God's Good Man, Marie Corelli [me reader .txt] 📗

no by- your-leaves, and none of us ‘adn’t no right to say a wurrd, he bein’ master-like—but when it comes to the Five Sisters—why then we sez, if the Five Sisters lay low there’s an end of the pride and prosperity of the village, an’ Passon Walden he be main worrited about it, for he do love trees like as they were his own brothers, m’appen more’n brothers, for sometimes there’s no love lost twixt the likes o’ they, and beggin’ your pardon, Miss, he sent me to ye with a message from hisself ‘fore dinner, but you was a-lyin’ down and couldn’t be disturbed nohow, so I goes down to Spruce”—here Bainton indicated the silent Spruce with a jerk of his thumb—“he be the forester ‘ere, under Mr. Leach’s orders, as deaf as a post unless you ‘ollers at him, but a good-meanin’ man for all that—and I sez, ‘Spruce, you and me ‘ull go an’ fetch old Josey Letherbarrow, and see if bein’ the oldest ‘n’abitant, as they sez in books, he can’t get a wurrd with Miss Vancourt, and so ‘ere we be, Miss, for the trees be chalked”—and he turned abruptly to Spruce and bellowed—“Baint the trees chalked for comin’ down to-morrow marnin’? Speak fair!”

Spruce heard, and at once gave a lucid statement.

“By Mr. Leach’s orders, Miss,” he said, addressing Maryllia; “The five old beech-trees on the knoll, which the village folk call the ‘Five Sisters,’ are to be felled to-morrow marnin’. They’ve stood, so I’m told, an’ so I b’lieve, two or three hundred years—”

“And they’re going to be cut down!” exclaimed Maryllia. “I never heard of such wickedness! How disgraceful!”

Spruce saw by the movement of her lips that she was speaking, and therefore at once himself subsided into silence. Bainton again took up the parable.

“He’s nigh stone-deaf, Miss, so you’ll ‘scuse him if he don’t open his mouth no more till we shouts at him—but what he sez is true enough. At six o’clock to-morrow marnin’—”

Here Primmins entered with the port wine.

“Primmins, where does the agent, Leach, live?” enquired Maryllia.

“I really couldn’t say, Miss. I’ll ask—”

“‘Tain’t no use askin’,” said Bainton; “He lives a mile out of the village; but he ain’t at ‘ome nohow this evenin’ bein’ gone to Riversford town for a bit o’ gamblin’ at cards. Lor’, Miss, beggin’ yer pardon, gamblin’ with the cards do get rid o’ timber—it do reely now!”

Maryllia took a glass of port wine from the tray which Primmins handed to her, and gave it herself to old Josey. Her mind had entirely grasped the situation, despite the prolix nature of Bainton’s discourse. A group of historic old trees were to be felled by the agent’s orders at six o’clock the next morning unless she prevented it. That was the sum total of the argument. And here was something for her to do, and she resolved to do it.

“Now, Josey,” she said with a smile, “you must drink a glass of wine to my health. And you also—and you!” and she nodded encouragingly to Spruce and Bainton; “And be quite satisfied about the trees—they shall not be touched.”

“God bless ye!” said Josey, drinking off his wine at a gulp; “And long life t’ye and ‘appiness to enjoy it!”

Bainton, with a connoisseur’s due appreciation of a good old brand, sipped at his glass slowly, while Spruce, hastily swallowing his measure of the cordial, wiped his mouth furtively with the back of his hand, murmuring: “Your good ‘elth, an’ many of ‘em!”

“Wishin’ ye long days o’ peace an’ plenty,” said Bainton, between his appreciative sips; “But as fur as the trees is consarned, you’ll’scuse me, Miss, for sayin’ it, but the time bein’ short, I don’t see ‘ow it’s goin’ to be ‘elped, Oliver Leach bein’ away, and no post delivered at his ‘ouse till eight o’clock—”

“I will settle all that,” said Maryllia—“You must leave everything to me. In the meantime,”—and she glanced at Spruce,—then appealingly turned to Bainton,—“Will you try and make your friend understand an order I want to give him? Or shall I ask Mrs. Spruce to come and speak to him?”

“Lord love ye, he’ll be sharper to hear me than his wife, Miss, beggin’ yer pardon,” said Bainton, with entire frankness. “He’s too accustomed to her jawin’ an’ wouldn’t get a cleat impression like. Spruce!” And he uplifted his voice in a roar that made the old rafters of the hall ring. “Get ready to take Miss Vancourt’s orders, will ye?”

Spruce was instantly on the alert, and put his hand to his ear.

“Tell him, please,” said Maryllia, still addressing Bainton, “that he is to meet the agent as arranged at the appointed place to-morrow morning; but that he is not to take any ropes or axes or any men with him. He is simply to say that by Miss Vancourt’s orders the trees are not to be touched.”

These words Bainton dutifully bellowed into Spruce’s semi-closed organs of hearing. A look first of astonishment and then of fear came over the simple fellow’s face.

“I’m afraid,” he at last faltered, “that the lady does not know what a hard man Mr. Leach is; he’ll as good as kill me if I go there alone to him!”

“Lord love ye, man, you won’t be alone!” roared Bainton,—“There’s plenty in the village ‘ull take care o’ that!”

“Say to him,” continued Maryllia steadily, noting the forester’s troubled countenance, “he must now remember that I am mistress here, and that my orders, even if given at the last moment, are to be obeyed.”

