The Wayfarers by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER IV
WE START UPON OUR PILGRIMAGE
All the way I had come I had heightened my disguise by mouching alongwith my hat low down over my eyes, the collar of my coat turned up tomy ears, and my hands stuck deep in my pockets. And so effectual wasthis mode, that though Cynthia was awaiting me in fear and impatience,I had walked right up to her and taken her by the arm ere she knew Iwas so near.
"Oh, Jack," she sobbed, "I--I am so glad. S--something s--seemed totell me that you would never return. I was certain you were ta'en, andthat I should never see you again, except between the iron bars of aprison."
I kissed her.
"Foolish child," says I, with dignified forgetfulness, "to entertainsuch silly fears. Alas, you women, that you should give way toweaknesses of this sort! What would you say of us men now, if we wereso easily afflicted?"
It was fine the way in which I wielded my advantage, and clearly showedto the shrinking little creature how ill the poor weak female charactercompared with the hardy, resolute male. But as this instance goes toshow, I do not really think that the masculine character is so muchsterner than the feminine; for is not its pre-eminence largely a matterof assumption? A man scorns and conceals the weaknesses a womanflaunts and cherishes.
The twilight was deepening rapidly and giving way to an evening ofheavy clouds and rainy wind, when arm-in-arm we started to walk we knewnot where. We started to walk into the night and the country places,away from our enemies, and from those who would sever or deter us. Wehad not the faintest idea as to the place we were bound for. One spotwas as good as another. Involuntarily we turned into the park,although we knew not why we should. But I suppose we felt that everystep we took into this mysterious nowhere of our destination, we wereleaving the law behind, and that together, friendless and resourceless,but ever hand-in-hand, we were beginning our lives anew.
We moved away at a brisk round pace, possessed with the thought ofputting a long distance between us and our foes. And in the pleasureof having come together again we walked lightly and easily for longenough, not heeding the way, nor the wind, nor the threat of therainclouds and the dark evening. We rejoiced in the exquisite sense ofour comradeship, and in the thought that every step we took togetherwas a contribution to our freedom. We came out of the park again, andwent on and on, past the houses of Kensington, and then past stragglingand remoter places, the names of which I did not know.
In a surprisingly little while, as it seemed to us, sunk in theobsession of our companionship, we were groping in the unlit darknessof the country lanes, with the lights of the town we had left fadingaway behind us. But we must have been walking considerably more thantwo hours, and at a smart pace, to judge by the distance we had made.It was then that I pressed Cynthia's hand and says:
"Are you not tired, little one?"
"Nay," says she, "my feet are slipping by so light, I do not know thatI am walking. I could journey on all night in this way."
I was vastly gratified by this brave speech. But for myself, althoughI too had no weariness, and to be sure I could not have confessed to itif I had, I was yet being bitten very severely by the pangs of hunger.All day I had taken nothing beyond a glass or two of wine. Therefore Inow felt a pressing need.
"At least," says I, "I hope you are hungry?"
"Well, since you mention it," says she, "I think I am."
"That is well," says I, "for I am most abominably so. I believe Inever was so hungry in my life before; and I am sure I never hadscantier means of appeasing it. Only conceive of twelvepence halfpennyto the two of us for our board and lodging."
It now became our business to find an inn of the meaner sort, in whichwe might invest this munificent sum. But as we had long since left thebricks and mortar of the town behind, a house for our entertainment wasnot so easily come by.
We walked on and on, but still no welcome inn appeared; and presentlythe lamps of the great city itself had vanished, till we were left inthe utter darkness of the country lanes. There was no evidence of ahuman habitation anywhere about, and we knew not where we were.
By this time both of us were tired as well as most bitterly hungry.Poor little Cynthia hung so heavily on my arm, that I knew fatigue hadmastered her. Yet so brave she was, that despite all the pains anddifficulties she endured, she would not admit that she was weary.Indeed, when I asked her to confess it, says she: "Nay, not I," asstoutly as she would have done three hours before. Yet when we came toa bank of earth beside the way, and I bade her rest upon it for alittle while she could raise no very great objection.
