PAUL GUSHING,
 
 THE BULL I' TH' THORN
 
 THE BULL I' TH' THOEN 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 PAUL GUSHING 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'THE BLACKSMITH OF VOE,' ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKVVOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBUKGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCXC 
 
 ,1/7. Right* ratrmd
 
 BEING SUEE OF ONE "DEAR READER 
 AND DELIGHTFULLY FRANK CRITIC, 
 
 I t 
 
 THE BULL I' TH' THORN, 
 TO HIM MY SON. 
 
 2030025
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. THE BULL l' TH' THORN, . . 3 
 
 II. MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! . . . j$ 
 
 III. LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER, . 65 
 
 IV. THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK, . . . 8fc 
 V. THE COMING OP THE REEVERS, . . . 108 
 
 VI. DICK O' TH* BORDER, . . . .127 
 
 VII. IN THE KING'S NAME ! . . 141 
 
 viii. THE "LEATHER BOTTLE,". . . . 169 
 
 IX. A QUESTION OF COLOURS, ... 191 
 
 X. DRAWING DRY FOOT, . . . . 215 
 
 XI. A MAD WAGER, . ' . . . 243 
 
 XII. HOW THE WAGER WAS WON, . '. ' 259 
 
 XIII. BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP, . . 270
 
 PART I.
 
 THE BULL I' Tff THOEN, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 IN the year 1810, when George III. was 
 king, though the Regency was looming big, 
 and the English were slowly but surely 
 teaching the rest of Europe that they were 
 something more than une nation boutiquiere, 
 on the edge of Redstag moor there stood 
 a rambling old house, black and green in 
 colour, and of aspect gaunt and gloomy. It 
 had a great many chimneys, a very few 
 windows, and a good thick roof of thatch.
 
 4 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 Of the chimneys, however, only one had 
 been known for many years to emit smoke ; 
 the others had long ceased to remember 
 that they were not originally built for birds 
 to nest in. One -half the windows were 
 boarded up, and others held nothing but 
 an empty iron frame. The thatch was 
 black with age, and its top was shaggy 
 with patches of long grass ; there were 
 clumps of moss there, or something that 
 looked like moss, and under one of the 
 chimneys grew a wild rose-bush. 
 
 In front of the house, which looked down 
 the road and across the moor, was a large 
 courtyard paved with cobble-stones, which 
 had taken to growing grass and had come to 
 look curiously like a bit of stony pasture. 
 About the courtyard were huge piles of 
 buildings which had once been stables, cow- 
 sheds, barns, coach-houses, and wain-sheds ; 
 now, all was ruin and desolation. There
 
 THE BULL I TH THORN. 5 
 
 were ugly gaps in the roofs, and some of the 
 walls had crumbled, while many of the doors 
 had vanished, and of those that remained, 
 the greater part hung helpless on one hinge, 
 or banged to and fro on a gusty night for 
 want of a fastener. 
 
 The former character of the house was 
 briefly and significantly indicated by a couple 
 of odd relics that met the glance of every 
 passer-by. One of these was a mouldy 
 wooden jib with two iron hooks in it, which 
 was fastened to the side of the house over- 
 looking the road ; the other was a long low 
 drinking-trough that stood nearer the road. 
 The marks of horses' teeth were still visible 
 on the roadward side, but the trough itself 
 was now dry, and half full of soil and weeds, 
 and the sides had covered themselves with 
 minute parasitic growths full of destructive- 
 ness and of beauty. Jib and trough were 
 unmistakeable tokens of the decayed inn
 
 6 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 which, to judge from the range of dilapi- 
 dated out-buildings, had once upon a time 
 aspired to the dignity of a coaching-house. 
 
 It is well known that all properly con- 
 stituted persons find something pleasant in 
 the misfortunes of their friends, and upon 
 the same rich side of our nature we dis- 
 cover a soft melancholy pleasure in tracing 
 the causes of decay of fortune in persons 
 and in things. How the " Bull i' th' 
 Thorn," as the house was called, came to 
 decay, was not far to seek ; one had only to 
 open his eyes and look at the road to see so 
 much. In a word, it was want of traffic. 
 The broad level road, over which had trav- 
 elled coaches, and chaises, and buggies, and 
 huge tented caravans drawn by eight horses, 
 and ponderous farm-waggons, and rumbling 
 yellow-bodied carriages hung low on leather 
 straps, was now little else than a wide strip 
 of grass between the heather and the furze.
 
 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 7 
 
 Two miles farther on along the moor, the 
 question, What had become of the traffic ? 
 was satisfactorily answered ; there the road 
 had taken a new curve, which avoided the 
 precipitous descent just below the " Bull 
 i' th' Thorn," which led into the rock- 
 shadowed village of Poloc. With the new 
 road, which left the moor and came along 
 the valley at an easy gradient into Poloc, 
 went the traffic, all in a flash, and left the 
 old posting-house desolate and stranded. 
 
 Its decay had been slow and gradual, up to 
 a certain point ; thenceforward, it had seemed 
 to suddenly make up its mind that the tide 
 was gone for good, and would never come 
 back in any shape or form, and it was useless 
 to battle any longer with adversity. A sign 
 was this sad conclusion that the originally 
 fine constitution of the " Bull i' th' Thorn " 
 was broken down, and its health fatally 
 impaired. Had it laid violent hands upon
 
 8 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 itself and gone down in a great sheet of 
 flame, no one would have been surprised, 
 and some sentimentalists would have been 
 glad. But instead of that, it became simply 
 demoralised, lost all sense of self-respect and 
 even of personal decency, until its windows 
 became eyesores, and for want of paint and 
 doors and bolts, with its rents and tears and 
 rusty doorless hinges pointing impudently 
 in one's face, it became nothing better than 
 a common footpad, all rags and tatters, dirt 
 and villany. Many a long year had it 
 looked out over the dark far-reaching moor 
 for the return of the golden thread of traffic, 
 until at last the wild dark savagery of the 
 moor, without any of its beauty, had crept 
 into the heart and face of the gaunt and 
 lonely house, and given to it an expression 
 bordering upon wickedness. 
 
 It was early in November, and the day 
 was dull and cold, for the sky was covered
 
 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 9 
 
 with heavy grey cloud spotted here and 
 there with blackness, and a keen raw wind 
 came moaning and howling across the moor, 
 as if it meant to make the "Bull i' th' 
 Thorn" its lair for the night. Down in 
 Poloc, walled with rocks and roofed with 
 trees, the wind on the moorland above 
 sounded now like the beating surf on a lee- 
 shore, and then like a human cry of rage 
 and anguish ; but it was felt only among the 
 tops of the tallest trees ; for so sheer was 
 the descent from the moor to the village, 
 that, within a few hundred yards of the 
 decayed inn, the ravening blast suddenly 
 found itself careering no longer across the 
 quivering face of earth, but launched full-tilt 
 against the open sky. In this predicament, 
 it usually lost no time either in harking back 
 to the moor, or in making for the uplands 
 across the valley, whose bleak sides it tried 
 in vain to torture.
 
 10 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 Mounted on a stout white cob, and envel- 
 oped in a great drab overcoat that reached 
 within a couple of inches of his spurs, with 
 collar turned up about his ears, and his hat 
 pulled down on to his nose, was Squire 
 Crump of Poloc Hall. He was a heavy man 
 physically and mentally; and so when the 
 cob saw that his own business and his 
 master's pleasure were about to take them 
 on to the moor, he gave one glance at the 
 steep road between the rocks, snorted defi- 
 ance, and went at it with a jumping gallop. 
 Near the top, the flanking rocks ended, and 
 with a curve the road debouched on the 
 moor. 
 
 No sooner was the Squire's head on a line 
 with the moor, than the playful wind, which 
 had been lurking round this favourite spot 
 with an eye to humour, sprang right at 
 him with the cheerful cry of a wolf, smote 
 him hard in the face and bore him back-
 
 THE BULL 1 TH THORN. 11 
 
 wards, so that he had to seize the cob's mane 
 to save himself from falling. Meanwhile, 
 his hat went spinning down the hill, until 
 it found a resting-place between two stones. 
 
 "The devil take the thing ! I never come 
 nigh the place but what I have some ill- 
 luck. I'll go back," muttered the Squire, 
 in the teeth of the wind. 
 
 He turned his animal's head and went 
 back. Now that his hat was gone, one 
 could get a fair view of his face. It was 
 fat and red and sleek and hairless. His 
 eyes looked small and sharp, and his mouth 
 large and firm, so firm that an enemy would 
 have called it cruel. The general expression 
 of his countenance was a subtile blending of 
 self-complacency, audacity, and pride ; pride 
 of the baser sort, which ran to scornfulness 
 and contempt. On the whole and so far 
 as his face went, he was a man who looked 
 his best when his eyes were hidden under
 
 12 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 his hat, and his mouth and chin were buried 
 in his coat-collar; for he had unquestion- 
 ably a good nose. 
 
 When he reached the place where his hat 
 lay, said the Squire to his animal, " Come, 
 Noddy, you don't expect me to get down 
 for that, I hope ? Pick it up, you scamp." 
 
 Whereupon the cob did as he was bidden, 
 and the Squire reached over and took it out 
 of his mouth, and put it on his head. The 
 cob, a sagacious animal who would do almost 
 anything that his master told him, except 
 sing, and in return expected to be always 
 told what he had to do, now stood stock- 
 still; for his head being turned towards a 
 solid wall of rock, which was too strong 
 for him to push down and too high for him 
 to leap, he must needs consider this a kind 
 of order not to advance. For a full minute 
 the Squire sat tapping his boot with his 
 riding-whip, evidently in a brown-study.
 
 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 13 
 
 "Nay, I'll go on with it. Perhaps they 
 will come to terms now. Blue blood, I 
 think ! Much it's worth with a dirty skin, 
 an empty belly, and a bare back ! " 
 
 He spoke out, for there was none to hear 
 him that he knew of, except Noddy, and 
 Noddy was in his confidence. Then he 
 touched the bridle, and in next to no time 
 Noddy carried him into the courtyard of the 
 "Bull i' th' Thorn." The Squire knocked 
 loudly upon one of the stone pillars of the 
 portico, but no one answered. So he rode 
 Noddy up the short flight of low broad 
 steps that gave on to the portico, and along 
 the great flat stones, too well laid for the 
 tiniest seedling to find a bed between the 
 crevices, as far as the ponderous oaken door. 
 Then he seized the knocker, and sent Echo 
 scuttering through the empty rooms and 
 along the dim passages. A movement was 
 audible within, and soon a heavy step was
 
 14 THE BULL l' TH' THOKN. 
 
 heard at what seemed a great distance, 
 traversing a long passage - way ; it drew 
 nearer and nearer to the door, and then a 
 woman's strident voice called out 
 
 "Confound you, for a piece of impudent 
 baggage, whoever ye be ! Couldn't ye make 
 your way to the other door ? Are ye a 
 lord, that I must unbar and unbolt the great 
 door to admit your Highness ? Who be ye, 
 and what d'ye want here ? " 
 
 A smile of contemptuous amusement 
 crossed the face of the Squire, but his tones 
 were exceedingly polite as he answered 
 back 
 
 " Oh, Lady Poloc, is that you ? I beg 
 your forgiveness ; I did not know you kept 
 the front door barricaded. Don't trouble 
 to open it ; I will go to the lower door. 
 It is only Jonathan Crump of Poloc Hall, 
 your humble servant." 
 
 There was open mockery, not in the voice,
 
 THE BULL 1 TH' THORN. 15 
 
 but in the smile and bow with which the 
 Squire accompanied his last remark. 
 
 " Save the mark ! but I thought it was 
 one of those gipsy rogues, Squire. Wait 
 a moment, sir, and there, it's soon open." 
 
 It was the same voice, strident ; but, 
 being the organ of a different sentiment, 
 the change was almost startling. As she 
 spoke, the door flew back with a creak. 
 And the woman, suddenly finding herself 
 face to face with a white horse, like the 
 door, fell back with a creak. 
 
 " Oh, oh, Lord a' mercy ! " she cried, re- 
 treating with upraised hands, as Noddy, ever 
 obedient to lightest touch, advanced a couple 
 of steps and thrust his head and neck in 
 at the door. 
 
 With a laugh, the Squire called out, 
 " Don't be frightened ; we are not coming 
 in. Is Sir Ralph at home ? " 
 
 "He's at home, be sure, Squire; he is
 
 16 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 never anywhere else. He's not been out 
 of sight of the house for over a year, as 
 I know of," answered the woman, coming 
 forward and stroking Noddy's nose. 
 
 " Will you tell him, please, that I, Squire 
 Crump of Poloc Hall, wish to see him for 
 a few minutes on a matter that concerns 
 him ? " 
 
 "Oh yes, I'll tell him I'll tell him just 
 that," replied the woman, with a peculiar 
 smile upon her face as she turned away 
 and clattered down the long empty corridor, 
 whose walls were green and grey with 
 mildew. 
 
 "Noddy," said the Squire, patting the 
 animal's neck, as the woman's footsteps died 
 away in the distance, " you managed to 
 frighten her ladyship a bit, though she 
 doesn't look like one who would be easily 
 put out. A regular virago to look at, with 
 her bare arms, and turned-up frock, and
 
 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 17 
 
 big black eyes, and a face like She 
 
 has been a handsome woman in her time, 
 though. And don't you forget, Noddy, that 
 she is still My Lady Poloc, and no doubt 
 thinks very small-beer of your poor master 
 and mistress. Never mind, Noddy. We've 
 
 got the money and the land and Ah, 
 
 I hear her dainty footfall. No wonder the 
 place is tumble - down. She shakes the 
 ground she treads on." 
 
 Soon the woman stood in front of horse 
 and rider and said, with folded arms, " I 
 gave him your words, Squire, your very 
 words." 
 
 "Well, what did he say?" 
 
 " Nay, it's not for me to give you his 
 answer. You wouldn't wish it, Squire ? " 
 said the woman in a deprecatory tone, drop- 
 ping her hands to her petticoat and making 
 a humble curtsy. 
 
 " And why not ? My good worn lady, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 don't be absurd ! Let me have his answer, 
 please," cried the Squire, a little lofty in 
 tone ; for though the curtsy the first he 
 had ever received from the same quarter 
 was exceedingly gratifying, and seemed to 
 set the seal to his authority and master- 
 ship, he was nevertheless a bit nettled at 
 the woman's manner. 
 
 She still hesitated, and the Squire, tap- 
 ping his boot impatiently with his whip, 
 sang out, " If you are afraid to speak, 
 I " 
 
 " It's not me that's afraid to speak. I 
 gave my man your words ; and when he 
 had stroked his white beard half a minute 
 or so, he looked up and said, 'My compli- 
 ments, and tell Squire Crump of Poloc 
 Hall that I desire him to continue, only 
 at a quicker rate, his journey to the devil, 
 and not ever again to halt on his way at 
 the "Bull i' th' Thorn"!'"
 
 THE BULL I TH' THORN. 19 
 
 Up went the woman's head, snap went 
 her jaws, and her black eyes flashed a 
 wicked defiance ; firm on her feet, and with 
 folded arms, she stood, and her face seemed 
 transfigured, beautified, and even ennobled 
 with the strength of her full dark passion. 
 
 For some moments, the Squire stared at 
 the woman in utter amazement, with open 
 eyes and parted lips. Then his red face 
 waxed brilliant with anger; twice he seemed 
 on the point of exploding in speech, but he 
 set his jaws firmly together, and held in his 
 wrath by force of will. Slowly the fiery 
 splendour of his moon face died away, his 
 natural ruddiness returned, and with it came 
 a bitter mocking smile. 
 
 " Sir Ralph hath a merry wit, my lady, 
 and it brightens with adversity. Were he 
 here, I would remind him that it is churl- 
 ish if travellers along the same road will 
 not jog on in company ; the more so, when
 
 20 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 the one is familiar with the road, and the 
 other is not. Still, if Sir Kalph desires not 
 my company homewards, I must even jog 
 on in his wake alone. I doubt not, my 
 lady, this merry wit has been a mark of 
 the Polocs time out of mind?" 
 
 " I never heard that they lacked wit to 
 know a rogue when they saw him," retorted 
 her ladyship, still trim for action. 
 
 " Yet of all their brilliant possessions 
 this alone abideth with them, unless we 
 count in the 'Bull i' th' Thorn.' Sad, 
 very sad ! Still, as I often say, my lady, 
 what matters it if the pocket is empty, 
 so long as the blood is blue? Talking 
 about the ' Bull i' th' Thorn ' reminds 
 me. I have got a nice little cottage, snug 
 and pretty and clean, that would just suit 
 you. It isn't in Poloc parish, to be sure, 
 being a couple of hundred yards beyond the 
 boundary ; but, heaven bless me ! what is
 
 THE BULL I* TH* THOKN. 21 
 
 there so sacred in Poloc soil, that you cling 
 to it after it has ceased to cling to you ? " 
 exclaimed the Squire, who had laid the 
 foundations of his fortune along the lines 
 of stearin, palmitin, and olein, and was 
 innocent of any sentimental attachment to 
 any less greasy substance. 
 
 The woman gave a knowing laugh, and 
 answered, " By the same token, what is 
 there about the ' Bull i' th' Thorn ' and 
 its poor five acres of wretched moorland 
 that barely pays for working, that Squire 
 Crump of Poloc Hall should be so eager 
 to buy it ? " 
 
 " My good woman, what " 
 
 " My good woman, eh ? Don't you ' good 
 woman ' me, my good man ! To the likes 
 of you, I'm Lady Poloc, wife to Sir Ralph 
 Poloc, Baronet, sixth in succession, please 
 your worship ! " cried her ladyship, with a 
 voice of brass.
 
 22 THE BULL l' Tfl' THORN. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons," said the 
 Squire, lifting his hat, with an awkward 
 attempt at ironical gallantry. " It was a 
 mere slip of the tongue. In my most pri- 
 vate thoughts yea, even in my dreams I 
 think of you as Lady Poloc. You ask me 
 why I desire to get you out of this old, 
 gloomy, wind-swept, ghost-haunted, tum- 
 ble - down, ramshackle cavern of a house ? 
 Need you ask, Lady Poloc ? " 
 
 " 'Tis a needless question, in sooth, when 
 I know there's small chance of getting the 
 true answer from you, Squire." 
 
 " Eeally, if I were not an amiable man, 
 you would make me cross, Lady Poloc. 
 Doesn't it stand to reason that I should 
 have an interest in your welfare and com- 
 fort ? " 
 
 "Happen it stands to reason, like many 
 another thing that doesn't come to pass. 
 Be that as it may, my name isn't Selina 
 Poloc if it stands to your nature, Squire.
 
 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 23 
 
 Welfare and comfort fiddlesticks ! Eafe 
 might believe it, because he's gone soft, but 
 not me. What you can't abide is, that 
 there should be a house or a foot of land 
 in the parish that doesn't belong to you, 
 and does belong to them as owned, for 
 many a long year, all that you own, and 
 a precious sight more. You want to grab 
 the last stick and stone of the Polocs', and 
 drive the last of them out of the place. 
 Well, you won't do it, not while the breath 
 is in my body ; and that's plain English 
 for you, I hope." 
 