“That’s it!” chuckled Josey Letherbarrow, knocking his stick on the ground in a kind of ecstasy,—“That’s it! Things ain’t goin’ to be as they ‘as been now the Squire’s little gel is ‘ome! That’s it!” And he nodded emphatically. “Give a reskil rope enough an’ he’ll ‘ang hisself by the neck till he be dead, and the Lord ha’ mercy on his soul!”

Maryllia smiled, watching all her three quaint visitors with a sensation of mingled interest and whimsical amusement.

“D’ye hear? You’re to tell Leach,” shouted Bainton, “that Miss Vancourt is mistress ‘ere, and her orders is to be obeyed at the last moment! Which you might ha’ understood without splittin’ my throat to tell ye, if ye had a little more sense, which, lackin’, ‘owever, can’t be ‘elped. What are ye afeard of, eh?”

“Mr. Leach is a hard man,” continued Spruce, anxiously glancing at Maryllia; “He would lose me my place if he could—:”

Maryllia heard, and privately decided that the person to lose his place would be Leach himself. “It is quite exciting!” she thought; “I was wondering a while ago what I should do to amuse myself in the country, and here I am called upon at once to remedy wrongs and settle village feuds! Nothing could be more novel and delightful!” Aloud, she said,—

“None of the people who were in my father’s service will lose their places with me, unless for some very serious fault. Please”—and she raised her eyes in pretty appeal to Bainton, “Please make everybody understand that! Are you one of the foresters here?”

Bainton shook his head.

“No, Miss,—I’m the Passon’s head man. I does all his gardening and keeps a few flowers growin’ in the churchyard. There’s a rose climbin’ over the cross on the old Squire’s grave what will do ye good to see, come another fortnight of this warm weather. But Passon, he be main worrited about the Five Sisters, and knowin’ as ‘ow I’d worked for the old Squire at ‘arvest an,’ sich-like, he thought I might be able to ‘splain to ye—”

“I see!” said Maryllia, thoughtfully, surveying with renewed interest the old-world figure of Josey Letherbarrow in his clean smock-frock. “Now, how are you going to get Josey home again?” And a smile irradiated her face. “Will you carry him along just as you brought him?”

“Why, yes, Miss—it’ll be all goin’ downhill now, and there’s a moon, and it’ll be easy work. And if so be we’re sure the Five Sisters ‘ull be saved—”

“You may be perfectly certain of it,” said Maryllia interrupting him with a little gesture of decision—“Only you must impress well on Mr. Spruce here, that my orders are to be obeyed.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss—what Spruce is afeard of is that Leach may tell him he’s a liar, and may jest refuse to obey. That’s quite on the cards, Miss—it is reely now!”

“Oh, is it, indeed!” and Maryllia’s eyes flashed with a sudden fire that made them look brighter and deeper than ever and revealed a depth of hidden character not lacking in self-will,—“Well, we shall see! At any rate, I have given my orders, and I expect them to be carried out! You understand!”

“I do, Miss;” and Bainton touched his forelock respectfully; “An’ while we’re joggin’ easy downhill with Josey, I’ll get it well rubbed into Spruce. And, by yer leave, if you hain’t no objection, I’ll tell Passon Walden that sich is your orders, and m’appen he’ll find a way of impressin’ Leach straighter than we can.” Maryllia was not particularly disposed to have the parson brought into her affairs, but she waived the query lightly aside.

“You can do as you like about that,” she said carelessly; “As the parson is your master, you can of course tell him if you think he will be interested. But I really don’t see why he should be asked to interfere. My orders are sufficient.”

A very decided ring of authority in the clear voice warned Bainton that here was a lady who was not to be trifled with, or to be told this or that, or to be put off from her intentions by any influence whatsoever. He could not very well offer a reply, so he merely touched his forelock again and was discreetly silent. Maryllia then turned playfully to Josey Letherbarrow.

“Now are you quite happy?” she asked. “Quite easy in your mind about the trees?”

“Thanks be to the Lord and you, God bless ye!” said Josey, piously; “I’m sartin sure the Five Sisters ‘ull wave their leaves in the blessed wind long arter I’m laid under the turf and the daisies! I’ll sleep easy this night for knowin’ it, and thank ye kindly and all blessin’ be with ye! And if I never sees ye no more—”

“Now, Josey, don’t talk nonsense!” said Maryllia, with a pretty little air of protective remonstrance; “Such a clever old person as you are ought to know better than to be morbid! ‘Never see me no more’ indeed! Why I’m coming to see you soon,—very soon! I shall find out where you live, and I shall pay you a visit! I’m a dreadful talker! You shall tell me all about the village and the people in it, and I’m sure I shall learn more from you in an hour than if I studied the place by myself for a week! Shan’t I?”

Josey was decidedly flattered. The port wine had reddened his nose and had given an extra twinkle to his eyes.

“Well, I ain’t goin’ to deny but what I knows a thing or two—” he began, with a sly glance at her.

“Of course you do! Heaps of things! I shall coax them all out of you! And now, good-night!—No!—don’t get up!” for Josey was making herculean efforts to rise from his chair again. “Just stay where you are, and let them carry you carefully home. Good-night!”

She gave a little salute which included all three of her rustic visitors, and moved away. Passing under the heavily-carved arched beams of oak which divided the hall from