Bladys of the Stewponey, Sabine Baring-Gould [good books for 8th graders TXT] 📗

and bacon boiling for supper, and don’t speak another word.”

“I don’t want to have nothing to say to Onion,” persisted the old woman.

“Nor will you, mother. Hold your tongue. We must attend to the guests.”

“I won’t have no corpses brought here. I hate ‘em,” said the hag, stamping her foot on the hearth, and then beating with her clenched fist on her knee. “There’s the getting rid of them—that’s the difficulty. I always said, ‘Keep off—’”

“Mother, mind the pot; it’s boiling over.”

At that moment the doorway was entered by the Savoyard, who pulled off his hat, and, bowing, asked:

“Me here sleep? Take leetle place.”

“Do you not see,” said Nan Norris, irritably, “that we have the sick woman to attend upon? We cannot receive you. Go your ways farther.”

But the monkey had seen the fire. With a leap it reached the floor, ran to the hearth, and jumped upon a stool opposite the old hostess, seated itself and stretched out hands and feet, much as did she, blinking and grinning with pleasure as it enjoyed the heat.

Mistress Norris saw the creature, and fell into an ecstasy of laughter. Her thoughts were diverted from Bladys and riveted on the monkey.

Nan immediately saw the advantage, and signed to the Italian to take a seat by the door.

“Ho, ho! my little Beelzebub!” croaked the hag, “not come for me yet, have you? Rubbing your hands? Have you the soul of that pretty lady in your pouch? Done your job to-day, Beelzebub? Well, well, well, we’re all friends together here.”

Nan, kneeling beside Bladys, unlaced her stays, applied vinegar to her temples, poured it over her throat. She endeavoured ineffectually to force some drops of brandy into her mouth.

The Savoyard shut the door.

“Leave it open,” ordered Nan sharply. “We require the fresh air.”

Francis stood by in great unrest and impatience, looking into the face of his inanimate wife. Suddenly Bladys drew a long inspiration, and opened her eyes.

“There!” exclaimed Nan triumphantly, “I knew that she was not gone. She will return to herself shortly. Sit up, my love! Sit up and let me stay thee.” Nan put her arms about the hardly conscious girl, and lifted her to a sitting posture.

“Now,” said she coaxingly, “take a drop of cordial. It will bring the colour back into your dead lips.”

Bladys looked around her with a puzzled expression. Now she fixed her eyes on the young woman who was supporting her, then turned them searchingly on Francis, but instantly averted them, caught sight of the ape in so doing, as it made passes over the fire and grinned and nodded its head at the old mother, who bobbed and laughed in response from the farther side of the fire.

Bladys shivered, turned her head sharply away, and hid her face in Nan’s bosom. She trembled in every limb.

“Ho, ho! Beelzebub!” jested the old hostess, who had eyes, thoughts, for nothing save the monkey; “we have always been prime friends, always, and ever shall be, eh?” and she broke into a harsh cackle.

“Can you stand?” asked Nan of Bladys. “Don’t mind that creature. It is but a monkey in a red coat. I’ll drive it forth out of the house if it affright thee.”

“Beelzebub!” laughed the old woman, thrusting a long brown arm through the smoke, signing to the ape with one finger to demand attention.

“We may be returning the civility of this call shortly. There is no telling. They have brought a corpse into the house—a corpse of a young wench—and that may bring us everyone into the hands of Onion. Onion! Whew!” She screamed with laughter. “That ‘s your master waggoner as brings you consignments of souls, all bound with a hempen halter. Eh, eh?”

Nan, with her arms about the waist of Bladys, had been endeavouring to raise her, assisted by Francis; but something said or done disturbed him to such an extent that his attention was drawn away from his wife, and he allowed the entire burden to fall on the girl. She was strong armed and lusty, and did not let go her hold. Nan now pressed more brandy on Bladys, and persuaded her to swallow a few drops. A point of crimson, like the bursting out of a sudden flame, came in her cheek, but died again as quickly.

“Come now,” urged Francis, “time presses. I shall not reach Bridgenorth afore midnight, and there I must sleep, that I may be in Shrewsbury tomorrow, and tomorrow in Shrewsbury I must be.”

“The judges are going to Shrewsbury,” said the old woman. “Beelzebub, wilt accompany the gentleman? There’ll be rare doings at Shrewsbury. Tom Matthews—he is certain sure to be convicted; a good lad, but ‘tis a pity. It’s a poor trade stealing sheep. Better be hung for cutting a purse than taking a pelt. Ding dong bell! Ring the gallows-bell, and Tom Matthews be the clapper! Eh, Beelzebub?”

Then the aged woman burst again into a hideous cackle, and laid her shrivelled finger on the arm of the monkey.

Bladys shuddered, without understanding what was said, or to what the allusion pointed.

“And further, Beelzebub. There is, they inform me, a sweet creature to be tried for not loving her husband, and for setting her fancy upon another; and she gave her husband a drop of nightshade that sent him below. Ho, ho; if she had but consulted me, I could have better advised her. They assure me that for this they will burn her.”