I suppose two persons could never have taken their repose with moresingular feelings than did we upon that bank of earth. Whither we weregoing that night, and what was to become of us we did not know. Therewas the sum of twelvepence halfpenny between us and destitution, buteven this could not avail us in such a solitary darkness, in theabsence of a house and human aid. Happily the night was wonderfullymild, and we in our coats and stout boots were warmly clad. Otherwisewe might have perished where we sat. The pains of fatigue, allied tothe pangs of hunger, had bereft us of both the energy and theinclination to proceed. We must have tarried on that bank considerablybeyond an hour, mutually consoling one another. For my part littleCynthia's courage almost reconciled me to these present circumstances,but you may be sure I was bitterly distressed for her. I had admittedher into my care, foolishly no doubt, and because there was scarcely analternative; and this was the sort of provision I had to offer. Comewhat may, something must be done. The child could never be left tosuffer thus. I must find food and a sanctuary of some sort for her.
However, even as I pondered on our case, hunger and weariness did theirworst.
For some time I had known by Cynthia's failing answers and theheaviness with which she leant against me, that she was becoming moreand more completely overborne. And I'll swear so monstrous brave shewas that never a word of complaint passed her lips, nor yet a tearescaped her. And then her little head nestled up to my coat-sleeve,and the next moment she sighed and was dead asleep upon it. In spiteof her resolution, the excitements, the distresses and the pains ofthat long day had overpowered her. Yet I dare not have her pass thenight in this exposure on a moist bank of earth, with the night-windplaying on her face, and the clouds that had banked themselves over themoon for ever increasing and threatening to descend upon us in adrenching rain. Therefore, dire as my own case was, I roused myself toa desperate attempt to discover a meal and a lodging for the night.
I had not the heart to try to arouse the poor child, as you maysuppose; wherefore, disturbing her as little as I could, I gathered herin my arms, for after all her fine spirit she was but a feather of athing, and carried her before me along the lane. It was an effort ofdespair, for the never-ending darkness revealed no glimpse of what Isought. Every now and then the wind brought a spatter of the expectedrain; but this, when it came upon my lips, carried a kind ofrefreshment in it. I doggedly set my teeth and marched along with mywarm burden, and I think the weight of responsibility that was in myarms, added to the one upon my heart, fostered a grim determination inme to succeed in my search at any cost. The lanes seemed interminable,and every one the same. All my limbs were one strange, numb ache; Ihad become so faint with hunger that I moved in a kind of delirium; andin the end every step I took became so mechanical a thing as to be aneffort of the will without the co-operation of the senses.
Heaven knows what the hour was when one of these lanes I had beeneternally taking all night long ended in a partly-unhinged gate. Myfirst instinct was to snatch an instant's rest upon it; but this Idared not do. I could never have set my paralysed limbs in motionagain had I done so. Indeed it was but the presence of poor littleCynthia in my arms that prevented my sinking to the earth as I stood.But looking beyond the gate I could indistinctly define various dullmasses that I believed to be the outline of haystacks or farmbuildings. Brushing through the rickety gate with an accession of newstrength t
There was no door to it, therefore I was able to carry Cynthia straightin. The cows in their various stalls paid us hardly any attention as Igroped my way past them. The place was of a somewhat considerableextent, and coming to the end of it, I discovered a space in the farcorner where the clean straw was stored. Dispersing a bundle of itwith my feet, I deposited my poor little one very gently into the warmbed thereby made. Careful as I had been not to disturb her, the changein her position had its effect. She gave the same sigh with which shehad gone to sleep, and says:
"Jack, Jack, where are you? I do believe I've been to sleep."
"Then go to sleep again, my prettiness," says I.
"But what is this?" says she. "This is surely not the bank of moistearth in the lane I went to sleep on. Where are we then? What placeis this so warm and snug?" A rustle. "Straw!" A sniff. "A cow-shed!Oh dear, I am----! Oh, could we----! and, oh, Jack, dear, how did weget here?"
The sound of Cynthia's voice and the knowledge that there was a rooffor her head and a couch for her body at last, however mean they mightbe, did much to lift me out of my own sorry predicament. Faint andnumb as I still was, my brain seemed to have its capacity restored.And at least I could gauge by my own sufferings those which Cynthiastrove so valiantly to conceal.