 " Quite so. What you call your plain 
 English is, I suppose, a mark of your an- 
 cient descent, your pure breed, if not your 
 good-breeding. Plain English, pure blood, 
 and and the 'Bull i' th' Thorn,' how 
 things do hang together in this world ! 
 An obscure origin, tallow - dips for a 
 crest, and Poloc Hall for a home how 
 things do hang together in this world !
 
 24 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 I am sorry you won't listen to reason, 
 but I can wait. How is young Mr Ralph 
 getting along ? " 
 
 " Neither better nor worse than usual, 
 that I know of," answered the woman, 
 brusquely enough, though with a percep- 
 tible softening of her aggressive manner. 
 
 The sharp grey eyes of the Squire 
 seemed to retreat into their sockets, whence 
 they peered out through a circle of rosy fat, 
 as he said 
 
 " I am told that he is pretty handy 
 with horses. My groom is leaving me in 
 a week or two ; and if Mr Ralph would 
 like the job, I'm willing to take him on. 
 What do you think about it ? " His tone was 
 very mild, but his eyes twinkled curiously. 
 
 " I doubt if he would look at it. He's 
 so proud and stubborn like, more's the 
 pity. But I'll tell him of it, and he can 
 please himself."
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 
 
 THE Polocs had a standing quarrel with 
 History. They charged that high and 
 mighty dame with defrauding them of a 
 certain modicum of honour, by neglecting 
 to record their name in the roll of Battle 
 Abbey. Never would they lower their high 
 contention that Ralph de Poloc was one 
 of the companions of the Conqueror; and 
 though it recks them little at this time o' 
 day, it is interesting to observe that at 
 the foot of the roll that has been placed 
 in the church of Dives in Normandy, in a 
 kind of supplement to it, there occurs the
 
 26 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 name of Kalph de Poloc. Which would 
 seem to indicate that, though he was not 
 of those who fought at Hastings, the said 
 Ralph was originally cast for the expedition 
 of the Bastard, but failed to turn up at the 
 right time and so got left. Possibly his 
 stem -winder was a little late, or he had 
 forgotten to sign the pledge, or he fell into 
 the hands of thieves, or what was more likely, 
 into the arms of Herletta's daughter. And 
 there is every reason to suppose, indeed there 
 is historical evidence to show, that when he 
 came to himself Ealph de Poloc lost no time 
 in heading his own expedition to England. 
 
 It is not recorded what were the exact 
 words which Duke William addressed to 
 his tardy yeoman when he showed him- 
 self at Court, but they were to this effect : 
 " Sirrah, thou art too late for the shak- 
 ing of the tree ; why, then, dost thou 
 think thyself in time for the gathering up
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 27 
 
 of the fruit ? Yet, seeing that where thou 
 sittest down, there thou takest root, get 
 thee into the middle of the land, where are 
 great forests and wide moors and rocks as 
 grim as thy own countenance ; carve thee 
 out a good wide seat and sit and take 
 root. And may thy branches be green until 
 until England be conquered a second time ! " 
 It would appear that the man who was 
 too late for the battle of Hastings, was yet 
 in time and perfectly willing to follow the 
 advice of his great chief. For when, temp. 
 Edward I., certain royal commissioners, who 
 were going about the country engaged in 
 the thankless task of questioning titles to 
 estates, arrived at Poloc, they found a state- 
 ly hall, in the midst of a mighty chace full 
 of big game. Eequired to show his titles, 
 Kalph de Poloc, a tall man with soft blue 
 eyes, and a great golden beard that fell so 
 low as his belt, stood forth, and, leaning on
 
 28 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 a rusty battle-axe, thus addressed the royal 
 commissioners : " My lords, the words of 
 William the Conqueror to my ancestor were 
 these, Get thee into the middle of the land, 
 and carve thee out a good wide seat, and 
 sit, and take root, and may thy branches 
 be green until England is conquered a 
 second time. And that have we done, by 
 the aid of the Blessed Saints. Our seat ex- 
 tends twelve miles to the west and twelve 
 miles to the east, four to the north and two 
 to the south; and within those boundaries, 
 there is no man who will question our 
 authority. My title to that is here ! " tap- 
 ping his ponderous battle-axe. " With this 
 axe my forebears carved out their seat, and 
 with this axe will I defend it." Whereupon 
 the commissioners, struck with the brave 
 stomach of a mere commoner, turned their 
 horses' heads and rode back by the way they 
 came.
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 29 
 
 The Polocs took kindly to heiresses, and 
 scarcely a generation went by without some 
 fair lady bringing broad acres into the 
 family. Their alliances brought them into 
 connection with the Cotams, Bigots, Scropes, 
 Aitons, Buhners, Dawnyses, Eures, Nevills, 
 Babingtons, Fulnetbys, and many another 
 name of good repute. They had estates in 
 Northamptonshire, Warwickshire, Lancashire, 
 and Yorkshire, and their power and glory 
 were great, as their quarterings were many 
 and brilliant. They were not a showy race, 
 nor ambitious, nor adventurous ; they led 
 mostly quiet lives, nurtured their strength 
 closely, and, taking small risks, were content 
 with like gains. As their personal achieve- 
 ments, with a few exceptions, were common- 
 place, their honours were without distinction. 
 They had no lack of wit, and opportunities 
 in abundance ; but they neither possessed 
 nor coveted the fierce ambition, the tower-
 
 30 THE BULL l' Tfi' THORN. 
 
 ing pride, the restless energy whereby men 
 mount aloft, knock their heads against the 
 stars, and fall gloriously. In historical im- 
 portance, therefore, the Polocs are not to 
 be mentioned in the same breath with the 
 Nevills, the Howards, the Bohuns, the Plan- 
 tagenets, the Percys, the Talbots, the Coiir- 
 tenays, and the Beauchamps. They were 
 not great soldiers or sailors, or statesmen 
 or churchmen. But they furnished Gentle- 
 men of the King's Bedchamber, Sheriffs of 
 the County, Members of Parliament, Royal 
 Commissioners, Escheators of Counties, Gov- 
 ernors of castles, Justices of the Peace, and 
 some few Judges. 
 
 A Poloc went to Virginia and never came 
 back again ; another Poloc wrote a History 
 of the Poloc Family that was capital reading ; 
 while a third Poloc was known to have 
 written a couple of plays that were never 
 acted, and a drinking - song that became a
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 3 1 
 
 popular favourite. Needless to say, these 
 daring spirits were all younger sons. As 
 before observed, the Polocs were not a 
 fighting family. When nunneries and mon- 
 asteries were in the market, and Church 
 lands were to be had for a song by those 
 who knew how to sing, or when forfeited 
 Irish estates were falling like ripe fruit into 
 the lap of the lucky on such occasions the 
 Polocs were well in front, and fought the 
 game like heroes. Their military record, 
 however, was scant. Still, on the other 
 hand, at what time they did buckle on their 
 sword, they acquitted themselves like men 
 who had come of a race of warriors, rather 
 than of a stock of peaceful country squires. 
 Bowing but seldom at the shrine of Bellona, 
 that strong-hearted goddess, as if to seduce 
 them from the inglorious habitude of peace, 
 marked their coming with signal favour. 
 Thus the going forth of a Poloc to battle
 
 32 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 was ever, in the event, a red-letter day in 
 the family annals ; and this, not from the 
 quantity of blood he lost or caused others 
 to lose, but from the glory he gathered. 
 
 Thus, on the bright morning of August 
 27, 1346, the day following the evening 
 that glowed with the star of Crecy, the great 
 Edward III. was on the battle-field, with the 
 Black Prince by his side, and surrounded by 
 his nobles, his valiant soldiers, and his dead 
 enemies to the number of thirty-five thousand, 
 including kings, princes, bannerets, knights, 
 gentlemen, men-at-arms, and the common 
 rank and file. Flags fluttered in the breeze, 
 armours flashed in the sunshine, there was a 
 blare of bugles clamorque virdm. Kneeling 
 in front of the king is one Kalph de Poloc, 
 who looks guilty in a guilty attitude. Sud- 
 denly, however, there is a mighty clangour 
 of trumpets, and the guilty-looking man is 
 proclaimed " Sir Kalph de Poloc, Knight
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 33 
 
 Banneret." The king takes him by the hand, 
 and as he rises to his feet looking like a par- 
 doned criminal, says to him, " Sir Ralph, 'tis 
 not given to every man to save the life of 
 his king's son. Thou hast well earned thy 
 knighthood." 
 
 Then the chief herald advances and delivers 
 to the banneret his letters-patent from the 
 king, dated the " Field of Crecy," reciting 
 his deed of prowess, that all the world might 
 know how, in a moment of peril, when by 
 some chance the young Prince of Wales found 
 himself alone and surrounded by a group 
 of French enemies, the said Ralph de Poloc 
 came with a great shout and a strong hand 
 to the rescue of his prince, clave the skulls 
 of five Gallic warriors ere they had time to 
 duck them, smote a sixth in the mouth so 
 that he swallowed a handful of teeth and 
 died thereof in great agony, and leaping at a 
 seventh, like a wild cat, caught him by the 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 34 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 throat and throttled him. Thus was the 
 young prince delivered from the hands of his 
 enemies ; and for the same service and to 
 " support his dignity," his sovereign gave him 
 " a grant of rents in the county of Lancaster, 
 value five hundred marks a-year." A very 
 seductive goddess is Bellona, in some of her 
 moods. 
 
 The contest between the houses of York 
 and Lancaster being a mere struggle for 
 power, made demands less upon the patriot- 
 ism than the self-interest of the subject. A 
 reflection, this, which the Polocs apparently 
 made for themselves, seeing that they did a 
 little fighting both for the Eed Kose and the 
 White. It was the great Opportunist period 
 of English history, when der Huge Mann kept 
 his weather-eye open, and trimmed and tacked 
 on the scientific principle of noting which 
 way the wind blew, and on which side his 
 bread was buttered. Henry VI. made Ealph
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 35 
 
 de Poloc sheriff of his home county of Derby, 
 escheator of the counties of Derby and 
 Stafford, and granted him the manor of 
 Atleswick in Yorkshire. The son of the 
 escheator, upon the death of his Lancastrian 
 sire, thought it prudent to tack, seeing that 
 Henry was in prison with every prospect of 
 remaining there. So he became a Yorkist, 
 wore the White Rose, was knighted by 
 Edward IV., and made governor of the 
 castle at Northampton, and afterwards at 
 Lancaster. 
 
 The battle of Flodden was a serious mis- 
 take from the Poloc standpoint. For on 
 that bloody field the son of the governor fell 
 to rise no more, while Bellona smiled grimly. 
 It was the only Poloc that ever fell in battle, 
 during seven hundred years of family his- 
 tory. He died bravely, of course ; but if he 
 had stayed at home and married his only son 
 to the great heiress, Julia, only child of Sir
 
 36 THE BULL F TH' THORN. 
 
 Netherby Cotam, there would have been 
 something done worth doing. As it was, his 
 death brought a little honour to the family, 
 and lost a splendid dot: there could be no 
 doubt the battle of Flo d den w r as a serious 
 mistake. 
 
 On the breaking out of the Civil War, the 
 Polocs sided with their king ; there was no 
 trimming and tacking in this Sturm und 
 Drang. They went into it like the loyal 
 gentlemen they were, and though the luck 
 went against them pretty heavily, they had 
 a good conscience to keep them warm against 
 the cold blast of adversity which smote them. 
 When the dogs of war were first let loose, 
 Ralph de Poloc was the first to execute 
 the king's commission of array in his own 
 county. He served as a colonel of dragoons, 
 and brought himself into such honourable 
 fame for his prowess and fidelity that the 
 Parliamentarians did him the signal honour
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 3 7 
 
 of excepting him by name from availing 
 himself of the privileges of the Treaty of 
 Uxbridge. 
 
 The bloody drama opened on Sunday 
 afternoon, October 23, 1642, and on that 
 hard -fought field at Edgehill, Ralph de 
 Poloc, with his long white beard, made 
 himself a name. Thrice were his dragoons 
 overpowered by the enemy and driven back 
 broken, only to rally again and charge with 
 redoubled fury, led by their bareheaded 
 colonel, who waved his sword and cried 
 aloud, "Forward, my boys ! Have at them 
 again ! For God and the king ! " And 
 with an answering shout, the troopers went 
 at it again and again until the enemy 
 broke and fled. But whether retiring or 
 pursuing, the white-bearded colonel never 
 once lost sight of the king's person. While 
 the fiery Rupert was hunting the flying 
 squadrons of the enemy from the field, the
 
 38 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 main body of the royal forces was sorely 
 pressed by the foot and horse of Essex ; the 
 royal standard was taken and the standard- 
 bearer slain. The king himself had a narrow 
 escape of being captured. At a critical 
 moment he was left almost alone, and the 
 enemy close upon him. With half-a-dozen 
 of his men, the colonel threw himself be- 
 tween the king and the enemy, and engaged 
 in a fierce and most dramatic hand-to-hand 
 contest. Gradually there gathered round 
 the king a small band mainly of noblemen 
 and gentlemen, and the person of his Majesty 
 was safe. For this act of bravery, the king 
 knighted the gallant colonel on the field. 
 He was afterwards taken prisoner and con- 
 fined for several years in London by the 
 Committee of the Commons ; his life was 
 in danger for some time, but eventually he 
 was discharged on the payment of a large 
 sum of money.
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA! 39 
 
 Oddly enough, so far as can be gathered 
 from the family records, the Polocs were 
 concerned only with the beginning and the 
 end of the Civil War : the colonel was at 
 Edgehill, and his son and successor was at 
 the "crowning mercy" of Worcester. Be- 
 tween the two events, the military record 
 of the Polocs is a curious blank. After 
 Worcester, Ralph de Poloc went into hiding ; 
 all his estates were confiscated, and his 
 property at once seized upon. While in 
 concealment, he came one day in a wood 
 across three country men, one of whom was 
 dressed in a pair of common grey cloth 
 breeches, a leathern doublet, and a green 
 jerkin. Their glances met, and, with a start, 
 Poloc fell upon his knee exclaiming, "My 
 God ! Sire, is it possible ? " It was the king. 
 In making his way to the coast, Poloc was 
 surprised by some troopers and made pris- 
 oner. He lay in prison for some months,
 
 40 THE BULL l' TH ? THOEN. 
 
 and was then sent, in company with some 
 Scotch prisoners, to New England, where he 
 was sold into servitude for five years. Not 
 a pleasant fate for an English gentleman 
 this ; but the Eev. John Cotton, minister at 
 Boston then, in a letter to Cromwell, thought 
 it was kindly usage. Ealph de Poloc thought 
 otherwise though his master, Mr Isaac Al- 
 lerton, was a godly Puritan with a twang, 
 and a deacon to boot. 
 
 At this time, when church membership 
 was a condition of citizenship, and to be 
 outside the Church was to suffer the loss of 
 all political rights ; when people commonly 
 addressed each other as " brother " and 
 " sister," odd as it appears, the class 
 distinctions of the madre patria were in 
 existence in the heart of the New England 
 commonwealth. No mechanic, farmer, or 
 labourer could be a "gentleman"; he was 
 only " Goodman " So-and-so. To be a
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA! 41 
 
 gentleman was to be exempt from the 
 punishment of whipping. 
 
 Mr Isaac Allerton, though he was born 
 the son of an innkeeper within sound of 
 Bow Bells, was a colonial " gentleman." He 
 was tall, with a severe cast of countenance, 
 and only one eye, which he always kept 
 open to the main chance. He dressed in 
 drab from head to heel, and wore a belted 
 doublet, short breeches, woollen stockings, 
 low shoes, a broad-brimmed hat with a 
 low crown, a wide ruff, gauntlet gloves, a 
 cloak that reached to his knees, and a sword 
 at his side. He was a man of substance, 
 dignity, piety, and honour ; he was not only 
 a deacon, but also a councillor of the Gen- 
 eral Court, held large grants of land, and 
 was the best boat-builder in Boston. 
 
 This gentleman treated the unfortunate 
 Ralph de Poloc cavalierly, which here means 
 puritanically, dictionaries notwithstanding.
 
 42 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 In the direction of Charlestown, he owned 
 some rough timber-land which he wished 
 cleared ; so he set his bond-servant to 
 burning brushwood, picking up stones, felling 
 trees, grubbing up roots, fencing, draining, 
 and suchlike work of a light and easy 
 nature, in which there was no element of 
 degradation, and nothing that was uncon- 
 genial to a man like Poloc. 
 
 His companions in labour were also men 
 of his breed : men who had sat in the bilboes 
 and the stocks, and had stood bravely in the 
 pillory for minor offences ; there were several 
 slit-eared gentry in the gang, while one man 
 had sewed on his coat two large letters, 
 D. A., whereof the interpretation was, 
 Drunkard and Adulterer; and another un- 
 fortunate, having been convicted of theft, 
 had wellnigh lost his wits with chagrin, 
 because he had been solemnly condemned 
 thenceforward to be called plain Silas, instead
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 43 
 
 of Mr Silas Wigglesworth as formerly. This 
 man evidently was hardly used. 
 
 After ten months of this kind of life, Poloc 
 was transferred to the shipbuilding yard, 
 and set to work upon shallops, ketches, 
 lighters, and pinnaces, intended for fishery 
 and coast trade. He saw a ship of two 
 hundred and fifty tons burden launched, 
 rigged, freighted, and sent forth with solemn 
 prayers to far-off Spain. By the time Poloc 
 had got his hand into trim as a shipwright, 
 he had had enough of New England to last 
 him all his life, and he determined if possible 
 to escape. He laid his plans accordingly, and 
 succeeded in getting away in a small open boat 
 one dark night in February, with provisions 
 enough to last him a couple of days. He 
 had intended to make for Monhegan Island, 
 then a great resort for fishing -ships from 
 West of England and Channel ports ; but as 
 the wind was contrary, he hoisted a sprit-
 
 44 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 sail and shaped a course for Cape Cod. 
 His navigation was of an empirical character, 
 and the next morning he found himself at 
 sea in both senses of the phrase, out of sight 
 of land, and sailing, like Columbus, by the 
 chart of faith and the compass of hope. 
 Nevertheless, by the good providence that 
 ever tendeth the infant in years or in know- 
 ledge, on the fifth day he found himself and 
 his craft both alive in Nantucket Sound, 
 wherein he was picked up by a fishing-shallop 
 belonging to Rhode Island, where he was 
 landed. 
 
 Rhode Island, like Maine, was excluded 
 from the confederacy of the various settle- 
 ments, which had taken the name of the 
 "United Colonies of New England." For 
 one thing, Rhode Island was largely settled 
 by exiles and refugees who had been driven 
 out from the United Colonies as heretics, 
 together with others who had found the
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMIN1S UMBRA ! 45 
 
 strict rule of the Puritans intolerable. 
 Moreover, while the United Colonies sided 
 with the Parliament, Rhode Island was in 
 sympathy with the king. This difference 
 in social temperament and in religious and 
 political predilections, formed a barrier of 
 latent hostility between the two bodies, 
 which was of no small advantage to Poloc. 
 The Rhode Islanders received him cordially, 
 fed him royally, and concealed him for the 
 space of three months, when they got him 
 on board a French ship and wished him 
 God-speed. In three months' time he was 
 safe in Paris, poor as a church mouse and 
 with an exceedingly lively appetite. In this 
 dilemma, he remembered that he ha,d a 
 natural turn for mechanics, so he turned 
 cutler, set up a shop in Paris, and did a 
 brisk trade in English knives and steel 
 buckles. 
 
