw in it the forecast of Odiam's downfall"He can't stand that," said Brazier, the new man at Totease, "she's a Jezebubble.""Only it ?un't her head as she's tired this time," said Ticehurst."She shud have worn it in front of her, and then we shud have bin interested," said Cooper of Kitchenhour.

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TWO:So he tramped off towards the Rectory, wondering a little what he should say when he got there, but leaving it to the inspiration of the moment. He warmed his honest heart with thoughts of Albert sleeping peacefully and dying beautifully, though it chilled him a little to think of death. Why could not Albert live?Pete would have liked to think of him lying for years and years in that big untidy bed, pathetic and feeble, and always claiming by his weakness the whole strength that a day of unresting toil had left his brother."Hir me duval!" said Meridiana to herself, "but they've forgotten the poor person's child."
THREE:For though he did not care for Odiam he loved the country round it, and made a wonderland and a dreamland of it. He did not see in Boarzell Robert's tree-capped waste, though neither did he see his father's enemy and heart's delight. He saw instead a kind of enchanted ground, full of mysteries of sun and moon, full of secrets that were sometimes beautiful, sometimes terrifying. It seemed to have a soul and a voice, a low voice, hoarse yet sweet; and its soul was not the soul of a man or of a beast, but the soul of a fetch, some country sprite, that clumped, and yet could skip ... he[Pg 128] used to feel it skipping with him in the evening wind when the dusk made the heather misty round his knees ... but he knew that it danced heavy-footed round the farm at night, clumping, clumping, like a clod. THREE:"Thank heaven I saved them rootses!" he muttered as he walked. THREE:But Reuben did not want her to work. She was rather surprised at this at first, for she had expected that she would go on helping Mrs. Backfield as she had done before her marriage. Reuben, however, was quite firmhis wife was not to redden her skin by stooping over fires, or coarsen her hands by dabbling them in soapsuds. An occasional visit to the dairy or some half-playful help on bread-baking days was all he would allow.
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"I w?an't listen to you while you're lik that."But Rose was in a devilish mood."What time is it, dear?""Aye," said the galleyman, "you marvel what has become of the red and white, and the short, thick, yellow curls. Oh, you landsmen know nothing of the wonders that sea-suns and sea-storms can work. To be sure, it never would entirely change yellow into black,so, when I wanted to turn Genoese, I used a certain drug that made my eyes and hair look as if they belonged to the same master.""He died quiet, I hope?"
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