"Are you not hungry, little one?" says I.
"Are you?" says she.
"Most damnably so," says I.
"Then I am too."
Now I would have you mark that hunger is a great wit. Cynthia sniffeda second time. "Cows," says she. "Oh, what good fortune!"
"But my dearest prettiness," says I, "hungry as we are I do not exactlysee how these cows can help us. Although to be sure I will undertaketo knock one down and skin it, and make the fire and such like menialoffices, if you will cut it up and cook it."
"Goose that you are," says Cynthia. "You almost deserve to perish ofyour emptiness. What about the milk?"
"Odslife!" cries I, "to think that I should not have thought of that.Ye gods and little fishes, I must go find a pot, or a pail, or a pan tohold it in!"
The happy prospect of such sustenance endowed us both with new vigour.Without more ado I began groping about in this moonlit hovel todiscover these utensils. But it was no such easy matter. Look where Imight, inside the place and outside of it, amongst the straw andfodder, or among the cows themselves, there was devil a pail that Icould see. Yet so insistent was our case that we could not be put offby any small detail of this sort. We were both of us thoroughly awakeby now and fully bent on assuaging our distresses. And Cynthia inparticular showed her good resources.
"Jack," says she, "give me your hat. It is bigger than mine."
"To be sure," says I. "I had not thought of that. But I will go anddo the milking. I do not choose that you undertake these menialoffices, my pretty, like a common dairymaid."
"I am afraid you can have no choice in the matter," says Cynthia, nowthoroughly awakened and full of importance at the prospect. "You speakas though it were indeed the simplest thing in the world to milk a cow.'Pon my word, sir, I would vastly like to see you at that exercise. Itrequires a mighty long apprenticeship, I would have you to know; andluckily I have had it during the time I have lived in Devonshire. Wereit to be left to you, I am thinking we should come by precious littleelse than your good intentions."
I bent my head in silence under this merited reproof. Our resolve wasa brave one, for in the darkness and strangeness of the place it wasnot easy to carry it out. However, Cynthia, armed with my hat, if youplease, was not the person to stick at trifles. She groped her wayamong the cows in a most valiant manner, and presently, having the goodfortune to find one with a calf by its side, her task was made lighterthan it might have been otherwise. I encumbered her with myassistance. The assistance in question consisted in holding the hat,while she performed the more delicate operation. And I could not helpremarking that for a town miss, who in Saint James's Park or Bloomsburyhad quite enough of airs, affectation and incapacity to pass as aperson of the finest _ton_, she showed a degree of aptitude quiteforeign to her quality.
"It is rarely done," says I, as the hat grew weightier and weightier."And I protest that you astonish me. It is as unmodish a performanceas ever I saw. I wish some of your friends could see you now."
"Oh, Lord," says Cynthia, in great terror from beneath the udder, "Iwould not have them see me for the world. I vow if they did I shoulddie of it."
"I believe you would," says I; "and I believe they would also."
Cynthia had the first drink from the hat, which, being of a good, stifffelt quality, and being pretty commodious too, for its business as youknow was to enclose a great brain, it made an admirable receptacle.But to drink from it without spilling the milk was not by any means asimple performance. Great address was required, but the expert Mrs.Cynthia contrived it somehow. And when she fitted her lips to thebrim, there was never a drop that left this quaint vessel but it wentto its right destination.
"How warm and delicious it is!" says she, after bibbing a mostimmoderate quantity. "How refreshed I feel!"