 At the Restoration, Charles II. did not for-
 
 46 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 get to reward the man who had struck for 
 him at Worcester, and had guarded him in 
 his flight. He restored to him his confis- 
 cated estates, gave him five thousand pounds 
 as an indemnity, and for his father's and his 
 own services to the royal cause, the king 
 created him a baronet on September the 
 3d, 1662. For some reason unknown to 
 history, the Polocs at this time dropped the 
 prefix which had clung to them for so many 
 centuries, and their representative at the 
 Restoration was known simply as Sir Ralph 
 Poloc. 
 
 For another century, the Polocs main- 
 tained their wealth, power, and dignity. 
 They exhibited no marks of decay, and 
 among the many well-rooted families of the 
 land, none seemed to promise a longer lease 
 of life. Here was a family of quiet country 
 gentlemen, in which there was no instance 
 of the direct line being broken during seven 
 hundred years. And what is, perhaps,
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMIN1S UMBRA ! 47 
 
 equally singular, except in two instances, 
 one in the thirteenth century and the other 
 in the fifteenth, the representative of the 
 family had always borne the name of Ralph. 
 Such a family might well have been looked 
 upon as the familia 2^edilecta de la Fortuna 
 y de la Historia. Yet its days were num- 
 bered, and it fell suddenly and for ever. 
 This was not the work of slow decay, nor 
 the fruit of treason, nor the outcome of 
 revolution. It was the work of one man, 
 a fine gentleman, a voluptuary, and, above 
 all, a gambler. 
 
 On the evening of the 2d of June 1764, 
 a man who had been employed for some 
 months as ostler at an old hostelry in 
 the neighbourhood of Smithfield, entered 
 the bar to have a drink with a stranger. 
 The ostler had a bloated face, a trembling 
 hand, and a sad look of premature old age. 
 Suddenly the stranger laid his hand on 
 the ostler's shoulder, and, with a loud
 
 48 THE BULL f TH' THORN. 
 
 laugh, said, " I've nabbed you at last, sure 
 
 as death ! I arrest you, Sir Ealph " 
 
 Before the officer could utter another word, 
 full in his face the ostler dashed a large jug 
 filled with beer. And as the man sank 
 bleeding and insensible to the floor, the 
 ostler drew a pistol from his pocket and shot 
 himself dead. Thus- died at the age of 
 thirty -six Sir Ralph Poloc, Bart., fifth in 
 succession. It is recorded that the gay and 
 fashionable world held its breath for an 
 unrecorded length of time in painful sur- 
 prise and horror, when it heard of the tragic 
 end of one who for some years had been 
 courted, flattered, and fooled as the soul of 
 gaiety, the mirror of fashion, the prince of 
 lady-killers, the pink of duellists, and the 
 most inveterate gambler going. A sorry 
 celebrity for a Poloc to enjoy ; but enjoy it 
 he did, and, unlike many other celebrities, 
 he did his best to earn it, and he earned it.
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 49 
 
 His father dying when he was under five 
 years of age, a very large sum of money was 
 accumulated during Sir Ralph's minority ; 
 this, added to a rent-roll of sixteen thousand 
 a -year, backed by a pedigree that would 
 have illuminated a dukedom, afforded him a 
 fair opportunity of giving the world a few 
 lessons in the difficult Art of Living. He left 
 Eton under a cloud, and Oxford without a 
 degree. At ten years of age, he kept his 
 harriers. At seventeen, he had a small 
 seraglio. At twenty-two, he was laughing 
 at the fun of the thing, because the wind 
 had come into his coach, when he was full 
 of wine and sleep, and snatched away, and 
 carried to goodness knew where, for he did 
 not, a lapful of bank-notes. 
 
 One eventful night ended a career that 
 was full of social brilliance, of romantic 
 episode, of eccentric adventure, of refined 
 vice, of reckless extravagance and maddest 
 
 VOL. i. D
 
 50 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 gambling. At the house of the well-known 
 Lady Betty Pynchan, he sat down to play 
 a rich man, and rose a beggar. He had 
 gambled away all his estates. He left the 
 gilded world with a smile upon his face, and 
 passed completely out of sight, and nothing- 
 more was heard of him until the day when 
 he put an end to his existence rather than 
 face the King's Bench prison. He had 
 availed himself of that solemn piece of legal 
 jugglery formerly practised under the name 
 of " suffering a common recovery," and by 
 the aid of that cumbrous and questionable 
 machinery had made a testamentary aliena- 
 tion of the whole of his property. 
 
 His only child, a lad of nine, inherited the 
 title and a trunk full of odd heirlooms, and 
 nothing besides. An orphan and absolutely 
 penniless, he spent his childhood in the 
 family of a poor man who had been one of 
 his father's farm - labourers. At the age of
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 5 1 
 
 twelve he was apprenticed to the village 
 shoemaker. He grew up, under the shadow 
 of the hall that should have been his own 
 but was now the home of strangers, silent, 
 reserved, and melancholy. He was never 
 anything but an indifferent craftsman ; his 
 shoes were marvels of clumsiness. As an 
 engineer he might have done some respect- 
 able work, but as a shoemaker he was a 
 failure. Nevertheless, the people of Poloc 
 made it a point to buy his work, and to pay 
 him for what they bought. They never 
 forgot that the poor sad-visaged cobbler was 
 Sir Ralph Poloc, whose forebears had been 
 seated on the wooded hill since the days of 
 the Conqueror. That Sir Ralph himself was 
 not sitting in the venerable seat of his 
 ancestors, instead of masquerading as one of 
 themselves, was to them a dark mystery, 
 a social nightmare. It made them feel 
 uneasy, gave them a sense of unreality, and
 
 52 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 favoured the gloomy suggestion that the end 
 of all things was at hand. 
 
 After some years had passed away, it was 
 suddenly discovered that Sir Ralph had still 
 a claim to the old " Bull i' th' Thorn " and 
 its accompanying five acres of moorland. 
 When he took possession which he did only 
 after a wretched fight at law with the new 
 Squire Crump, when all Poloc sided with 
 their natural chief, and chimney-nooks and 
 crannies in the thatched roofs and old worsted 
 stockings gave up carefully hoarded pieces 
 of gold and silver, and every man, woman, 
 and child in the place, with the devotion of 
 clansmen for their chief, gave something to 
 help Sir Ealph to hold his own the village 
 went almost mad with delight. The land 
 was coming back again to its true owners, 
 they thought, and ere long the laws of 
 nature would reassert themselves, the Polocs 
 would have their own again, and the painful
 
 MAGNI STAT NOMINIS UMBRA ! 5 3 
 
 suggestion of the approaching end of all 
 things would soon be nothing more than a 
 strange and startling memory. They lighted 
 bonfires, they broached casks of beer, they 
 sang and danced and shouted. And when 
 at midnight they came to the front of the 
 house, to cheer him and wish him good 
 night, and good luck for the future, and the 
 poor baronet began to say a few words and 
 was overcome with emotion, then did a great 
 wave of sympathy pass over them, so that 
 women sobbed aloud, and the men passed 
 away silently in the darkness, and the backs 
 of many hands were raised facewards in a 
 curious manner. The laws of nature, in the 
 sense contemplated by the denizens of Poloc, 
 failed to reassert themselves. The inherit- 
 ance of the Polocs had gone for good. 
 
 For some years Sir Ralph lived a sort of 
 hermit's life in the deserted and lonely inn on 
 the edge of the moor. He grew more and more
 
 54 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 reserved and solitary in manner and habit 
 of life ; so that in course of time something 
 of the weird and mysterious attached itself to 
 him, and in the popular imagination, especi- 
 ally of the younger portion of the community, 
 he embodied the ever pitiful, fascinating, and 
 terrible idea of a victim of a Higher Power. 
 Scevce 'memorem Junonis ob iram. 
 
 Somehow, no one seemed greatly surprised 
 when Sir Ealph took to wife the daughter 
 of the poor man, now dead, who had taken 
 him into his family when a child. They had 
 grown up together, and she had waited upon 
 him hand and foot for years, with a devotion 
 that apparently sprang from love. Yet Sir 
 Ralph was as ignorant of her real character 
 and motives as the rest of the little world in 
 which she lived. She ruled her husband, not 
 with a rod of iron, because a fern-stalk was 
 strong enough ; and she bore him one child, 
 named as a Poloc only could be named, Ralph.
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 
 
 A FEW minutes after Squire Crump had rid- 
 den away, and the heavy oaken door had 
 banged unceremoniously behind him, the 
 kitchen-door, on a level with the courtyard, 
 opened, and a man came out, and crossing 
 the yard slowly, entered the great cavernous 
 barn that fronted the house with a wide- 
 open mouth of blackness. His tall, slender 
 figure was bowed, though not with age ; 
 while his slow, hesitating, almost tremulous 
 gait suggested, not bodily feebleness so much 
 as enervation of mind. The air of subjec- 
 tion and weakness of will that seemed to
 
 56 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 characterize him, grew painful the instant 
 one looked in his face. For it was a face 
 of pathetic charm, such as lent immediate 
 interest and distinction to the bent and 
 stricken figure, with its old three-cornered 
 hat, green-black with age ; its heavy patched 
 shoes, that seemed to cling with malicious 
 tenacity to the ground ; and its long smock- 
 frock, yellow with long usage, and having a 
 short cape on the shoulders. A pale, sad 
 face, refined and gentle in expression, with 
 features full of strange readings of strength, 
 and of hints and flashes of superiority and 
 pride that seemed to mock the depressed and 
 vanquished figure of their owner. 
 
 This man with smock-frock and figure of 
 abasement was Sir Ralph Poloc. Sic volvere 
 Parcas. At one end of the empty barn was 
 a small doorway the door was off its hinges 
 and lay close by on the grass through 
 which the young-old man passed. He tra-
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OP POKER. 57 
 
 versed a grass-grown rickyard and a small 
 pasture, in which was a lean cow that stood 
 gazing into vacancy, lost in melancholy 
 rumination. Beyond the pasture was a 
 patch of rough arable land, which a man 
 was ploughing with a two-wheeled plough, 
 drawn by a vicious-looking mule. Sir Ealph 
 leaned upon the pasture - gate, and waited 
 until the ploughman came along and halted 
 his mule close to him. 
 
 "Well, dad, what is it? Are you going 
 to try your hand at a furrow ? " cried the 
 ploughman, with a kindly tone and a cheery 
 laugh. 
 
 " Nay, my lad, not to-day. Your mother 
 sent me to tell you to stop the work and 
 come in. That is, as soon as you've milked 
 the cow." 
 
 " What's the hurry ? It will be light for 
 another hour or more. I want to finish this 
 job to-day."
 
 58 THE BULL l' TH.' THORN. 
 
 " She wants you to get in a stock of wood 
 before it is dark. Your mother is looking 
 for company to-night, I fancy." 
 
 " Company, eh ? What company ever 
 comes to the ' Bull i' th' Thorn/ unless it 
 
 be " The ploughman checked himself. 
 
 His face grew suddenly dark and savage 
 as the moor around him. " Is it those 
 damned reevers again?" he asked in an 
 angry tone. 
 
 " Not so loud, lad, nor so fierce ! I don't 
 know. She has told me nothing more than 
 that she looks for company to-night, if the 
 sky suits. As ye hope for peace, Kalph, say 
 nothing to anger her. It is none of my 
 business or thine, lad, for the matter of 
 that. Happen we had both best keep out 
 of it, till they're away again," answered Sir 
 Ralph, in a tone of entreaty. 
 
 " She as good as promised last year that 
 the thing should stop. It isn't right, father.
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKEE. 59 
 
 It's confoundedly disreputable, if it isn't 
 worse." 
 
 " Is it my doing, lad ? " exclaimed Sir 
 Kalph, pathetically. 
 
 Continued the ploughman energetically 
 " Poverty is bad enough, the Lord knows, when 
 it is honourable and honest ! But mix it with 
 dishonour and it becomes hateful. It is like 
 showing ulcers through your rags. Fancy a 
 Poloc coming to that ! No ! not if I know it. 
 I'll do as I said I would clear out first." 
 
 " And I couldn't blame you, Ralph. You 
 are your own master, lad, seeing that you are 
 not married. But you would have to take 
 care that somebody didn't guess what you 
 
 were about, or There, there ! what am I 
 
 saying ? When I am strong, I feel it would 
 be best for you ; at other times, the thought 
 is more than I can bear. If you ever do it, 
 do it suddenly, without anybody knowing 
 not even your old foolish father. No, no !
 
 60 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 what am I saying ? What would somebody 
 say if she heard me ? Lad, you mustn't do 
 it. It would kill me." 
 
 A weak and pitiable figure did the sub- 
 dued baronet make just then. He certainly 
 seemed to be absolutely incapable of ever 
 framing such a fiery message as the one that 
 Lady Poloc flung, in his name, at Squire 
 Crump. And, truth to tell, her ladyship 
 resembled those historic jars that received 
 water and gave forth wine, with this differ- 
 ence, that her ladyship's wine was very apt 
 to be vinegar. 
 
 The son looked at the father, and his 
 angry face grew light, and his eyes became 
 very tender. " Nay, dad, it won't. If it 
 had not been for mother, I should have been 
 off, as you know, any time this last five 
 years ; and happen I should have made a 
 fortune by now. But it's not too late yet. 
 I'm only just turned twenty, and I "
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKEK. 61 
 
 " Hush, hush ! not another word. Some- 
 body has ears that carry half-way to the 
 moon. Come in, lad, now, and do as your 
 mother wants you." 
 
 Sir Ealph turned and walked half-way 
 across the pasture, then he came back at a 
 quick totter which was meant for a trot. 
 The ploughman was driving the plough 
 under the hedge, previous to unhitching 
 the mule. 
 
 He looked up, as his father leaned over the 
 gate, and said, " What now, dad ? " 
 
 " If somebody should want you to take a 
 a situation somewhere as as nay, lad, 
 you mustn't swear as a groom, before you 
 accept it, Ealph, think about it, and and 
 refuse it. Not a word about me, lad, on 
 your life. I couldn't stand that, Ealph. A 
 Poloc at Poloc Hall must be master, eh, 
 Ealph, or nothing at all ? Be quick in, 
 there's a good lad."
 
 62 THE BULL F TH' THORN. 
 
 Then Sir Ralph tottered away towards the 
 house, with a peaceful smile upon his beauti- 
 ful face. The ploughman, meanwhile, stood 
 for some little time frowning at the mule. 
 At least the mule evidently thought that he 
 was the object of his driver's intent and 
 angry stare, for he laid his ears back, lowered 
 his head with an air of hypocritical submis- 
 sion to any impending fate, and kept a sharp 
 look-out from the corner of his eye. 
 
 The mule is not a handsome animal at his 
 best, and, at his worst, he is the most dis- 
 reputable and knavish - looking animal in 
 creation, excepting always the lord of ani- 
 mals himself. This particular mule was one 
 of the sorriest of his mongrel breed ; yet, as 
 an object of contemplation he was beauty 
 itself, compared with the mental images that 
 were flitting before Ralph's inward eye, 
 throwing a gloomy anger into his dark 
 amber eyes, and crumpling his broad white
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 63 
 
 brow. At length the mule grew nervous 
 under this strange attack of silent and 
 motionless reproach. Abuse he was superior 
 to and blows, though he did not relish, he 
 understood ; but this new method of vilifi- 
 cation was more than his delicately organised 
 system could stand. Without more ado, he 
 suddenly dropped his head lower than the 
 lowest note of resignation, until in fact he 
 reached the neighbouring angle of rebellion, 
 when, with a smothered scream and a buck- 
 jump, he began kicking as if his life depended 
 on the activity of his hind feet. 
 
 The young man gave a slight start, and 
 for a few moments watched the mule's per- 
 formance with an amused expression of 
 countenance. Then he said 
 
 " Come, Nick, that is enough. The har- 
 ness won't stand much more of your fun." 
 
 The animal gave one more exhibition of 
 heels, a final, supreme, and really magnifi-
 
 64 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 cent effort, and instantly subsided into the 
 ordinary unerithusiastic mulo. On his way 
 to stable, Nick was joined by the melancholy 
 cow, whose spirits had been revived by his 
 fandango, which she had watched afar until 
 the inspiration of the moment seized her, 
 and she set off tearing round the pasture 
 with her tail high up in air. Ealph curried 
 and fed the mule, milked and pastured the 
 cow, and then buckled to work sawing logs 
 of firewood under one of the wain -sheds. 
 He whistled as he worked, ever and anon 
 breaking out in song, when his fine melodi- 
 ous baritone awoke the echoes of the court- 
 yard, that fled through the great pile of 
 decayed outbuildings, rousing the bats almost 
 from their long wisdom-sleep, and causing 
 the grey mice to stop their gambols, listen, 
 blink, palpitate, and wonder. 
 
 When Ralph had sawn and split what he 
 thought would be enough to last out the
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 65 
 
 longest and the coldest night of the year, 
 he put the wood into a heavy wheel-barrow, 
 wheeled it into the house, and stacked the 
 logs on one side of the large open fireplace, 
 in which as yet there was no fire. There 
 were two fireplaces in this room the 
 kitchen one large enough to roast a sheep 
 in front, and the other a small cottage-grate, 
 that held just enough fire to warm the black 
 cat, that sat on the top of the fender and did 
 nothing all day long but turn first one side 
 and then another to the handful of fire in 
 the grate. The open fireplace was a dead 
 hearth and a howling wind- vent all the year 
 round, save on those special occasions when 
 Lady Poloc received company if the sky 
 suited. 
 
 Ealph was stacking the second barrow- 
 load of logs, when his mother said to him 
 
 " You had better sit you down and have 
 your supper now, Rafe." 
 
 VOL. i. E
 
 66 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 "All right, mother; I'm hungry enough. 
 I will be ready in ten minutes." 
 
 " Ten minutes isn't now. I said Now," 
 cried her ladyship, in streperous and strident 
 tones. 
 
 " Do you mean, mother, that I am to 
 leave the barrow here in the middle of the 
 room ? Because now's now, if you are so 
 very strict," answered Ealph, with an evi- 
 dent effort to soften his voice and keep 
 down, at least so far as his tongue went, the 
 flash of temper that was already in his eyes. 
 
 " Let me have none of your sauce here, 
 young man, or I'll speedily give you some 
 dressing. Put that barrow outside, and then 
 come you straight to your supper, or go 
 without it altogether, sir ! " 
 
 There was something extremely irritating 
 in the open contempt that Lady Poloc mani- 
 fested for the suaviter in modo exercise of 
 authority. Nick, who was only a mule,
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 67 
 
 would have kicked at such brutal jerking of 
 the reins and rasping of the mouth ; Peggy, 
 who was only a melancholy cow, would have 
 felt that self-respect compelled her to con- 
 scientiously put her foot in the milk-pail ; 
 even the grunter, Jeshurun so called be- 
 cause he waxed fat who roamed about the 
 premises much as a dog would do, would 
 have resented such treatment by entering 
 the forbidden garden, and playing havoc 
 with the winter cabbages. These, in truth, 
 were four-legged animals, and, as such, were 
 questionless entitled to exactly as much again 
 consideration as an animal possessing only 
 two legs. On the other hand, their friend 
 and master, young Mr Ralph, could boast 
 a little red member of such wonderful speak- 
 ing power that Jeshurun, Peggy, and Nick 
 had long since come to an agreement that he 
 was worthy of being ranked as a four-footed 
 creature.
 