The old woman rubbed her palms over the fire.

“I have never seen a woman at the stake. Ecod, I should prodigiously like to see that. But this kind gentleman will not deny me such a trifle if I ask him to take me with him. And she to be burnt alive! That’s pure. I should enjoy myself extravagantly.”

“Stand up now,” said Francis to his bride. “Try if you can walk to the chaise. Positively we must press on. I have been delayed too considerably.”

Entreaty, command, availed nothing. The limbs of the hardly conscious and enfeebled girl would not support her. She dragged in his arms and those of Nan, and would have sunk in a heap on the floor had they not sustained her entire weight.

“Curses fall on it,” swore Luke. “What the foul fiend is to be done? I must go on my way. I cannot, I dare not, tarry. Most important matters call me. She must and she shall come.”

“She can not,” said Nan firmly, “and I swear to your face she shall not. If you attempt to take her along with you she will die in the chaise, and when you reach Bridgenorth it will be along with a corpse.”

“I’ll have no corpses here,” yelled the hag.

“Carry her to the carriage. Then they’ll inquitch her in that, and welcome; but not here. I won’t have no crowning in my house; it goes against my stomick!”

“I cannot leave her here,” said Luke, stamping and taking a turn round the room with his hand to his head. “Was there ever so fatal a situation? Here am I robbed and my wife half dead, and I summoned away. I must go. It is as much as my place is worth to be absent. I have delayed over-long.”

He came again before Bladys. “Make an effort to reach the carriage,” he said.

She tried to speak, could not, and seemed rapidly relapsing into insensibility.

“Zounds!” said Luke, “what is to be done? I cannot leave her here.”

“Why not?” asked Nan, looking him level in the eyes. “Dost think we’re not honest folk? I trow we’re every whit as honest as you. Go your way; you’ve nought to fear. You’ve been robbed, and have nothing further to lose on the main toby (highway). Trust her to me. I will take care of her. You can come when you list, and fetch her away. But if you try to remove her, by Goles! You’ll have to use force, and I’ll try my nails on your face. I have heard of Bla of the Stewponey, though I never knew her. The Stewponey is a great house, and ours is a main little one. We have not lived vastly far apart. I have never heard aught but good spoken of her. Go on your ways—to Shrewsbury if you must. She shall be cared for, never mistrust it.”

“If this must necessarily be so,” said Luke; and still he was unable to reconcile his mind to this alternative. “But—” he did not finish the sentence.

“If this must necessarily be so—” said Nan; and gently laid Bladys again on the floor, then went through the doorway, deliberately removed the wooden shutter that closed the window, and let the light from the room flow through it.

“Now,” said she, “Tom and the horses are becoming impatient, and I desire to shut the door.”

“Beelzebub!” screamed the old woman. “The gentleman is going, and he has not the civility to take me with him. But I’ll go, nevertheless, and thou also, little devil! Ay, sly fox, waiting for me?”

Chapter 9.

NAN

Luke Francis had departed; and Nan Norris carried Bladys to bed, and did all that lay in her power to soothe her overwrought nerves, rightly judging that what she needed was not rousing, but the opposite treatment.

She sat by the bed till she saw that Bladys was asleep. Then she descended the stairs, went outside the house, and put up the shutter.

The Savoyard lay by the expiring fire, and was snoring; the monkey, coiled up in a ball in his bosom, was also asleep.

Satisfied with what she had done, Nan now opened the door to an adjoining apartment in the length of the house, and shut that after her. Next she unbolted an outer door, and in another minute the sound was heard of the clatter of horse hoofs up the steps to the garden from the road. Immediately following the sound came the horses that had produced it. They passed in at the door, through the room, and disappeared into a cellar behind, excavated out of the rock.

Five entered, and were followed by as many men wearing masks. The leader threw off his and disclosed the face of George Stracey—the man who had entered for the game of bowls that was to be played for Bladys, but who had withdrawn.

“Give us a buss, wench!” said Stracey; “we’ve not done badly tonight, but there was no occasion for our horses, as it happened.”

“Hush!” said she; “make no noise. We have guests. Did you not mark that the shutter was down?”

“Ay, or we should have stabled our beasts earlier. But you have closed now, and that is the signal that our quarters are safe.”

“Jacomo is here.”

“There is nothing to be apprehended from him. He is our very good servant, and anon does us an excellent turn.”

“And Stewponey Bladys is above.”

“Alive or dead?”

“Alive and asleep.”

“Od’s life! she looked like one dying. You baggage, you were jealous, and would not let me contest for such a prize, or I might have won.”

“No, George, I would not permit it.”

“You jade! Come now, give us a wet of gin; we’re cold with tarrying so long in the falling dew, waiting for notice that all was safe.”

“Step into the cellar. Nothing can be heard that is said there.”

When morning broke, Stewponey Bla opened her eyes. Nan perceived with delight that she was recovering; there was no longer a dazed look in her eyes, a stony indifference in her face; some colour now flushed her cheeks. Nan had shared her bed with Bladys, and when she rose she addressed her companion in cheery fashion, and was answered rationally and readily. Not only