Shaking with laughter, I followed her example. Yet the vigour withwhich I did it, combined with my clumsier masculine methods, hadunfortunate consequences. I choked and sputtered and turned a gooddeal down my coat ere I was able to get any satisfaction out of mylabours. However, when I had learned to control my impatience, and hadfound the true knack of drinking hot milk out of my own hat, it wasalmost worth enduring the pangs of so shrewd a hunger to have such anexquisite recompense. One hatful did not suffice us either. Wereturned to the cow again and again; and with such excellentconsequences, that for the nonce, we were both strongly agreed that nomeal of rare dishes served on silver with powdered servants behind ourchairs had ever given us any pleasure to approach our present one.Indeed, so delicately satisfied did we feel within, and such a sense ofsweet lassitude was stealing over us, as made the thoughts of our couchof straw a thousand times more delectable than any pillows and lavendersheets we had ever slept in--nay, we really marvelled that if this wasa state of mind incident to a vagabond roving life, how any one couldever do aught else but adopt it? Truly it must be the ignorance of theworld. People could not know of these Arcadian delights. Who wouldtrouble else to be a peer, for ever sweating and fuming in the toils ofone's position, spending one's days in contriving fresh devices for thedefeat of weariness and in the excitement of new appetites? Who wouldgame and drink every night in order to forget the _ennui_ of the world,only to find day by day that instead of forgetting it, the intolerableoppression of it did increase?
After shaking down several bundles of sweet-smelling hay and making ofit a rare soft bed, I was about to lie in it, when the propriety of thefeminine character was most excellently manifested. With a good dealof confusion in her voice, and I'll swear in her face too, thoughunhappily the darkness of this far corner was so great I could notobserve it, my companion intimated her modest doubts. It seemed we hadnot yet been through the hands of the clergyman. Be sure that thismarvellously bashful proper miss did not use words of this rudecharacter. In faith, I hardly think that she used words at all; and ifshe did, certainly not more than three at a time, and even they were ofsuch a nature that taken by themselves they could have no meaningw
"So be it, Mrs. Puritan," says I. "But upon my soul more _bourgeois_reasons I never heard. 'Fore Gad, though, a most meritoriousrespectability."
Little Cynthia, however, was not to be smoked out of her demeanour.She persevered in it in the most straight-laced manner, and in the endI was fain to erect a barrier of hay between us, and build up a secondcouch for myself. Thus we might at a pinch be said to occupy separatechambers, though to be sure the partition between us was not stoutenough to prevent us conversing as we lay in our separate beds. But itwas little talk that passed between us. We were so delightfully wearythat it began and ended in "Good-night!" The next minute anunmistakable indication came from Mrs. Cynthia's apartment, and aminute afterwards I was sunk in the honestest and therefore the mostdelicious sleep I had enjoyed for many a year. I neither dreamt norwandered, but just dropt into a profound insensibility which wascontinued well into the daylight of the morning. This rare refreshmentwas destined to end in a somewhat peremptory fashion.
I think it must have been a kick or a blow that waked me. For I cameto my senses with an unnatural suddenness and a curse on my tongue. Itwas broad day, and the misty morning sun was struggling in throughnumerous chinks in the roof and walls of the hovel. A farmer with apitchfork in his hand was standing before me. He was almostinarticulate with rage. As I opened my eyes he burst out into aviolent Doric that I hope these pages are much too chaste to adequatelyreproduce.
"Well I nivver in all my born days," says he, stamping his feet, andthen rounding his period with a most ferocious kick on my shin.
"Get up, ye impident scoundrel, and I'll beat ye to purpose so I will.In my own barn, in broad daylight too. O the impidence, the domnedimpidence of it!"
The kick had greatly helped me to realize the state of the case. Wehad been discovered by the owner of the cow-house, and he, with trueBritish respect for the rights of property, was not unnaturallyincensed that two persons were so calmly infringing them. For by thishe had discovered poor little Cynthia, whom I was able to observethrough the frail portion of hay between us, sitting up in her bed witha very woeful, frightened countenance.
"Whoy theer's a woman too," says the farmer. "Well if this doan't beatall I ivver heard. O you impident hussy."
"My good fellow," says I, fearing lest he should deal Cynthia a kickalso, "I am afraid you are under some misapprehension in this matter.Allow me to explain."
I thought it to be an occasion when the very nicest suavity of tone andmanner was required, for the consequences were like to be uncommonlyruffling else. Therefore I could not have been more careful of mycourtesy had I been addressing my remarks to the King. But all I gotfor my pains was the sight of a great bewilderment that suddenly ran inthe farmer's purple face.