 68 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 Just now, as Kalph put down the barrow 
 and stood facing his mother, there came over 
 him a spirit of revolt, darker and stronger 
 than anything that could be yielded from 
 the combined rebelliousness of grunter, cow, 
 and mule. 
 
 " I have been working in the ploughed 
 field, and in the cow-house, and in the wood- 
 shed. Am I not to have a wash, mother, 
 before I eat my supper ? " 
 
 Eemarkably quiet and calm was Ralph in 
 tone and manner, but his head was a little 
 higher up than usual, and his mouth was 
 closed firm as a vice. Lady Poloc knew 
 very well what kind of spirit she had aroused 
 in him; he had got the bit between his 
 teeth, and in another second he would be 
 going at his own pace, and she could do 
 nothing with him. She could never tell 
 beforehand what would rouse him, and what 
 would not. Usually, he submitted to her
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 69 
 
 arbitrary will almost as passively as Sir 
 Ralph himself ; then again, as now, he would 
 suddenly draw up and resist, and rather 
 die than yield. Lady Poloc detested such 
 capriciousness and uncertainty of disposi- 
 tion, which made her feel never sure of her 
 ground. She was unable to register, with 
 any degree of certainty, the progress she was 
 making in the subjugation of Ealph's will ; 
 and, what was worse still, she was always 
 liable to surprise, sudden rebellion, and open 
 defeat. She saw now that Ralph was on his 
 mettle ; that unless she retreated from her 
 position, she would be once more vanquished. 
 Seeing this, her imperious and loveless soul 
 filled with fury and madness. 
 
 With a quick turn she seized the poker, 
 and exclaiming, " Ye'll jaw me, will ye ! " 
 she aimed a blow at her son's head that 
 would have cracked it like a nutshell, had 
 it carried.
 
 70 
 
 It is an open question if, by warding 
 off a fatal attack, destiny ever does a sub- 
 stantial kindness to any one threatened. But 
 Kalph Poloc, though thoroughly disgusted 
 with his lot, and often tempted to wish him- 
 self dead, had a perfectly intelligible repug- 
 nance to being murdered. By a quick move- 
 ment he barely escaped the blow his mother 
 aimed at him ; to seize her wrist with one 
 hand and wrench the weapon from her grasp 
 with the other, was the work of a moment. 
 
 "Mother," said the young man, coolly, 
 " you are a fool. Do you think I shall stand 
 still and let you kill me ? If it comes to 
 blows, I could- though God forbid I should 
 ever lift a finger against you. But after 
 this, mother, I must clear out, whether you 
 like it or not." 
 
 He turned away without another word, put 
 the poker on the fender, removed the wheel- 
 barrow, and then went up -stairs to wash.
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 71 
 
 Except on Sundays, not oftener than once a- 
 week, and frequently not for weeks together, 
 did Poloc think it worth while to change 
 from his rough, coarse farm-clothes into his 
 Sunday best suit, when his day's work was 
 done. Not that he was lazy, or boorish, or 
 slovenly ; on the contrary, his habits of per- 
 sonal cleanliness were such as became his 
 gentle birth rather than his poverty-stricken 
 lot. 
 
 Habits are not always consolidated in- 
 stincts and tastes ; not infrequently they are 
 little more than compulsory conventionalities, 
 stiffened into custom but not welded into 
 second nature. With every temptation to 
 make common cause with vulgarity and dirt, 
 Poloc, following the bent of his nature and 
 defying the tyranny of circumstances, re- 
 mained curiously nice and delicate in his 
 habits and tastes. But though water was 
 cheap enough and Poloc revelled in this
 
 72 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 sweet beggar's luxury night and morning 
 clean linen was another matter, especially 
 when Lady Poloc was the laundress ; while 
 the man who could renew his Sunday best 
 suit only once in four years, could hardly 
 have expected to make a presentable appear- 
 ance to the end, had he worn it every night 
 in the kitchen. This was Poloc's position, 
 and he made the best he could of it, like 
 a wise man. The result, however, was, that 
 whenever he appeared in his Sunday best, 
 his mother instantly knew that he was going 
 to spend the evening out. And it was not 
 always pleasant for him to meet the invari- 
 able string of questions with which his mother 
 encountered him. 
 
 This evening, however, when Poloc came 
 down-stairs, having changed his clothes, her 
 ladyship, who by this had recovered her 
 equanimity, did not venture to put any 
 questions. She was rather pleased that the
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 73 
 
 young man, who was afflicted, as she held it, 
 with certain ridiculous whims, and quixotic 
 notions of what constituted honesty of con- 
 duct, should withdraw himself and his absurd 
 prejudices from home for some hours. If 
 he had only had an ounce, or even half an 
 ounce, of gumption, in place of his thump- 
 ing pound of silly high-flown principle, he 
 would have made a most valuable auxil- 
 iary, she thought within herself. A shrewd, 
 witty, nimble fellow would have been able 
 to extract more than one golden sovereign 
 from opportunities that lay in his path, but 
 which Poloc disdained to utilize. 
 
 It was disheartening and almost disgraceful 
 to have such an obstinate, witless son to call 
 one's own ; but the good woman was some- 
 what soothed by the reflection that what 
 could not be cured must be endured; and 
 since Providence had seen fit to impose such 
 a burden upon her, it was her Christian duty
 
 74 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 to bow with at least simulated resignation 
 to a will higher and stronger, and, seemingly, 
 harder than her own. 
 
 For let no one lightly imagine that Lady 
 Poloc scoffed at religion, or even turned to 
 it a deaf ear or a cold shoulder. She was 
 a devout woman, and attended church 
 summer and winter, wet or dry, with ex- 
 emplary regularity. The parson held the 
 opinion, and spread it through the parish, 
 that among all his parishioners he knew 
 of none that was in a more " salvable con- 
 dition" than Lady Poloc. She made it a 
 point of conscience to give to the church 
 a tenth of any small sum she might be 
 fortunate enough to make by receiving com- 
 pany if the sky suited ; while another tenth 
 was demurely set apart solely for personal 
 attire, in which she could attend divine 
 service with a comfortable sense of not look- 
 ing exactly like a pauper or a peasant.
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 75 
 
 In his Sunday best suit, which consisted 
 of a dark-blue coat, with a high collar stiffly 
 turned back, and cut short at the waist, 
 below which appeared some inches of an 
 embroidered waistcoat, a large light - blue 
 cravat round his neck tied loosely in bows, 
 drab pantaloons that reached to the middle 
 of his calf, and joined by half top-boots, 
 Kalph Poloc looked quite another man from 
 what he did when driving plough. To be 
 sure, his clothes were well worn, and their 
 style was provincial and slightly antique ; 
 but the fit was good, the colour was quiet 
 and in good taste, and the wearer carried 
 himsel/ with an easy grace that was quite 
 beyond the reach of the ordinary yeoman's 
 son. 
 
 The genuine Bond Street lounger would 
 questionless have been amazed and appalled 
 at the antiquated provincialism of Poloc's 
 attire, but that superior creature would
 
 76 THE BULL l' TH' THOEN. 
 
 certainly not have failed to recognize in 
 Poloc the veritable though quaint and crude 
 image of a gentleman. He was a tall strap- 
 ping fellow, with dark hair and moustache, 
 and with the face of a Poloc. 
 
 The Poloc face was always a thing of 
 pathetic beauty. Full of soul and intellect 
 and a subtile pride that added to its charm, 
 it was lacking in mastery, in animality, in the 
 brute strength without which no man's face is 
 an adequate expression of complete manhood. 
 A delicate shadow ever rested upon the face. 
 digamoslo asi, the historic forecast of the 
 sadness to come. Eefinement, high-breeding, 
 exquisite sensibility, were stamped in unmis- 
 takeable characters ; but the long oval outline 
 of the Poloc face had never enclosed, among 
 its mysterious ridges and hollows and curves, 
 any sign or token of the firm will, the clear 
 purpose, the willingness to begin, the willing- 
 ness to keep on, the willingness never to
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 77 
 
 give up, such as characterizes and makes 
 worthy of close attention the face of the 
 British bull -dog. And though Poloc, any 
 time within the previous five hundred years, 
 might have reproachfully enquired, Is thy 
 servant a dog? it would always have been 
 a true answer that, as alloy enhances the 
 practical value of gold, so a streak of the 
 dog in their nature would have stiffened it 
 to the baser uses of humanity. 
 
 Poloc got his hat and stick, and was 
 making for the door when his mother called 
 out, from the far end of the long kitchen 
 
 " You have not had your supper yet, 
 Rafe." 
 
 " I didn't know there was any for me," 
 answered Poloc, making a momentary halt. 
 
 " Then whose is that on the table, I'd like 
 to know ? " 
 
 " I didn't know it was mine. But if it is, 
 I am ready for it."
 
 78 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 So saying, lie put down his hat and stick, 
 and sat down to his meal, that was humble 
 enough to have merited the contempt of 
 an ordinary high-stomached beggar. What 
 with his beggarly supper and his wretched 
 surroundings, Poloc in his Sunday best made 
 a strangely incongruous figure, in the flicker- 
 ing light of the solitary candle that stood at 
 his elbow on the long massive old table, and 
 just managed to bring out in relief the bare 
 board, the brown loaf, the broken plate with 
 a small lump of cheese, the water-jug with a 
 cut lip, and the beautiful profile of the young 
 fellow, who ate as if the gods had taught 
 him the art of extracting the divine flavours 
 that lurk unsuspected in the commonest of 
 comestibles. 
 
 Watching him from out the thick gloom 
 that enveloped the rest of the room, Lady 
 Poloc thought that, failing to be the squire, 
 her lad would make a fine squire's groom.
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 79 
 
 She was just wondering if she had not better 
 tell him of the Squire's offer at once, when 
 suddenly a strange unearthly noise was 
 heard somewhere outside. For some little 
 time the outside air was full of the weird- 
 est moanings and groanings, wailings and 
 screechings, that ever issued out of darkness 
 and entered into the superstitious, sound- 
 distorting ear of mortal man. To Chaucer, 
 and even to Shakespeare, the hideous caco- 
 phony would have sounded quite familiar ; 
 but times and practices and sounds had 
 come and gone since their days, and a dis- 
 cord that for many a long year had been as 
 well known in every English village as is the 
 scraping of a fiddle to-day, smote upon the 
 listeners as a mysterious and gruesome din. 
 
 Sir Ralph rose from his arm-chair beside 
 the fireplace from which he had not stirred 
 an inch during the poker episode and 
 stared out through the low wide window,
 
 80 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 with a look upon his face of a man who saw 
 a vision. While her ladyship was dimly 
 visible at the far end of the room steadying 
 herself by the old dresser, while she repeated 
 aloud in full nervous tones the Apostles' 
 Creed. Poloc pushed his now empty plate 
 on one side, seized his hat and stick, and 
 made for the door. Before he had taken 
 three steps the vile dissonance was at an 
 end, and there came the clear martial notes 
 of a bagpipe, shaking the blood to the battle- 
 tune of the " Campbells are coming." Lady 
 Poloc brought her confession of faith to an 
 abrupt end, while Sir Ralph sank down into 
 his chair with a sweet smile upon his face. 
 
 Poloc burst out laughing. " I wonder 
 who it is ? Some strolling vagabond who 
 thinks he is earning a night's shelter, I sup- 
 pose," he said. 
 
 " No shelter for vagabonds here. They 
 would murder us all, or burn the house
 
 LADY POLOC PLAYS A GAME OF POKER. 81 
 
 down, or do some mischief or other. Send 
 him off, Ralph ; give him a lump of bread, 
 and send him off. No shelter for vagabonds 
 here," said Sir Ralph, speaking slowly, and 
 smiling to himself. 
 
 " You mind your own business, Rafe. If 
 he's to go, I'll send him. Happen we are a 
 pretty pack of fools ! " cried Lady Poloc, who 
 would have been very glad at this moment 
 to erase from her memory every trace of the 
 Apostles' Creed. 
 
 All at once a new idea seemed to strike 
 her. 
 
 " If you are going out, Rafe, you had 
 better go at once. I'm going to have com- 
 pany to-night, and I fancy this hullabaloo is 
 a sign they're at hand. I'll go and make 
 sure," she said, snatching up a stick and 
 leaving the kitchen. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 
 
 THE river Scarthin ran through Poloc, and 
 one of the most picturesque walks in the 
 neighbourhood was along the river-side as 
 far as Voe, five or six miles down - stream. 
 About two miles out of Poloc the river 
 washed against a bit of the wall that sur- 
 rounded Muskerry Park, three hundred acres 
 in extent. The deer, donkeys, and black- 
 haired sheep must have been difficult ani- 
 mals to please, if they were not all of them 
 in love with their walled domain. There 
 were patches of fine timber therein, and 
 black rocks, and deep valleys, a long avenue
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 83 
 
 of yews from the gate - house to the hall, 
 winding terraces, undulating banks, a lake 
 along which a couple of swans made their 
 stately progress, two or three ever -merry 
 streamlets, swift-footed, bright-eyed, sweet- 
 tongued, their heads where they issued from 
 their dark homes underground crowned and 
 half-concealed with their hanging glory of 
 moss, and liverwort, and mother -of -thou- 
 sands, and other growths smaller in bulk, 
 less able to assert themselves, but yielding 
 to none in purity of colour and grace of 
 structure. 
 
 The house, which stood in a corner of 
 the park, was an ancient stone structure of 
 considerable size, with round towers, steep 
 slated roofs, notched gables, and three-cor- 
 nered chimneys. On the walls of the west- 
 ern and more modern portion of the build- 
 ing was the date 1621. There was a porte 
 cochere, and a large central court divided in
 
 84 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 two. Queen Elizabeth once slept in this 
 house, and it is recorded that her Majesty 
 remarked to her host, Sir Percival Muskerry, 
 that the court of the house would appear 
 more handsome if divided in the middle. It 
 chanced that a troop of London workmen 
 were at that time employed on the ducal 
 residence some fifteen miles off. That same 
 night, Sir Percival posts off to his Grace, and 
 secures all the workmen, who labour swiftly 
 and silently all night long. In the morning, 
 her Majesty takes another look at the court, 
 and, behold, it is now divided in the middle ! 
 Loyalty was not all lip-service in those days. 
 The grand hall in the interior was designed 
 by Inigo Jones, and the ceiling of the white 
 marble staircase was painted by Rubens, and 
 represented the Apotheosis of William the 
 Silent, with the usual display of allegorical 
 figures. 
 
 Just about the time that the stirring notes
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 85 
 
 of the Scotch bagpipe were sounding at the 
 "Bull i' th' Thorn," a long -limbed pretty 
 girl entered one of the principal living-rooms 
 at Muskerry Hall, put an extra log on the 
 blazing fire, and then seated herself in the 
 most comfortable or least uncomfortable 
 chair she could find, and gave her fingers to 
 wool-work, and her mind to her own sweet 
 fancies. The room was well furnished, and 
 there was a more or less successful attempt 
 at the fashionable derangement of sofas, 
 tables, chairs, and ornaments. There was a 
 small bookcase nearly full of books, there 
 were bronze figures and marble busts, which 
 did their best to impart an air of refinement 
 and intellectuality to the apartment. 
 
 The total effect, however, was scarcely what 
 had been aimed at, and was little less than 
 that of incongruity, startling and laughable. 
 This was due entirely to the walls, which 
 were of a deep-yellow colour, on which were
 
 86 THE BULL r TH' THORN. 
 
 pasted prints with narrow paper borders, and 
 arranged, oddly enough, with an evident 
 view to pleasing the eye. There were no 
 other pictures in the room, save one, and 
 that one bore the name of Guenilda Mus- 
 kerry, and was what most good pictures are 
 not alive. Being alive, she was worth more 
 than all the dead pictures in creation. 
 
 It is the work of painters to magnify their 
 craft. Therefore, like shrewd men, they note 
 Nature's shortcomings in large characters, 
 and succeed in awakening our pity, and 
 almost our contempt, for the Power that is 
 unequal to the task of realising its own ideas, 
 that can strive in a million efforts and only 
 half succeed in one. Meanwhile they, the 
 shrewd men, talk beautifully concerning the 
 idealistic reaches of their craft, and compel 
 us, the simple men, to the worship of Art as 
 the exponent, the interpreter, the golden- 
 tongued mouthpiece, and, if not the author,
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 87 
 
 certainly the finisher of nature. It is all 
 true, of course, and in doubting any particle 
 of it, we should evince an ignorance that 
 would startle even a reviewer. Nevertheless, 
 one cannot help being haunted at times by 
 the absurd idea, that there is in life an ele- 
 ment of beauty often found that altogether 
 transcends any idealistic reach of Art. 
 
 We know that stumbling dreaming Nature 
 totters along on crutches until Art stitches 
 on her wings, and that any thought to the 
 contrary is very wicked and a mark of ill 
 condition. Yet such is the force of natural 
 depravity within us, that we do at times lean 
 to the terrible heresy, that in every genera- 
 tion the best work of the best artist has been 
 absolutely surpassed, in every great principle 
 and fine detail of true artistry, by some living 
 type of beauty. Be that as it may, it is 
 certain that few men could have looked at 
 the face of Guenilda Muskerry, as she sat
 
 88 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 with her hands on her lap, and her eyes 
 resting on the crackling wood-fire, without 
 feeling that there was a certain element in 
 the girl's loveliness that no known art could 
 reproduce, or even adequately suggest. In 
 marble or on canvas, one could get the crafts- 
 man's crafty touches of the ideal ; but sorry 
 substitutes would they have been for that 
 vital and elusive quality that was the char- 
 acteristic and mysterious hall-mark of her 
 beauty. 
 
 Guenilda was a brunette, and therefore 
 on that side of the beauty -line where most 
 of the women famed in history for their 
 charms are to be found. Her complexion 
 was pure and rich, her eyes were of a deep 
 violet colour, and her lips were sweet curves 
 of passion. A creature of sensibility, of 
 warmth, of sympathy, of fidelity was Guen- 
 ilda Muskerry. In her repose of feature 
 and dignity of carriage, she appeared a girl
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 89 
 
 of independent judgment and firm will 
 not lightly to be trifled with or easily won. 
 An enemy would have hesitated as to the 
 wisdom of charging her with being a lover 
 of romance ; yet a friend might have done 
 it, and have hit the mark. 
 
 Life at Muskerry Hall was apt to become 
 monotonous and dull; it was as regular as 
 the clock in the east tower as formal as 
 Gerard himself, the portly red-faced butler. 
 Her uncle, Mr Percival Muskerry, an inferior- 
 looking copy of the great Gerard, was a 
 widower and a social dead -weight. Fond 
 of hunting, of which there was very little to 
 be had, and of shooting, of which there was 
 any amount, he spent his days in the woods 
 and the saddle, and his evenings in his arm- 
 chair asleep. " Percie," his only child, was a 
 jocund young spark of twenty, who did not 
 quite know as yet whether he stood on his 
 head or his heels, and was quite undecided
 
 90 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 whether to develop into a man of pleasure, 
 as his friend " Archie " Crump had made up 
 his mind to become, or into a respectable 
 country gentleman like his father. He 
 winced at the similitude. 
 
 The Man of Pleasure was a fancy figure, 
 novel and attractive ; but his father was 
 a hard reality, solid, commonplace, utterly 
 barren of pleasant suggestions, or of possi- 
 bilities, delicious and piquant. Meanwhile, 
 the young fellow, while running along the 
 parental lines of solid respectability, thought 
 it only fair to give the Man of Pleasure 
 within him an occasional inning in a small 
 way. So it came to pass that he was known 
 to every pretty rustic lass within a radius 
 of ten miles. He was not a vicious fellow, 
 and though he took French leave of many 
 pretty lips, his kisses were not treacherous, 
 only frankly impudent ; and the maidens 
 never cut him for his impudence, or turned
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 91 
 
 a corner to avoid him. He liked his cousin 
 Guen immensely, and in his own mind 
 always pictured her marrying a Judge. 
 This was cruel, but he did really think that 
 her dignity was equal to that of the judicial 
 bench, and that none but a judge would be 
 able to match her. 
 
 Guen found her uncle heavy, and her 
 cousin light. She was an heiress in her own 
 right, and was just turned eighteen, and if 
 she married before she was twenty - one, 
 without the consent of her uncle, she lost 
 one - half of her fortune. Such a girl, it 
 would seem, was admirably placed for be- 
 coming the heroine or the victim of a 
 pretty piece of romance. Heroine or vic- 
 tim, because what to the reader is romance, 
 to the actor is not infrequently a piece of 
 experience that strikes the consciousness 
 with its sternness, painfulness, and misfor- 
 tune. Sundry losses have to be accounted
 
 92 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 for, and divers wounds to be healed, and 
 memory veiled and softened by the haze of 
 time, before the trick of imagination can be 
 wrought, and what was suffered as some- 
 thing akin to grim tragedy can assume 
 the winning shape and absorb the rare 
 dyes of romance. 
 
 The girl came out of her reverie with a 
 start, as the wind brought within hearing 
 the distant wail of a plover. She rose to 
 her feet, and stood listening, then she crossed 
 the room, and, drawing aside the heavy 
 curtains, leaned against a large window that 
 was glazed diagonally, with mahogany wood- 
 work, and folding - doors CL la Franqaise. 
 Her face was a study in that unstudied 
 moment. Glad surprise was in it, and 
 radiant joy, and a woman's love, and a 
 maiden's delicious shame. The cry was 
 repeated three times at short intervals. 
 Then the girl drew back with a little
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 93 
 
 laugh of overflowing gladness, and left the 
 room. In a very little time she returned, 
 and enveloping herself in a rich fur cloak, 
 opened the window and stepped out into 
 the darkness. She made her way to a 
 secluded frescade in the grounds, where 
 was a stone belvedere, and, hard by on a 
 natural hillock, a marble statue of Good 
 Queen Bess on a pedestal of native rock. 
 
 Seated on the pedestal was Ralph Poloc. 
 As Guenilda drew near, Poloc gave a low 
 whistle of recognition, and came forward 
 quickly. 
 
 " My Darling ! " 
 
 "My Love!" 
 
 Had her Majesty's marble ears been open, 
 she might have caught the tender excla- 
 mations of the lovers, for the wind set 
 in that direction. The two met in a thick 
 shade, star-proof at the best of times ; but 
 there was no moon or star or other be-
 
 94 
 
 traying light in the sky to-night. Still it 
 needed no cat's eye to make out that the 
 two walking columns of blackness drew 
 nearer and nearer to each other, until they 
 lost their identity and melted into one 
 compact body of darkness. A pretty sit- 
 uation this for the stony eyes of the 
 great queen to look upon, a lovers' meet- 
 ing under the very nose of her Royal Vir- 
 ginity. But the little gods, who have no 
 dignity to keep up, and while away eter- 
 nity by making sport of time and its 
 creatures, smiled, blinked, and winked at 
 the bristling bit of comedy they had suc- 
 ceeded in patching up. 
 
 Here was the richest girl in the county, 
 and one of the most beautiful in the king- 
 dom, whose hand had been sought by high- 
 born gentlemen whom she rather mali- 
 ciously divided into those of the empty 
 purse and those of the empty head and
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WOKK. 95 
 
 descended from a noble stock, holding stolen 
 interviews with a penniless young man, who 
 drove a disreputable, if sapient, mule, and 
 walked at the plough-tail. The small divini- 
 ties chuckled under their masks, as they 
 always do so often as their impish tricks and 
 mischievous devices prosper ; for above all 
 else, they are lovers of salt and haters of in- 
 sipidity two things in which they find them- 
 selves apart from their very dear friends who 
 people the face of earth. 
 
 It was no wanton or ill-bred strain, no 
 defect of blood or brain, that induced Guen- 
 ilda Muskerry to look with tender eyes upon 
 Ralph Poloc. Whatever construction the 
 members of the clan Empty might be tempted 
 to put upon her conduct, it was certain that 
 for twenty miles round Poloc only one opin- 
 ion would be held by hillsmen and dalesmen 
 to wit, that in giving her love to Ralph 
 Poloc, Guenilda Muskerry had shown that
 
 96 THE BULL l' Tfl' THORN. 
 
 it was really possible for good common-sense 
 to be allied with exceeding great beauty. 
 The Muskerry stock was an old one, and had 
 once been noble ; indeed, its nobility was its 
 weakness, being at the wrong end. It had 
 started noble a bad sign : its nobility 
 marked its sudden rise from Nothingness. 
 Nobility should represent the strong matu- 
 rity and fruit-bearing glory of the human 
 tree, and not the first quick shoot from the 
 soil. But taken at his best, who was a Mus- 
 kerry beside a Poloc ? Four hundred years 
 of local tradition was behind the latter, when 
 the mushroom nobility and being of the 
 former first sprang. Poloc was poor. Were 
 the supercilious members of the clan Empty 
 rich ? When he was driving Nick, or feeding 
 Jeshurun, or milking Peggy, in his coarse, 
 patched, and not over-clean farm - clothes, 
 Poloc did not look exactly the gentleman, 
 and had no desire to. But in his Sunday
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 97 
 
 best suit, rusty though it was with long and 
 faithful service, who dare say that he was 
 not the gentleman from head to heel ? The 
 people of Poloc, when they came across the 
 young fellow in his rough attire, had a sense 
 of shame, would feign not to see him, and 
 practised many little evasions that had their 
 root in delicacy of feeling. But when they 
 saw him in his Sunday best, a warm and 
 happy glow came over them, as though they 
 had just heard good news. They all saw him 
 then ; they went out of their way to let him 
 see that they saw him, and they rendered 
 him every salutation of honour and respect. 
 He was their natural head, the heir of the 
 Polocs, the last of his race : they loved him, 
 they pitied him, they were proud of him ; he 
 bore his misfortune so bravely, so cheerily, 
 and never fell below his natural rank. 
 
 If Guenilda Muskerry had the good sense 
 to put her money out to advantage, she 
 
 VOL. i. G
 
 98 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 would invest it in Master Eafe, and thank 
 heaven for giving her wit and an opportunity 
 of using it. So thought the men and women 
 of the valleys and the hills ; but the small 
 divinities, who would never have gone to so 
 much trouble just to humour the small hu- 
 manities, knew that there were those that 
 thought otherwise. That was where the 
 little gods found their fun. 
 
 " Kalph, you are not serious? You do 
 not mean it ? " said the girl in a grave tone, 
 after they had been talking together some 
 minutes. 
 
 " I am serious, and I mean it. I am going 
 away from home. But that need not inter- 
 fere with our love. You will be true to me, 
 Guen, I know, whether I am far or near." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but Oh, Ealph, why need 
 
 you go ? " 
 
 " For many reasons. I can't stand it any 
 longer I mean the life I have to lead. And
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 99 
 
 why should I ? Father is broken down, 
 broken in spirit. He will never lift himself 
 up ; he hasn't got stamina enough left in 
 him. Here am I, chock - full of strength, 
 leading the life of a day-labourer, and yet 
 the wide world is open to me. For seven 
 hundred years the Polocs gathered and held ; 
 it took them so long to grow the ' one great 
 Fool of the Family, which speaks well, I think, 
 for their average wisdom. But because one 
 man broke them, must they remain for ever 
 broken ? Guen, it is my duty to ^do all that 
 a man in honour and honesty may to rebuild 
 our broken house. As you know, mother 
 has always set her face against it hitherto, 
 but she must yield now or be overridden," 
 said Poloc, with the fluency that never fails 
 to come with strong feeling. 
 
 Guenilda liked his stout courage ; and the 
 firm resolve to do and dare all for the honour 
 of his name, struck upon her like a sudden
 
 100 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 burst of martial music. Her heart had told 
 her again and again that her lover was not 
 lacking the invincible quality that became 
 his race ; that some day he would rise up and 
 say to her, I must go and rebuild the house 
 of my fathers. She had waited silently and 
 full of faith, and now the hour had come and 
 the very words, almost. The girl trembled 
 with excitement at his words, and her heart 
 grew big with proud love. At the same 
 time, she was not at all prepared to let him 
 go from her, though his mission was to make 
 his fortune and refurbish his tarnished fame. 
 
 She put her arms round his neck and 
 kissed him, murmuring 
 
 " My brave love, my brave love ! " 
 
 Then, as she disengaged herself, she said, 
 with the inconsistency of her delightful 
 sex 
 
 " But, Ealph, why should you go away at 
 all ? There is no need. We shall "
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 101 
 
 She checked herself for a moment, and 
 then she said almost in a whisper, while a 
 deep blush spent itself unseen in the dark- 
 ness upon her face 
 
 " Cannot you wait three years ? You will 
 have enough then, Ralph, to do all you 
 wish." 
 
 " Don't ask me, Guen. Three months 
 would be more than enough, after what has 
 occurred. Besides, think what I might be 
 able to do in three years. I do not want 
 people to say that I married you for your 
 money." 
 
 The girl made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 "What will it matter to us what people 
 say ? None would utter such a wretched 
 thought except those, perhaps, who are pre- 
 pared to act upon it. If you had gone two 
 or three years ago " 
 
 " Thank God, I did not ! I should never 
 have known you then, sweetheart."
 
 102 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 " And now you have me, you want to 
 leave me." 
 
 " Listen, Guen. This afternoon Squire 
 Crump was at the ' Bull i' th' Thorn.' I 
 wonder could you guess what he wanted ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I could not. I think he 
 means well, but he is a low-bred man." 
 
 " Yes ; he is not such a good fellow as his 
 son, at any rate." 
 
 "You are perhaps right, love. But Mr 
 Archibald is not a good man, I am sure. I 
 always shudder when he comes near me. 
 Percie thinks a good deal of him, I am 
 sorry to say. But Mr Crump, what did he 
 want ? " 
 
 " He had it in his mind to do me a good 
 turn, I suppose, and so he offered me a 
 situation at the Hall as as his groom." 
 
 "Kalph, is that true?" 
 
 "Quite true." 
 
 " Oh, what an insult ! You, a Poloc,
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 103 
 
 groom at Poloc Hall ! Groom to Mr Crump ! 
 How dare he ! I will cut him dead for his 
 insolence. Kalph Poloc, what did you say 
 to him ? " 
 
 "Well, I am glad I had to say nothing. 
 I was not in at the time ; I was ploughing. 
 He left word with mother." 
 
 "What did your mother say?" 
 
 "I don't quite know; I have only heard 
 of it through father yet. But I fancy she 
 thanked him." 
 
 " Thanked him ! Oh, Kalph ! " 
 
 " I shall probably hear about it in the 
 morning. You see what it has come to, 
 Guen. Do you think I could stand three 
 years more of it ? " 
 
 She came and nestled close to him, mur- 
 muring, " My poor boy, my poor brave boy." 
 
 Continued Poloc, in a low voice, " There 
 are other things worse than that to bear." 
 
 " Not worse, Ralph, surely ? "
 
 104 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 " Yes, worse." He paused. 
 
 " Do you mind telling me, dearest ? " 
 
 " Yes. I cannot tell you, Guen. For one 
 thing, however, I will be no party to what I 
 think is a disgrace to my name. But there ! 
 you do not know what I mean, and I cannot 
 tell you. If you were at the ' Bull i' th' 
 Thorn' just now, perhaps you would know." 
 
 For some little time neither of the two 
 spoke, then Poloc said 
 
 " I am sorry to say that mother and I had 
 a bit of a quarrel this evening. She is very 
 passionate, and loses control of herself when 
 she is angered. But I would not go through 
 the same experience again not for my right 
 hand." 
 
 " Oh, it's very, very sad ! My heart bleeds 
 for you, my love. But where could you go ? 
 What could you do ? " exclaimed Guenilda. 
 
 " I could at least enlist, and go to Spain." 
 
 "And get killed."
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 105 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 " And not make your fortune after all." 
 
 " What better fortune could I have ? " 
 
 Poloc spoke bitterly, for his spirit was 
 heavy with gloom. 
 
 " Is death preferable to life ? " 
 
 " I sometimes think it is." 
 
 " When I am part of life ? " 
 
 " Ah, but you are not mine, love ! I may 
 be dead, dead, long before you can be mine," 
 exclaimed Poloc, with passionate energy. 
 
 "You are gloomy to-night, my love. You 
 are wounded in spirit, you are suffering. 
 But you must not be bitter, you must not be 
 hopeless. Time will soon fly, dearest, and 
 then " 
 
 " Ha ! then, then it would be heaven ! By 
 the same token, I look for hell. Guen, my 
 love is steady as the stars ; I believe yours 
 is the same. And yet, do you know, I feel 
 sometimes I feel now, now while your dear
 
 106 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 form is held in my arms, that I shall never 
 call you my own. Not love will fail us, but 
 the malicious demon that people call Good 
 Fortune. Circumstances, Guen, are the 
 stones that build up the walls, the prison- 
 walls of destiny. Something tells me they 
 will rise up between us and keep us apart. 
 I will live till then, and fight the demon ; 
 afterwards I will die, cursing him." 
 
 Shiver after shiver ran through Guenilda 
 as she listened to her lover's sombre words. 
 But she knew it was only his trouble that 
 was upon him, and her duty was to cheer 
 him. Therefore she kissed him, and said, 
 laughing 
 
 " I would not give sixpence for you as a 
 prophet, sweetheart." 
 
 She hesitated a moment before she said 
 
 "Ralph, cannot I do something for you? 
 something that will keep you from leaving 
 me?"
 
 THE LITTLE GODS AT WORK. 107 
 
 " No, love ; I must go." 
 
 " Think, my love ; I can do a great deal 
 if I try. Cannot I do anything to keep 
 you ? " 
 
 " Kiss me." 
 
 She kissed him. Then he gave a quick 
 laugh and said 
 
 ' ' I know one thing you could do to keep 
 me with you." 
 
 " What, love ? " 
 
 " Go with me to Gretna Green." 
 
 " You naughty, wicked fellow ! " 
 
 Then with a burning face and a palpitating 
 heart, she disengaged herself and ran away, 
 leaving him all alone.
 
 108 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. 
 
 WHEN Lady Poloc re-entered the kitchen, 
 she found it empty, both husband and son 
 having disappeared. Poloc was on his way 
 to Muskerry Hall, and Sir Ealph had quiet- 
 ly stowed himself away in bed, where he 
 covered his head with a blanket to shut 
 out all sound, and proceeded to salve his 
 conscience with that excellently good specific 
 a sound sleep. Behind her ladyship came 
 a rough country - looking fellow, with a 
 bagpipe in his arms, and at his heels a 
 pure -bred bull -dog. The man looked at 
 the nickering candle, at the handful of fire
 
 THE COMING OF THE EEEVERS. 109 
 
 in the small grate, at his dog, and at Lady 
 Pploc. There was nothing else recogniz- 
 able, in the darkness that reigned in the 
 room. The man sighed deeply. Then, 
 thinking better of it, he swore under his 
 breath. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " enquired her 
 ladyship, with a. snap of her jaws that 
 made the piper think for a moment his 
 bull-dog had bitten him. 
 
 "I was just remarking to myself what a 
 lively place for a dance this looks. As 
 warm as a well, and as light as a cave. 
 Once in, the order of the day is, there you 
 stop till daylight doth appear, or take the 
 risk of falling down the cellar-steps, if you 
 try to find the door. Won't the boys just 
 howl for joy ! " 
 
 And pressing his bagpipe, there came forth 
 a demoniacal howl that would have struck 
 a pack of hungry wolves with despair.
 
 110 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 No lupous throat was ever equal to such 
 an echo of inferno. Cried her ladyship, 
 sharply 
 
 "Young man, what's your name, if you've 
 got one ? " 
 
 " I'm called Jake, the piper of Pearth- 
 wick," answered the man. 
 
 "I don't recollect of seeing you before 
 at the ' Bull i' th' Thorn.' " 
 
 "For a very good reason. It's the first 
 time I ever put my eyes on the place. 
 Though I've heard about it often enough 
 from the boys." 
 
 "I thought as much. Do you know 
 who I am?" 
 
 " I reckon you be Mrs Lady Poloc ? " 
 
 Her ladyship stepped to the fireplace, and, 
 picking up the poker, the same with which 
 she had assailed Poloc, came and held it 
 close to the man's face, and said 
 
 " See this ? What is it ? "
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. Ill 
 
 " Gad ! I should call it a poker," answered 
 the man, laughing a little nervously. 
 
 He looked round, as if to see how far he 
 was from the door; then he began to back 
 slowly. 
 
 " Where are you going to ? Stand still 
 and listen to me. Ye are right. I'm Lady 
 Poloc, and this bit of iron is a poker. And 
 1 warn ye, Jake, piper of Pearthwick, that 
 if ye make another noise like that ye've 
 just made, or play any of your tricks in 
 my house, 111 brain ye as I would a mad 
 dog. Ye understand ? " she cried, giving 
 the poker a fine flourish above her head. 
 
 " Yes, your ladyship, yes ; and may God 
 forgie me for ever venturing within a 
 hundred miles of your ladyship's anger ! " 
 stammered Jake, now thoroughly appalled. 
 
 In the semi - darkness, the figure of the 
 woman seemed colossal and terrific to him. 
 
 " All right ; then we'll be friends. If
 
 112 THE BULL l' TH* THOEN. 
 
 the room's dark, it must be lighted. If it's 
 cold, it must be warmed. The candles are 
 where I put them, and the wood is there 
 by the grate," said her ladyship, pointing 
 to a part of the room that was buried in 
 darkness. 
 
 " The Lord have mercy on me ! but I'm 
 going blind, sure. I can see nought of a 
 grate or anything else, save the light of 
 your ladyship's beautiful eyes." 
 
 Her ladyship gave a sudden flourish of 
 the poker. With a groan, plump down on 
 his knees went the piper of Pearthwick. 
 
 " Mercy, mercy ! " he gasped, in terrified 
 accents. Even the bull-dog had fled with 
 a howl and hid himself in the dark. Where- 
 upon her ladyship laughed aloud, and said 
 
 "Well, if ye don't wear the white feather 
 as bravely as a goose, I'm out o' my reck- 
 oning. Put the poker about ye, piper o' 
 Pearthwick! Fight a butterfly with a
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. 113 
 
 hammer! Get up, or I'll prod ye with 
 the toasting-fork!" 
 