"Whoy, a dom'd foreigner," says he. "That makes it wuss, an hundredtimes wuss, that it do. I'll give you foreigner, I will too. Aforeigner in my plaace, among my cows, lying in my hay. Come out o' itand I'll break your yedd in two plazen; once for yersen, and once fort' little witch with the blue eyes. How d'ye like that, MisterForeigner?"
Crack came the blunt end of the pitchfork at me so smartly, that it wasonly the fact that I was expecting some small manifestation of the kindthat enabled me to get up my arm quick enough to save my head.
As my attempt at a polite argument had had such an unfortunate effectupon him, I judged that I should best serve my skin by advancing a lessformal sort of rejoinder, but one that might more directly appeal tohis rustic character.
"Enough of this, sir," says I, "But just lay down your pitchfork, takeoff your jacket and step outside, and you shall be the judge as towhether I am a foreigner, or as good an Englishman as you are yourself."
The effect upon him was excellent. His anger melted at once at thisproposal, so clearly was it after his own mind.
"'Tis fair speaking anyway," says he. "I could not have spoken itbetter myself. Come on this way, my lad, we'll soon set this matter torights."
Cynthia was terribly frightened. She clung to my arms, and refused tolet me follow the farmer into the yard.
"Much as I admire your solicitude, my prettiness," says I, "it is mosthighly inconvenient. For do you not see that this is as much an affairof honour as an appointment at Lincoln's Inn Fields? Mr. Chawbacon hassuffered an injury at our hands, and you who milked his cow last nightshould be the last to deny it. Wherefore should he not have thesatisfaction that he desires? You would not, I am sure, have me putoff my gentility now that I cease to wear its livery. It is the onlyreparation that I can make to Mr. Chawbacon, and if I denied it to thehonest fellow I should cease to respect myself."
Poor little Cynthia having no substantial argument to advance againstthis--indeed how could she have?--had recourse to a flood of tears, atonce the most natural, formidable and convincing one her sex can setup. But greatly as her behaviour embarrassed me, I was committed withthe farmer, and I have such an instinct in these matters, thatnotwithstanding Cynthia's very real distress, I could not possibly havebacked out of my position with any shred of credit. Therefore takingoff my great-coat I bade the poor frightened child wrap herself in itup to her ears and to stay where she was, that she might neither hearnor observe that which was going forward. She obeyed me in this, andlay sobbing softly to herself while I went forth to do battle with myfriend the farmer.
On stepping out of the hovel into the yard I found my antagonist wassurrounded by three or four of the farm yokels, and moreover wasstripped to the waist. To judge by his expression he was plainlyanimated by the highest intentions towards me, and was prepared to givequite as much or even more than he was likely to receive.
"Now then, my lad," he says briskly, "I'm a-going to do as well by youas Tench did last week by the Fightin' Tinman. Now then, Joe Barker,and you, Bill Blagg, come on with them there pails and moppses."
To my infinite delight I saw that the two children of the soil inquestion were bearing two buckets of water towards us with a spongefloating on the top of each.
"We can't have this done in due and proper form according to thereggerlations," says this sportsman of a farmer in an apologetic voice,"because you see we've got no judge, and none o' these men o' minecould be trusted with the dooties. I wish Squire was here, I do so.We _could_ have it all done proper then accordin' to the reggerlations.Squire was Tench's backer down Putney way last week, and knows all thereggerlations off by heart, does Squire. He only lives just across theroad, and if you'll wait a minute I'll have him fetched."
"No, my good man," says I hastily, "we'll have no squires if youplease. We can trust one another, I suppose. Let me suggest that aknock-down ends the round, and that we set-to again when we feel able."
"That seems fair," says the farmer. "But I should a-liked Squire toha' been here all the same, and I'm thinking he'd a-liked to ha' beenhere too. He's the best sporting man in Surrey, is the Squire, andfair death on the reggerlations."
Having fixed up all the preliminaries of an encounter in thisexpeditious fashion, I proceeded to prepare for the fray. I imitatedthe farmer's excellent example, divested myself of coat, waistcoat andshirt, and bound up my breeches with a leathern belt I was able toborrow from a flattered and delighted yokel. It was in this negligentattire that I regarded my antagonist, and devoutly hoped the while thatmy little Cynthia was still sobbing among the hay in the hovel.