 The piper got on to his feet, thinking 
 within himself that death was preferable to 
 life. It seemed like a hideous nightmare. 
 For oddly enough, Jake, the piper of Pearth- 
 wick, had a reputation for courage, and that 
 among men who, whatever may have been 
 their failings, were brave enough in all con- 
 science. He had been in conflict with his 
 Majesty's troops, officers of the law, and 
 revenue officials more than once, in the 
 course of a chequered career. He had 
 fought like a true Briton and never flinched ; 
 yet here he was, charged with wearing the 
 white feather, and threatened with the 
 toasting-fork, by a woman. And to crown 
 all, the piper felt that he was really mortally 
 frightened. How to account for it he did 
 not know, unless it was due to the darkness 
 of the vast cave-like kitchen, and the furious 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 THE BULL 1 TH THORN. 
 
 aspect of the strange woman, of whom he 
 had heard many extraordinary stories told. 
 He would have scouted as ridiculous the 
 suggestion that the heavy drinking-bout in 
 which he had recently taken part, had any 
 bearing upon the demoralized state of his 
 nerves. 
 
 Piloted by her ladyship, candle in hand, 
 the piper at length hove in sight of the 
 huge fireplace and the barrow-loads of logs. 
 
 " There, piper o' Pearthwick, that's the 
 
 hearth, and don't be scared, man. Them 
 
 be only logs of wood. They won't bite, 
 though happen they'll burn. D'ye think 
 now ye could light a fire, if ye tried?" 
 said her ladyship, in a cutting tone. 
 
 " I'm willing to try," answered the piper, 
 humbly enough, but with his inside hot 
 with smothered rage. 
 
 " And yell not be frightened ? You see, 
 I've got to leave ye a few minutes, and go
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. 115 
 
 t'other side of the room. But if ye call 
 I shall hear ye." 
 
 At which the piper groaned in spirit, and 
 made a desperate plunge among the logs, 
 feeling that his only hope lay in a blazing 
 fire. When once the bright flames began 
 leaping up the chimney, the cold would 
 vanish, and the blackness that seemed to 
 choke him, and the grimness of the unseen, 
 and the grisly and unintelligible fear that 
 held him like the claws of an invisible 
 monster. 
 
 Meanwhile, from half-a-dozen different 
 points of the compass, small bands of men 
 were crossing Redstag moor ; they were 
 slowly converging towards one spot, and 
 their faces were turned towards the "Bull 
 i' th' Thorn." To their thinking, it was 
 a grand night, for the sky was a mass of 
 black cloud, and a piercing cold wind went 
 tearing over the ground, filling the night
 
 116 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 with sad noises, with wailings and meanings. 
 Whoso was abroad that night had urgent 
 business, they were sure : for honest folk 
 and not o'er-brave, there would be no place 
 like the chimney-corner or the blankets. 
 
 Some miles back, in secluded hollows and 
 glens, under the shelter of rocks and woods, 
 our travellers had left their women-folk and 
 children, together with their gipsy caravans, 
 pedlars' carts and tents, in the safe keeping 
 of their savage dogs. They had come scores 
 and scores of miles, some from the far north 
 and some from the far south ; and of such 
 punctual habits were these roving gentry, 
 that, though they had not seen each other 
 for a twelvemonth, they were all at the 
 same hour within a few miles of their meet- 
 ing-place. Though not star-gazers, they 
 were to a man sky- watchers ; and had it 
 been a clear night, not one of them would 
 have been found within a dozen miles of the
 
 THE COMING OP THE REEVERS. ll 
 
 "Bull i' th' Thorn." What were they? 
 Speaking the dialect of Poloc, her ladyship 
 knew them as the Reevers. In daylight 
 and to the common eye, they were folk 
 that gathered to themselves something of 
 the picturesque. 
 
 The play of the national imagination is 
 often very odd, and forms a most singular 
 study. This is the case, for instance, in 
 regard of Pedlars and Gipsies. How comes 
 it that for an English eye the very words 
 "Pedlar" and "Gipsy" are steeped in the 
 magic colours of romance? How comes it 
 that the very syllables awake in an English 
 ear a melody all their own, notes of the 
 mysterious chord that voices the old, old 
 sacred music of our childhood? There is 
 something odd in this quaint, irrational, 
 semi -affectionate play of the national .im- 
 agination. 
 
 In daylight and to the common eye,
 
 118 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 some of the Reevers were gipsies, and others 
 were pedlars. The former sold baskets and 
 clothes -pegs, told you a good fortune for 
 a sixpence and a better for a shilling, had 
 remedies for most complaints and dispensed 
 them for a consideration, doctored sick 
 horses, bought sorry ones, and stole but 
 there ! such general benefactors of mankind 
 could afford to overlook the prejudices of 
 the incurably stupid and the slanders of the 
 wantonly malicious. Nor did the pedlars es- 
 cape suspicion and detraction ; but, for some 
 occult reason, the women were their friends 
 and stood up for them, and so the vilifica- 
 tion of the men was so much wasted breath. 
 In village, hamlet, wayside cottage, and 
 lonely farmhouse, the pedlar was always sure 
 of a warm welcome and a good night's lodg- 
 ing. At the opening of his wonderful pack, 
 cheeks flushed, eyes sparkled, fingers itched, 
 loaves burned, pots boiled dry, irons cooled,
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. 119 
 
 churns ceased to revolve, and for a while the 
 ordinary laws of rustic economy were sus- 
 pended. As star from star, so pack differed 
 from pack : some held nothing but the cheap 
 enchantments of mock jewels, coloured beads, 
 tawdry trinkets, gaudy ribbons, love-ditties 
 whose sentiments were superior to the limita- 
 tions of grammar, and survived the crudest 
 type and coarsest paper. But in other packs 
 there was deeper guile, more alluring wili- 
 ness ; they appealed to a finer taste and a 
 fuller stocking. They held beautiful wools, 
 and rich silks, and exquisite laces, and gold 
 and silver ornaments, and but this was 
 only for special customers whose discretion 
 could be relied upon a few bottles of brandy 
 from the South coast, and a few pounds of 
 tea from the East coast, at a price that left 
 no doubt that they were imported under 
 special risk and were sold as a special 
 favour.
 
 120 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 The wanderers came and went, and on the 
 line of their march the flocks and herds and 
 poultry suffered no sudden diminution. This 
 was singular. It was yet more singular that 
 on the right and the left, at an equal dis- 
 tance of about ten miles from their line of 
 march, the poultry vanished in a startling 
 manner ; hens and cockerels with established 
 reputations, who had never manifested any 
 levity of disposition, or desire to gad about 
 and wander to and fro in search of dangerous 
 novelty these would suddenly disappear 
 from home, and their sad friends never more 
 heard tidings of their whereabouts. 
 
 This was bad enough, but there was worse 
 to follow ; for in search of the errant fowl 
 there went a colt, a gelding, or a mare, and 
 their fate also became buried in mystery. 
 What is one man's loss is another man's gain : 
 by some strange chance it usually happened 
 that the lost animals found their way to
 
 THE COMING OF THE KEEPERS. 121 
 
 the wanderers, who received them kindly, 
 asked no questions, and adopted them as 
 their own. Their new masters very thought- 
 fully allowed them to rest all day long in 
 woods and hollows, in lonely lanes and out- 
 of-the-way places; while at night they 
 travelled quickly across country. 
 
 Once a-year the nomads from the South 
 met, by good fortune, their brethren from 
 the North. They were an affectionate race, 
 and showed their delight at meeting with 
 one another by making a wholesale exchange 
 of their dear pets, the unfortunate animals 
 that had come into their possession. Then 
 each band turned on its tracks and returned 
 home, but not by the way it had come : they 
 were a people who liked change of scenery. 
 It was an interesting game these wanderers 
 were playing, albeit a little risky ; the odds 
 against them were heavy, and when one of 
 them happened to lose, he paid his forfeit
 
 122 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 with his life. The penalty for horse-stealing 
 was death. But men were rem'arkably cheap 
 at that time, a man's life being still ap- 
 praised at five shillings. 
 
 Along the moor came the groups of Reevers 
 at a trot. The leader of each band, mounted 
 on horseback, rode at the head, with a string 
 of horses behind him fastened together neck 
 and tail ; another horseman brought up the 
 rear. At some distance from the group, one 
 in front and the other behind, rode two men 
 whose duty it was to detect danger and pre- 
 vent surprise. After some few years of suc- 
 cessful work, their existence as an organized 
 band of horse-stealers had become known to 
 the authorities, who, so far, had been unsuc- 
 cessful in their endeavour to disperse or cap- 
 ture them. But there is an instinct in such 
 matters ; and the Reevers knew well enough 
 that the end of, at least, their corporate exist- 
 ence was drawing nearer and nearer. They
 
 THE COMING OF THE REEVERS. 123 
 
 were liable at any moment to find themselves 
 face to face, not only with armed officers of 
 the law, but with a troop of dragoons. 
 
 As a rendezvous and place of exchange, 
 the " Bull i' th' Thorn," from its size, situa- 
 tion, and extensive stabling accommodation, 
 was exactly suited to the requirements of 
 the Reevers ; while the peculiar character of 
 its occupants was also in their favour. The 
 Reevers came late at night and departed 
 at daydawn, leaving hardly a trace behind 
 them. They posted watchers to guard every 
 approach to the house, and except from 
 treachery and accident, they had nothing to 
 fear. It was obviously to their advantage 
 to be generous with Lady Poloc, and so far 
 there had been none but honeyed words on 
 both sides. But for several years now Poloc 
 had kicked at the arrangement ; indeed he 
 had kicked the moment he discovered the 
 true character of the jolly fellows, who came
 
 124 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 and went like spirits of the night, and con- 
 cerning whom his mother strictly forbade 
 him speaking a word with any one. 
 
 After their last visit, Poloc had mani- 
 fested so much obstinacy and prejudice that 
 Lady Poloc had half promised to have 
 nothing more to do with them. But when 
 the time came round, seeing that her purse 
 had fallen low, her ladyship's spirit rose 
 high, and she received the avant-courier of 
 the Eeevers with defiant delight. She was 
 glad now that Poloc was out of the way ; 
 perhaps her desire to get him out of the 
 way had something to do with her danger- 
 ous game at poker. Her only hope just now 
 was, that he would not return home until her 
 company had retired for the night. 
 
 It was a full hour after the arrival of the 
 piper before the first group of Keevers rode 
 quietly into the grass-grown courtyard. They 
 were part of the Northern division, and con-
 
 THE COMING OF THE EEEVERS. 125 
 
 sisted of six men with ten horses. Silently 
 and quickly, lighted by a covered lantern, they 
 stabled and fed their animals; they posted 
 one sentinel, and then went into the house. 
 Another hour elapsed, and then the sen- 
 tinel, who was leaning against the side of 
 the house facing the road, gave a quick 
 start, as out of the darkness and in the 
 teeth of the wind which prevented him 
 from hearing the slightest sound of their 
 coming came a number of men on horse- 
 back. He was so startled that for a moment 
 or two he saw distinctly the gleam of naked 
 swords and the red uniform of soldiers. 
 Then he heard a voice that he knew, and 
 the military vision died out of his brain in 
 a flash, and he made out dimly the less 
 heroic figures of his friends. There were 
 five men and seven horses in this second 
 band, and they hailed from the South : they, 
 also, stabled their horses, quickly and in
 
 126 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 silence, placed a sentinel, and entered the 
 house. Within the next half -hour there 
 were four more arrivals. The first consisted 
 of three men and eight horses, the second 
 of four men and four horses, the third of 
 seven men and twelve horses, and the fourth 
 of two men and six horses. 
 
 Forty -seven horses were in the stables, 
 six men were on guard, and twenty -two 
 men were in the kitchen, including the 
 piper. Her ladyship had, in making up her 
 calculations, classed the piper in rough irony 
 as only half a man ; but when she had taken 
 the measure of his appetite, she mentally 
 put him down as a man and a half, and went 
 to the trouble to inform him in a half voice 
 that he ate more than his head was worth. 
 The night was pretty well on, when her lady- 
 ship called out from the far end of the room 
 
 " I'd like to know if ye're all here ? If not, 
 how many more of your tribe d'ye look for ? "
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DICK G' TH' BORDER. 
 
 THE buzz of voices suddenly ceased. Then a 
 tall big-boned man, carrying a lot of flesh, 
 with a mild moon face, rose to his feet in the 
 middle of the room and looked about him, 
 with an air of quiet surprise. He was the 
 leader of the gang, and was known as 
 Captain Silas ; his voice was soft as butter 
 in midsummer, his fist was like a knob of 
 steel, his eyes were dreamy as a love-sick 
 maiden's, and he had the reputation of a 
 bandit. 
 
 " I think we're all here except Dick o' 
 th' Border and Drover Tim. Do anybody
 
 128 THE" BULL i' TH' THORN. 
 
 know ought o' them ? " said Captain Silas, 
 his voice sounding mild and melodious com- 
 pared with her ladyship's strident tones. 
 
 For a moment or two dead silence fol- 
 lowed the enquiry; then a man who was 
 sitting at the massive old table under the 
 window, eating ham and eggs, got on to his 
 feet, and, pulling his forelock, said 
 
 " Eea, Cap'n, aw do." He was one of the 
 two last -comers, and his mate having lost 
 the toss, was outside keeping guard. 
 
 "Well, York Jerry, and what is it?" en- 
 quired the Captain. 
 
 " It's a caas o' curran' cake an' slow walk- 
 in' this time, Cap'n," answered York Jerry, 
 rubbing the back of his hand across his 
 mouth ; then, with a touch of sentiment, he 
 brought the back of his hand across both his 
 eyes. A noise, half grunt and half groan, 
 filled the room, at his words. The company 
 seemed deeply interested, if not moved, and
 
 DICK TH BORDER. 129 
 
 all eyes were fixed upon the speaker. With 
 a beautiful smile of simple good -nature ir- 
 radiating his red face, Captain Silas put one 
 foot on his chair, and, resting his head in his 
 hand and his elbow on his knee, said 
 
 " Let us know all about it, York Jerry, 
 and dunno waste words if ye can help it." 
 
 " Aw'll try, Cap'n." 
 
 " And, York Jerry, do your best to put it 
 into English ; remembering as how th' bulk 
 on us are Englishmen, and dunno under- 
 stand your foreign Yorkshire lingo," ex- 
 plained Captain Silas, sweetly. 
 
 Left to his own dialect, York Jerry would 
 have been equal to a graphic narrative, but 
 the necessity of speaking " English " sadly 
 hampered him ; he had to be attending to his 
 tongue, and frittering away his energy on vo- 
 cables, instead of devoting himself simply to 
 his ideas and the play of his imagination. 
 
 " Aw'll try, Cap'n," he said, solemnly and 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 with a sense of sudden and overwhelming 
 responsibility. 
 
 "Twelve neets sen we fun oursen camped 
 for the neet in a snug hoil in a hill not a 
 hundert miles from Lancaster. Ther were 
 four on us Dick o' th' Border, Drover 
 Tim, misen, an' Kedcooat Mat who's outside 
 keepin' gaurd now. We'd ten as gooid hosses 
 as ta iver put e'es on. We were in a kind o' 
 gullet in th' hillside, with a narrow entry an' 
 a caave at t'other end. We thowt it wor 
 th' snuggest hoil we'd iver been in, and safe 
 as a preeson ; haiver, it wornt. We sot ther 
 at th' maath o' th' caave smoakin' an' talkin', 
 when ov a suddin Drover Tim, who wor 
 keepin' gaurd, come rushin' in wi' th' noos 
 hot i' th' maath 'at th' officers were on us. 
 We were nawther blind nor gaumless, an' we 
 felt it wor a kind o' trap we were in. We 
 got our peestols ready, an' our clubs. Soon 
 ther coom a saand o' somedy abaat th' entry.
 
 DICK 0' TH' BOEDER. 131 
 
 Cries Dick o' th' Border, ' Hallo, ther ! spaik 
 an' say who tha art, or aw'll fire on ta.' 
 Then a mon bawled out, ' We're constables, 
 and we want one Eichard Dearling, other- 
 wise known as Dick o' th' Border. We have 
 a warrant for his arrest on a charge of horse- 
 stealing. We know how many there are of 
 you. You are only four, and we are twelve. 
 Resistance is useless. Surrender in the 
 King's name ! ' Dick o' th' Border, wi' a 
 laugh, ' Whear art ta, me boy ? ' ' We are 
 here outside.' ' Well, nah, coom thi ways 
 in, an' have a smoak.' ' We are coming, with 
 fixed bayonets.' ' Oh, aw didn't ax ta to 
 bring th' prods along. Keep back ther ! As 
 
 tha loves thisen, keep back or ' Bang ! 
 
 bang ! went Dick o' th' Border's pistols, an' 
 one o' them constable fellies gave a yell, and 
 fell on his face, and happen he niver gate up 
 agean. T'others drew back. Said Dick o' 
 th' Border, loadin' his peestols, ' Boys, we're
 
 132 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 in for fun nah.' Says aw, ' Blest if aw see 
 mich fun in bein' cooped up in a rat-trap 
 like this.' Says Dick o' th' Border, ' York 
 Jerry, tha art nowt but a gurt gaumless 
 fooil ! Nubbut it's reight to add, tha fayther 
 wor a fooil afore tha wor born.' Aw thowt 
 a while, keepin' my tongue quiet wol aw 
 wor primed wi' an answer ; then aw re- 
 marked, ' Dick o' th ' Border, tha will find it 
 writ in Holy Bible thiswise Birds of a 
 feather flock together.' Aw had him ther ; 
 he wor dumb, an' ony laufed hard. Poor 
 mon, it wor th' last bit o' Scriptur he wor 
 iver to hear. Soon he said, ' Lads, we mun 
 get out o' this in no time. Yo'll have to 
 scrammel up th' chimley.' We knowed 
 what that meant, an' Drover Tim wor a gurt 
 fat felly. ' Awst niver get through,' he 
 growled, pooling a faaler mug nor iver I see 
 afore. Said Dick o' th' Border, ' Lads, awm 
 goin' aght o' this hoil th' way aw coom in,
 
 DICK 0* TH' BORDER. 133 
 
 constables or nah constables. Th' cream- 
 coloured mare carried me in, an' shoo'll have 
 to carry me out. In Lundun town, shoo 
 will bring me fifty pounds to a penny.' 
 When he'd said soa, he gate up an' put a 
 bridle on th' cream - coloured mare, an' a 
 couple o' surcingles. Yo mind he wor a 
 puny little felly, not more than five foot five, 
 but game ! Lord, but he wor game ! Well, 
 he gate under th' mare's belly, stuck his feet 
 in one surcingle an' his hands in t'other, an' 
 ligged reight up snug an' teet ageanst th' 
 animal's body. ' Nah, lads,' he said, ' looase 
 all th' bosses an' start 'em gooing like mad, 
 two at a time, an' then mak for th' chimley ; 
 an' God help ta.' An' soa we did. Th' cream- 
 coloured mare, wi' Dick o' th' Border sticken 
 like glue to her belly, went aght at foo gallop. 
 Then we took to th' chimley, Redcooat Mat 
 first, misen next, an' Drover Tim laast. Poor 
 felly ! ' Awst niver get through,' he said, an'
 
 134 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 he wor reight. He gate stuck in th' chimley, 
 an' th' constables nabbed him. As for Dick 
 o' th' Border, he wor nigh gettin' away clear, 
 but he didna ; they spied him in th' nick 
 o' time, an' they shot him and th' mare daan 
 deead. Aw've nowt more to tell ta, Cap'n." 
 
 York Jerry sat down and resumed opera- 
 tions upon the ham and eggs. The tension 
 of his auditors was relaxed, and a sound like 
 a great sigh note of regret and relief 
 filled the room. 
 
 Captain Silas stood erect, and, addressing 
 her ladyship, said, " We're all here, it seems, 
 Lady Poloc." Then, with a benevolent smile 
 upon his face and in softest tones, he said, 
 "York Jerry, Dick o' th' Border had he 
 wife or children ? " 
 
 " Noa, Cap'n, none." 
 
 " Drover Tim had no wife, I know ; but 
 he had a wench. Any more does anybody 
 know ? " There was no response. " A
 
 DICK 0' TH' BORDER. 135 
 
 pound apiece for Drover Tim's little wench, 
 mates. Here's the bank," said Captain 
 Silas, planking down a golden sovereign 
 on the table at which he was sitting. 
 
 One by one the Reevers came forward and 
 deposited their pound. The Captain scooped 
 the coins into a heap, which he covered with 
 his soft felt hat. 
 
 Then he said, " Drover Tim mustna hang 
 for want of a lawyer's fee. And if the 
 worst comes to the worst, he must have 
 friends to claim his body, and a decent 
 funeral ; no cutting up by the doctors, 
 and no body - snatching if watching will 
 hinder it. Mates, a pound apiece for Drover 
 Tim's legal expenses, and other other items. 
 Here's the bank." 
 
 Down went another sovereign, and again 
 the Reevers came up to the scratch. 
 
 "Who's to look after the paying out of 
 this money ? " enquired the Captain.
 
 136 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 " Cap'n Silas," came simultaneously from 
 every throat. 
 
 " S-shh ! not so loud, mates. Captain Silas 
 is willing, though it's a ticklish job. That's 
 all the business just now, mates." 
 
 Captain Silas sat down, and drawing a 
 greasy pack of cards from his waistcoat- 
 pocket, began to shuffle them, calling in his 
 soft way to three of his companions to come 
 and have a rubber at whist. A strange 
 man was this Captain Silas mild as milk, 
 soft as a ripe peach, gentle as a lap-dog, a 
 total stranger to fear, wily as a panther, and 
 in wrath or strife unrelenting and terrible : 
 the wanderers loved him, trusted him, feared 
 him, and obeyed him blindly. 
 
 The piper o' Pearthwick sat in a corner, on 
 a three-cornered stool, with his back against 
 the wall. His pipes lay on the sanded flag- 
 paved floor beside him, within reach of his 
 right hand. On the floor, to his left, stood a
 
 DICK Q' TH 1 BOEDER. 137 
 
 large earthenware mug with two brown ears, 
 filled with beer. He was smoking slowly 
 from a long -stemmed clay -pipe, and deep 
 speculation was in his eyes. He thought of 
 the darkness that had almost choked him ; 
 how it had seemed like being in a huge 
 cave of unknown extent, that made his voice 
 sound hollow, and drowned his words in the 
 depth of silence. He thought of that incar- 
 nate fury of a woman, colossal in the dark- 
 ness, with a voice of rasping iron, describing 
 circles above his head with a poker. Even 
 the redoubtable Pilcher, dog of dogs, at 
 present jumping in his sleep under his 
 master's seat, had surrendered for once to 
 the spectre of terror and fled howling, 
 leaving his master to shift for himself. 
 Was it real, or was it only a touch of 
 nightmare ? It seemed incredible that 
 this was the same room, and that she 
 was the same woman, and that he was
 
 138 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 the same man, and that Pilcher was the 
 same Pilcher. 
 
 The room was now a little world of heat 
 and light and life. Rings of light from a 
 dozen candles intersected one another and 
 made a brilliant circular fence, covered with 
 radiant spikes, which crowded the darkness 
 into nooks and corners, among the heavy 
 beams of the ceiling, behind the wooden 
 settle by the open hearth, and into the 
 small wide passage, out of which ran the 
 stairs to the rooms above and the steps to 
 the cellars below. 
 
 There were fire-dogs on the hearth, with 
 queer-looking standards with dragons' heads 
 and claws ; but these were for ornament, not 
 use, as the fire was built on the hearthstone. 
 Already there was a great pile of wood-ash, 
 the top of which was all aglow. Three or 
 four large logs were burning merrily, hiss- 
 ing, crackling, shooting out red splinters into
 
 DICK 0' TH' BORDER. 139 
 
 the room, and leaping high up the wide 
 chimney in great streaks of coloured flame, 
 white, yellow, crimson, blue. The old panel- 
 ling, dark with age, which was carried right 
 round the room to the height of Captain 
 Silas, caught the ruddy glare of the fire and 
 shone warm and bright. 
 
 In addition to the heavy table, which was 
 a fixture and ran the width of the room, and 
 the bench beside it under the window, which 
 was also a fixture, there was the high-backed 
 settle on the far side of the fireplace, while 
 three or four small round tables and a dozen 
 rush-bottomed chairs were scattered about 
 the room. Opposite the blazing hearth was 
 the small fireplace of daily use, and beside it 
 stood the empty grandfather's chair, with 
 high back and sides and roof. This was 
 Sir Ealph's seat, and no Reever was dis- 
 respectful enough to occupy it. In Sir 
 Ralph's absence, the black cat kept the seat
 
 140 THE BULL l' TH' THORN". 
 
 warm for him, and eyed Pilcher curiously. 
 A circular salt-box hung on one side of the 
 fireplace, and a coffee-mill on the other. 
 Behind the settee hung a skeleton clock with 
 a brass face, and an open pendulum that 
 swung lazily, with a tick like the blow of a 
 hammer. At the far end of the room was 
 an old worm-eaten dresser, covered just now 
 with plates, dishes, jugs, loaves of bread, 
 part of a flitch of bacon, and the knuckle- 
 ends of two hams ; above was a rack for 
 crockery. 
 
 Beside the dresser, on a rough wooden 
 stand, were two small kegs of beer and an 
 anker of brandy : in the cellar, hidden away 
 somewhere from sight, were two like kegs 
 of beer and an anker of brandy. These were 
 little drink-offerings which the Eeevers knew 
 her ladyship would not despise, any more 
 than she did a case of contraband tea.
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 
 
 THE Reevers themselves drank, not heavily 
 but steadily ; some were thinking, some 
 sleeping, some talking in low tones, some 
 playing games at cards, dominoes, or 
 draughts ; nearly all were smoking. Even 
 the sleepers held their pipes securely be- 
 tween teeth or fingers. Half the dialects 
 of England were in the room, and as many 
 varieties of provincial costume. The men 
 were swarthy with weather-tan, and the fur- 
 rows of a hard life were cut deep into their 
 countenances. A few of them looked vicious, 
 but more looked simply reckless dare-devils ;
 
 142 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 there were some that suggested nothing 
 worse than bad luck. Looking like victims 
 of misfortune, they awoke pity rather than 
 anger : it is quite possible they were the 
 biggest scoundrels of the lot. Captain Silas 
 played three rubbers, then he rose and 
 crossed the room and sat beside York Jerry ; 
 the two held a short conversation in a very 
 low tone, after which the Captain got up and 
 went to Lady Poloc, who was resting a while, 
 leaning against the dresser, with folded arms. 
 
 " That's sad news we've heard to-night, 
 your ladyship, anent poor Dick o' th' Border," 
 remarked Captain Silas, in a sympathetic 
 voice that seemed natural to him. 
 
 " Yes, and it's no more than I expected. 
 Who but a fool would go and do a thing like 
 that ? " answered Lady Poloc, sharply. 
 
 " Very sad, indeed. He was the pluckiest 
 little chap I ever set eyes on, but he wasn't 
 cautious enough. Always doing something
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 143 
 
 odd and reckless. Sad, very sad. And to think 
 he came by his death, after all, in a natural 
 way doing his duty and obeying orders." 
 
 " What d'ye mean, man ? " 
 
 " Well, you see, your ladyship but this 
 is between ourselves I had an order from 
 a friend of mine in London to get a mare 
 of a certain age, size, make, and colour. He 
 wanted it for a customer of his, who was 
 willing to give a high price for the right 
 animal. I promised Dick o' th' Border fifty 
 pounds if he would get me the kind of 
 animal I wanted. Three weeks ago I heard 
 he had got it, and I sent him word to bring 
 it through by hook or by crook. I reckon 
 that was why he rode her out of that gullet, 
 instead of escaping through the passage in 
 the rocks. He was doing his duty obeying 
 orders. He lost his fifty pounds and his 
 life. I've lost the mare and a good round 
 sum in hard cash. Sad, very sad."
 
 144 THE BULL l' TH 5 THORN. 
 
 " Happen you'll be able to come across 
 another animal that'll suit you." 
 
 " Maybe, but not likely, leastways not for 
 some time. You don't happen to know of 
 one that's likely ? " enquired Captain Silas, 
 with winning suavity. 
 
 Her ladyship laughed and said, " Why 
 should I do your business for you ? Every 
 one to his own trade, I say." 
 
 " And a wise saying too, your ladyship ; 
 though trades o'erlap sometimes. That's a 
 mighty pretty little mug you have there. 
 Them coffee - coloured hares and yellow 
 hounds look well," said Captain Silas, pick- 
 ing up a gaily coloured mug from the 
 dresser, and examining it with a critical air. 
 Her ladyship nodded her head and smiled, 
 but made no remark. 
 
 " Heavy too. Eeckon it would make a 
 good paper-weight." 
 
 As he spoke, Captain Silas slid his thumb
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 145 
 
 and finger into his left waistcoat-pocket, and 
 pulled out a carefully folded five-pound note. 
 He put this on the dresser, and the mug on 
 the top of it. 
 
 "Very sad, very sad indeed. As plucky 
 a little chap as ever drew breath, was Dick 
 o' th' Border," he murmured softly, as he 
 turned away and began to refill his pipe. 
 
 Half an hour later, Captain Silas was 
 again chatting with her ladyship beside the 
 dresser, and it would seem that in the inter- 
 val her ladyship had recognised the truth of 
 that saying of Captain Silas Trades o'erlap 
 sometimes. Her ladyship was just remark- 
 ing, "Do it ? He could do it in a jiffy. 
 Cleverest lad I ever knew with animals. 
 There's no harm in asking him he can't 
 eat you. But I doubt I reckon that's him," 
 she said, crossing the room, as a knock was 
 heard at the door. 
 
 "Is that you, Kafe?" she called out, with 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 her hand upon the heavy wooden bar across 
 the door, in staple and slot. 
 
 "Yes, mother." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 " Alone." 
 
 She opened the door and Poloc entered the 
 room. A slight frown was upon his face ; it 
 had come with his mother's last question, 
 which reminded him unpleasantly of the char- 
 acter of his mother's guests. The Reevers 
 attributed it to the sudden glare of light in 
 which the new-comer found himself. It may 
 seem curious, but Poloc, without doing any- 
 thing to earn it, was a great favourite with 
 the Reevers. They had a strong sense of his 
 birth, of his rank, of his misfortunes, and 
 also of his integrity. Her ladyship was their 
 friend, and they admired her daring, and 
 shrewdness in making money out of them : 
 so far so good. But they thought the bet- 
 ter of Sir Ralph for always making himself
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 147 
 
 scarce when they were about, and they liked 
 young Poloc none the less for carrying him- 
 self in such a manner that none but an idiot 
 could ever mistake him for anything else 
 than a gentleman, and the natural and for 
 his mother's sake, the magnanimous foe of 
 all such gentry as themselves. It was this 
 feeling that brought every Reever to his feet 
 as Poloc entered the room, and elicited the 
 chorus of, " Good night, sir ! Hope you're 
 well, sir?" 
 
 Poloc returned the salutation pleasantly 
 enough, for he was in anything but a sour 
 humour ; the Muskerry perfume was still in 
 his nostrils. He sat down in Sir Ralph's 
 chair for a while, before going to bed. Came 
 Captain Silas, chair in hand, asking in mild- 
 est tones if he might be allowed to have a 
 few words with him. 
 
 " Certainly. Sit down, Captain Silas. I 
 shall be sorry, very sorry, when the day
 
 148 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 comes for you to be hanged," said Poloc, a 
 little grimly. 
 
 Captain Silas sat down, smiled reproach- 
 fully, and answered, " It's very kind of you 
 to say so, sir; but I've a fixed notion I'm 
 born to be drowned." 
 
 " Then it will be while trying to cross a 
 river to escape the officers of justice. It is a 
 silly game you are playing, to say nothing 
 worse ; and I cannot make out how a sensible 
 man like you should take a hand in it. Risk 
 apart, the same amount of energy put into a 
 lawful calling would make you a rich man." 
 
 "There I think you're wrong, sir, asking 
 your pardon. There are too many energetic 
 fellows playing the lawful game for all, or 
 most of them, to succeed. There isn't room 
 for them. But in our game the field's pretty 
 clear ; competition doesn't floor a man ; and 
 a fair amount of energy is rewarded." 
 
 " With Tyburn Tree."
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 149 
 
 "Well, I'd as soon climb Tyburn Tree any 
 day as lie starving and rotting for years in 
 Newgate, or the Fleet, or King's Bench Prison. 
 That's what your poor honest, lawful devil of 
 debtor comes to. I've seen 'em, heard 'em, and 
 shall never forget 'em. Tyburn Tree! Tyburn 
 Tree's a royal oak, sir, beside them cesspools ! " 
 
 " All the same, I do not quite fancy a Tree 
 that I can climb up easily enough, but can- 
 not climb down for the life of me or perhaps 
 I should say, for the death of me." 
 
 " That doesn't scare me. Death comes 
 but once, and once it's bound to come. But 
 we won't talk any more about that, Mr 
 Ralph ; it is a grisly topic. What may be 
 your opinion, if I may be so bold to ask, sir, 
 anent Squire Crump's cream-coloured mare ? " 
 
 " Why ? Do you want to reeve it ? " 
 asked Poloc, bluntly. 
 
 The Captain's face assumed an injured 
 expression.
 
 150 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 " You're hard on a man, Mr Ralph, very 
 hard. One would think, to hear you talk, 
 sir, that I didn't know what it was to pay 
 honest money for a horse," he said, in a tone 
 of sorrowful regret. 
 
 Poloc laughed. " I confess," he said, " I 
 thought you had an idea that horses, 
 like blackberries, were to be gathered for 
 nothing, and sold for what they would 
 fetch." 
 
 "Which goes to show what victims of 
 their prejudices the best of folk may be. I 
 understand, sir, that the Squire's mare is a 
 beauty." 
 
 "She is that, certainly. Handsomest bit 
 of horse-flesh I ever put my eyes on." 
 
 " No ! you don't say ? And you be a good 
 judge of horse-flesh too, I hear. Lord, how 
 I would like just to stroke her ! " 
 
 " She's a trifle fierce with strangers." 
 
 "So I've been told, sir skittish, shy, as
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 151 
 
 hard to get nigh as a wild brood-mare. Have 
 you ever touched her, Mr Ealph ? " 
 
 "Oh yes; we are very good friends. In 
 park or pasture she will come at my call. 
 She is as coquettish as a beautiful woman." 
 
 " Oh, the darling ! how I would like just 
 to stroke her ! How much do you think he 
 would sell her for ? " 
 
 " That is something I know nothing about. 
 I don't know that he would sell her at all." 
 
 " Ay, but he'll have to sell her, or 
 
 Captain Silas suddenly paused. 
 
 "You will take her without the buying, 
 eh ? " put in Poloc. 
 
 The Captain shook his head sadly, and 
 seemed lost in thought. Presently he said 
 
 " I could send him what I thought the 
 mare was worth that wouldn't be reeving, 
 would it ? " 
 
 " Well, perhaps not ; anyway, it would be 
 an agreeable modification of the old system.
 
 152 THE BULL l' TH* THOEN. 
 
 But if he doesn't want to part with her, her 
 mere money's worth wouldn't satisfy him for 
 her loss." 
 
 " That's mere sentiment ; and in trade 
 transactions, who pays for sentiment ? Not 
 me, sir. At any rate, I can ask him if he's 
 willing to sell." 
 
 "Yes, that is the right way to go about 
 it," said Poloc, rising from his seat. 
 
 " Just a word more, Mr Ralph, and I've 
 done. If it could be managed, I should like 
 very much just to stroke her, afore I see the 
 Squire. You see, I want to close the bar- 
 gain at once with the Squire ; but I mustn't 
 buy a pig in a poke that's against my busi- 
 ness principles. I want to get a private look 
 at the animal ; I should know her value in 
 two minutes." 
 
 " Well, I daresay the groom, or coachman, 
 or somebody about the stables, would oblige 
 you."
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 153 
 
 Captain Silas actually sighed, as he shook 
 his head mournfully. 
 
 " No, no, Mr Ralph, that would never do. 
 Won't you do me a favour, Mr Ralph ? " 
 asked the Captain, with appealing persua- 
 siveness. 
 
 "I really cannot say off-hand. Let me 
 hear what it is." 
 
 " Won't you, as a great favour, go with 
 me, and let us have a look at her together ? " 
 
 Ralph Poloc shook his head decidedly. 
 
 " No ? Ay, but I'm sorry, very sorry. But 
 you wouldn't object just to calling the mare 
 for me ? Just to let me stroke her ? " 
 
 Poloc all of a sudden seemed to grow 
 visibly an inch taller. 
 
 " Now, now, Mr Ralph, don't be angry, 
 sir. Her ladyship told me of the mare, and 
 she's lost nothing by it. Nor should you 
 either, sir, if " 
 
 A hot flush came over Poloc's face and his
 
 154 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 eyes kindled, at the mention of his mother's 
 name. Looking the Captain steadily in the 
 eye, he said, in a tone that admitted of no 
 doubt as to his meaning 
 
 " Captain Silas, you have had communi- 
 cations, it seems, with my mother, and you 
 have made a proposal to me just now. Evil 
 communications are apt to corrupt good man- 
 ners and good morality. All I have to say 
 is this : the next time you dare to do what 
 you have done to-night, I'll kick you out of 
 this house as sure as you are a living man. 
 You are as brave as you are big, I know, 
 and as big as you are bad ; but what Kalph 
 Poloc says he will do, he will do. Good 
 night to you." 
 
 " Yes, yes, there's no doubt on it ; he'd do 
 it. Sad, very sad that a fine young fellow 
 like that should have such a temper, and 
 so many prejudices ! " murmured Captain 
 Silas to himself, as he watched Poloc
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 155 
 
 pick up a candle and go up-stairs to bed. 
 There was no resentment in the large 
 breast of Captain Silas, only a fine blend- 
 ing of pity and admiration. 
 
 Poloc went to bed, and for a time lay 
 thinking of Guenilda ; then the Eeevers took 
 possession of his thoughts, and banished the 
 fairer image from his mind altogether. By- 
 and-by he laughed audibly, and throwing 
 back the bed-clothes, sprang lightly on to the 
 floor, and began to dress himself. Picking 
 up his shoes in his hand, he opened a door 
 that had not been unbolted for a twelve- 
 month, and went lightly in his stockings 
 along a broad landing, and down a narrow 
 zigzag corridor that was as dark as a bag. 
 At the end of the corridor was a short flight 
 of steps, and at the bottom of these was 
 a window, fastened with a single shutter and 
 cross-bar. 
 
 Poloc gently lowered the bar and opened
 
 156 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 the shutter : the window consisted of two 
 iron bars fixed perpendicularly in the stone- 
 work, and nothing else. Wood-work and 
 glass had altogether disappeared. A cold 
 wind drave in the face of Poloc. After a 
 moment's hesitation, he passed through the 
 bars, and dropped noiselessly on to the roof 
 of the granary, where he sat down in a small 
 wilderness of weeds and wild-flowers and put 
 on his shoes. From the granary roof he 
 passed to an apple-tree, from the tree on 
 to a brick kennel with steps, and so into the 
 courtyard. 
 
 The wind had increased in strength, and 
 was now blowing half a gale. Driven maybe 
 by the wind, the six Reevers who were 
 mounting guard had come together in 
 groups of threes, and were sheltering at two 
 different points under the lee of the out- 
 buildings : this was altogether a better 
 arrangement, they thought, than standing
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 157 
 
 fifty feet apart from each other, solitary and 
 shivering with cold. Meanwhile, however, 
 a battle might have raged in the courtyard 
 without them hearing a sound. 
 
 Poloc, having satisfied himself that he had 
 nothing to fear from the picquet, came to the 
 kitchen-door and thundered upon it loudly 
 with a clump of wood he had in his hand. 
 The low murmur of voices within suddenly 
 ceased, and for some moments a dead silence 
 reigned. Then he heard his mother's voice 
 calling out 
 
 " Who's there, ye noisy wretch ? " 
 
 " Open the door, or I will break it open," 
 Poloc answered, in the most foreign tones 
 he could command. There was no reply for 
 some little time, and Poloc began to wonder 
 if his voice had been recognized. It was 
 with no small relief that he heard her lady- 
 ship at length call out 
 
 " Ye will, will ye, ye murderous vagabond !
 
 158 THE BULL I TH THORN. 
 
 Break open my door and I'll break open your 
 knavish head ! Ei, and I will, if ye be King 
 George himself!" 
 
 Poloc gave another loud knock, and then 
 he cried 
 
 " Open, in the King's name ! " 
 
 At this there seemed to be a quick shuf- 
 fling of feet, followed by another brief spell 
 of silence. Then was heard the mild voice 
 of Captain Silas observing 
 
 "We are all good and true subjects of 
 his Majesty King George III. here, and it 
 would pain us to dispute his authority. But 
 you see, good sir, this house is lonesome, and 
 the night is wild, and there are bad men 
 abroad who would not hesitate to take the 
 Royal name in vain, if thereby they could 
 steal our purses, and, peradventure, cut our 
 throats. Therefore, good sir, I pray you 
 have me and my two companions excused 
 from opening the door."
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 159 
 
 " Open, in the King's name ! " 
 
 " I am sorry, very sorry, but I can't do 
 it. May I be so bold as to enquire your 
 name ? " 
 
 " Captain Lupton, of the Scots Greys.". 
 
 "You don't say! Then I know you, 
 Captain, and where you are stationed. 
 You've not ridden from barracks to - night, 
 I hope?" 
 
 As no reply came, he continued 
 
 " Not talkative to - night, eh, Captain ? 
 Well, well, it grieves me to keep you out in 
 the cold, but what's your business ? " 
 
 "To capture, alive or dead, you, Captain 
 Silas, and your gang." 
 
 " Well, to be sure, that's a bit of pleasing 
 information. And how do you mean to 
 work it ? " 
 
 "I have here a troop of dragoons. Your 
 outposts are already captured, all six of 
 them. The ' Bull i' th' Thorn ' is sur-
 
 160 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 rounded, and escape is out of the question. 
 I command you to surrender, in the King's 
 name." 
 
 " Well, I'm sorry, mighty sorry. You 
 seem to have been sharpening your wits 
 lately, unless it be that it's the work of a 
 traitor. I'm Captain Silas that's dead sure 
 and the boys are all here. We'll fight you, 
 Captain Lupton fight you just as long as 
 body and soul hang together. But there 
 is not a man among us as knows what 
 ' surrender ' means, and I'm thinking, Cap- 
 tain, it's beyond your power to teach 'em. 
 Good night, Captain ; I'm going to have a 
 glass o' grog afore the business begins." 
 
 Poloc heard him coolly walk away and 
 call for a glass of grog. 
 
 Five minutes later Poloc descended from 
 his bedroom to the kitchen ; he was not 
 more than half dressed, and what with his 
 nightcap on his head, and the wild half-
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 161 
 
 dazed look in his sleepy eyes, and the 
 flaming of the candle, that had burnt so 
 low that the paper round the end had 
 caught fire, he presented a rather singular 
 appearance. 
 
 " What d'ye want here now, Kafe ? Why 
 aren't ye asleep in bed ? " demanded her 
 ladyship, angrily. 
 
 " I came to see what that loud knocking 
 meant just now. What's all this mean ? 
 What's the matter ? " said Poloc, with some 
 show of concern, as his glance went round 
 the room. The Reevers stood grouped 
 together, armed with pistols and clubs. 
 Came Captain Silas, with a smile on his 
 moon face, and said 
 
 " We are in a bit of a fix, Mr Ealph, 
 that's all. There's a troop of cavalry out- 
 side, and they want to come in. Happen 
 they'll come to, for the matter of that. How 
 they got scent on us is what bothers me, 
 
 VOL. i. L
 
 162 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 unless it's the the work of a a 
 Traitor, Mr Ralph." 
 
 The beautiful smile still lingered like sun- 
 shine on his face, but somehow it did not 
 qualify his voice, which was dark, cold, and 
 dangerous. At the word " traitor " every 
 eye was fixed on Poloc ; then, as the same 
 idea seemed to flash suddenly from mind to 
 mind, a hoarse shout went up of " Traitor ! 
 Death to the traitor ! " 
 
 Poloc felt a strange clutching at his heart; 
 his joke seemed about to recoil in boomerang 
 fashion upon his own head. Leaning against 
 the dresser with folded arms, Lady Poloc 
 watched the scene with an air of supreme 
 indifference. Said Captain Silas 
 
 " If I say the word, sir, you're a dead man 
 in twenty seconds. That's what I call having 
 the power of life and death in your hands. 
 I should be sorry, very sorry, sir, to make 
 a mistake, seeing as how I can kill, but canna
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 163 
 
 make alive again. You may as well own up, 
 sir, afore I say the word." 
 
 "You can say what word you like, as far 
 as I'm concerned, Captain Silas. But the 
 first man as tells me I am a traitor is a 
 liar, and I'll punch his head for him whether 
 his name is Captain Silas or not," replied 
 Poloc, with no pretence of sleep in his eyes 
 now. 
 
 Captain Silas said, turning to his men 
 
 "You hear him, lads, and you see him 
 nightcap and all. Now, who wants his head 
 punched ? " 
 
 At this the Eeevers broke out laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " None of you, it seems. Nor do I, lads. 
 As for Mr Ralph being a traitor well, never 
 mind what I thought or feared. One thing 
 is dead sure Ralph Poloc is a gentleman, and 
 he says it's a lie. I'm thinking if any of 
 you don't believe him, you had better step
 
 164 THE BULL l' TH' THOKN. 
 
 out one at a time, and he'll give you a jolly 
 good punching and serve you right ! " 
 
 Said York Jerry "If we wornt in 
 sich a teet hoil, an' had th' teem, aw'd 
 like a bout at wreastlin' wi' Meester Eafe ; 
 nobbut aw'd be ashamed to say aw didna 
 believe ta, sir." 
 
 Said Poloc to Captain Silas " Well, and 
 what are you going to do next to amuse 
 yourselves with ? " 
 
 " Seeing we haven't got to kill you, sir, 
 we can do nothing but wait till they attack 
 us. There will be plenty of amusement 
 then, happen," answered Captain Silas, a bit 
 grimly. 
 
 " Why don't you try and get away ? You 
 will be shot or hanged, as sure as fate, if you 
 stay here." 
 
 " Very likely ; but, as York Jerry says, we 
 are in ' sich a teet hoil.' The vermin are all 
 round the house, it seems."
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME ! 165 
 
 " I think I know a way out, if you care to 
 trust me," said Poloc, a little loftily. 
 
 For an answer, Captain Silas turned to the 
 Keevers, and said, " Now, lads, pick up your 
 traps, keep your pistols ready, sharpen your 
 wits, and follow me. I'm going to follow 
 this gentleman who wanted to punch your 
 heads." 
 
 So they started in single file, and in 
 another minute the kitchen was deserted. 
 Poloc led them through a series of vault- 
 like cellars, till he came to a pile of old 
 casks ; removing several of these, he felt in 
 the dry dust with his hand for some mo- 
 ments, until he had found an iron ring. 
 " Lend me a hand, Captain," he said, and 
 together they raised a large trap-door that 
 had not been lifted for years. A short flight 
 of steps, a long bricked passage, in which 
 Dick o' th' Border could have stood upright, 
 and then an iron door, bolted and barred,
 
 166 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 which was difficult to open. At last it 
 swung with a creak, and the wind came 
 driving in. They forced their way through 
 a thick growth of thorns and brambles, and 
 then they stood free, in a little hollow 
 between the "Bull i' th' Thorn" and the 
 village. 
 
 At a word from Captain Silas, the men 
 separated as noiselessly as phantoms, and 
 were at once swallowed up in the moorland 
 darkness. Half an hour later, after recon- 
 noitring with vulpine sagacity and precau- 
 tion, the Eeevers were all gathered together 
 again in the courtyard of the " Bull i' th' 
 Thorn." Said Captain Silas 
 
 " There's something at the back of this I 
 don't understand. Happen it was only a 
 trick ; in which case, I'd very much like to 
 know who played it on. Happen, though, 
 we aren't yet out of the woods. I am in- 
 clined to think we shall fall in with our
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME! 167 
 
 friends before sunrise, and then we shall 
 have our hands full. The thing to do now, 
 lads, is to thank our lucky stars, get our 
 animals out, and each of us gang our 
 own gate with the best foot forrard. Be- 
 tween me and the ' Bull i' th' Thorn ' 
 there'll lie fifty miles afore this time to- 
 morrow." 
 
 And very soon afterwards men and horses 
 were travelling across the moor swiftly, in a 
 dozen different directions. Unseen by the 
 Reevers, Poloc watched the last of them 
 depart, and then he re-entered the house. 
 Lady Poloc was warming her feet in front 
 of the open fireplace, candle in hand, ready 
 to retire. 
 
 " Are you going to bed, mother ? " asked 
 Poloc. 
 
 " I be," answered her ladyship rather 
 tartly. 
 
 " What about the soldiers outside ? "
 
 168 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 " Look here, Kafe, I'm none such a fool as 
 you think for. Happen ye think it was a 
 very good joke, and I'm precious glad to be 
 well rid of 'em. But if they'd done for ye, 
 it would have served you just right. Not 
 know thy voice, lad ? Fiddlesticks ! " And 
 her ladyship marched off to bed, leaving 
 Poloc to his own reflections.
 
 169 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 
 
 THE " Leather Bottle " inn, as if conscious 
 that it had more than a merely local reputa- 
 tion to sustain the fame of its cleanliness, 
 comfort, prettiness, politeness, its nut-brown 
 draughts of home-brewed ale, and its prox- 
 imity to the classic Scarthin, from which 
 grayling could be landed in a hot sun and 
 trout in the clear moonlight, having been 
 bruited abroad the land unto the margin 
 of the four seas was withdrawn from the 
 swarm of cottages, and stood in dignified 
 aloofness at the upper end of the village of 
 Poloc. It was one mass of ivy from cellar-
 
 170 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 window to chimney-top, and was flanked on 
 the side nearest to the village by an old- 
 fashioned garden, behind a carefully trimmed 
 yew hedge with a back almost broad enough 
 and strong enough for a coach-and-four. 
 Pleasant exceedingly to the eye was this 
 garden, with its honeysuckled arbours, its 
 quaint seats of retirement among the rocks, 
 and nooks of observation in the trees. The 
 ear also was fed therein with the babble of a 
 brook, melodious as the chatter of a young 
 child, and, in the right season, with the 
 droning of bees and the twittering and 
 singing of birds. 
 
 In front of the house was an ancient yew, 
 with a wooden seat around it ; hard by was 
 a drinking-trough for horses. In summer 
 time it was as pretty a roadside inn as any 
 the mail-coaches drew up at, or thundered 
 past aib an average rate of eight miles an 
 hour including stoppages, between Man-
 
 THE " LEATHER BOTTLE. lYl 
 
 chester, or Liverpool, and the Swan with 
 Two Necks, Lad Lane, in London Town. 
 And though to the seeing eye and the 
 hearing ear its winter charm was not less 
 strong than its summer charm, to ordinary 
 mortals the attraction was all inside the 
 ''Leather Bottle," at what time the crisp 
 red-brown leaves of the beech-trees rattled 
 like bits of tissue-paper in the wind. 
 
 The common drinking was not done at 
 the "Leather Bottle," but in the ale-house 
 at the other end of the village known as 
 the " Up Three Steps " inn ; thither resorted 
 the commonalty of Poloc, who were enter- 
 tained in the kitchen. The parlour was re- 
 served for the use of the magnates y poder- 
 osos, the more important personages of the 
 place, among whom were reckoned a small 
 farmer or two, the parish clerk, the keeper 
 of the village shop, the blacksmith, and a 
 few others.
 
 172 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 But when these great people entered the 
 " Leather Bottle," they had to moderate their 
 pretensions, and lower their dignity to the 
 level of the flag-paved kitchen, with its rows 
 of pewter plates and copper saucepans, its 
 hanging hams, and flitches of bacon, some 
 drying in the chimney-corner and others 
 lying in flat racks near the ceiling. And 
 this they did without any heartburning or 
 friction, knowing like reasonable men that, 
 though sheep may take precedence of 
 poultry, they may not exalt themselves in 
 presence of the big cattle of the field, like 
 unto horses and oxen. 
 
 Even the miller, who was a warm man and 
 ran his own mill, and the timber merchant, 
 and the Squire's agent, and Mr Doxey the 
 big farmer, recognized the propriety of turn- 
 ing into the kitchen, if any foreign gentleman 
 with a taste for fishing happened to be in the 
 parlour. Their sense of propriety was so ad-
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 173 
 
 mirable, that if they happened to be in the 
 parlour when young Mr Poloc, or young Mr 
 Crump, or young Mr Muskerry entered, they 
 would at once get up, and, with a respectful 
 greeting, leave the place of honour to the new- 
 comer and proceed to the kitchen. Though 
 if any of the gentlemen detained them with 
 questions, and seemed to desire to have a 
 talk with them, they were ready to show 
 their good-breeding by their consent. 
 
 Let us take just a peep at this place of 
 high honour the parlour at the " Leather 
 Bottle " inn. A good-sized room, but not 
 too large to be thoroughly warmed by the 
 cheerful wood - fire ; low - roofed, with two 
 ponderous beams, black as ebony, dropping 
 six inches below the ceiling. The floor of 
 bright-red tiles nicely sanded with fine 
 silvery sand ; the broad lattice-window with 
 deep embrasures, wherein is placed a pot of 
 lavender. The walls lined all over with
 
 174 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 wainscoting dark with age, and ornamented 
 with a picture of the king arrayed in the 
 familiar blue coat, star, cocked-hat, and top- 
 boots ; two piscatorial pieces, one showing 
 a carp and a tench lying side by side in 
 death, with a curious expression of wonder 
 in their open eyes the other a landscape 
 view of distant mountains, with a nearer 
 lake, and in the foreground a char, or 
 Alpine trout, with an olive-green back and 
 a vermilion belly; a dozen or so patriotic 
 handbills and soul-stirring ballads pinned 
 here and there, reminiscences of the thrill of 
 fear and defiance that four or five years 
 earlier had run through all England, and 
 the memory of which still made all Eng- 
 land's blood to tingle. 
 
 Opposite the window, an old engraving of 
 Izaak Walton with crossed hands, ring on 
 the third finger of the sinister hand, gloves 
 in the same hand, broad collar round the
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 175 
 
 neck, three rows of buttons down his coat, 
 wearing his own hair on to his shoulders, and 
 with more of the Puritan than the Prelatist 
 in his countenance. Underneath the engrav- 
 ing, in a little glazed frame, a faded bit of 
 writing to this effect In this chair sat Mr 
 Izaak Walton when he came a-fishing to 
 Poloc in the month of November A.D. 
 MDCLIII., and stayed at the old house 
 with the sign of the Leather Bottle. Below 
 the legend, the chair itself, high-backed, 
 broad-bottomed, four mast-like legs, a couple 
 of turned rails on each of the four sides, two 
 more for the arms, and six at the back, three 
 vertical and three horizontal twin brother 
 to Governor Carver's chair ; not a thing of 
 beauty like the Elder Brewster chair, but 
 made at a time when timber was sound and 
 well seasoned, and chairmakers had not as 
 yet taken to the curious study of spiders' 
 legs. On the high and narrow mantelpiece,
 
 176 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 an array of brass candlesticks of simple 
 antique pattern. Half-a-dozen well-polished 
 Windsor chairs, a square mahogany table 
 with folding-leaves, a small round table with 
 moveable top near the window, and between 
 the door and the open fireplace a huge 
 screen with many folds. 
 
 Such was the parlour at the " Leather 
 Bottle " inn, with something more that was 
 not to be described but experienced the 
 spirit of welcome, the sense of comfort, the 
 flavour of a ripe and sound old age. 
 
 In this room, all alone, sat young Percival 
 Muskerry, one white November day about a 
 fortnight later than the coming and the going 
 of the Reevers. He had found it heavy walk- 
 ing, owing to the deep fall of snow during the 
 previous night ; and finding himself overtaken 
 by another snowstorm in the neighbourhood 
 of the " Leather Bottle," he had turned in 
 for shelter, and now was reading a London
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 177 
 
 paper two days old. He was perfectly 
 familiar with the room, and felt quite at 
 home in the large arm-chair not Mr Izaak 
 Walton's, which was for ornament, not use 
 with its chintz-covered cushion and broad 
 flat arms ; for the place was the village 
 substitute for White's, where he and his 
 friend, Archibald Crump, often met and had 
 a glass and pipe together, talked politics 
 local and imperial, discussed the general 
 prospects of the war and the details of the 
 latest victory, or played a close game at 
 chess. Not infrequently, of late especially, 
 they had been joined by Poloc. It was Crump 
 who had introduced Poloc to Muskerry, and 
 the two had learned to like each other 
 cordially ; so much was this the case, that 
 Crump had more than once shown signs of 
 jealousy. 
 
 Since the time when they were lads of 
 much the same age, Crump had always 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 cultivated the society of the last of the 
 proud Polocs. His mode of cultivation was 
 hardly a happy one, however. He seemed 
 to start with the idea that his acquaintance 
 was an honour which invited, not to say 
 demanded, a certain deference on the part 
 of the recipient. A Poloc deferential to a 
 Crump ! Poloc did not see the matter at all 
 in that light, and when any attempt was 
 made at patronage, he had the irritating 
 trick of turning the tables upon his com- 
 panion, and touching him with a light in- 
 solence and ridicule, that sometimes stung 
 like a nettle and again pricked like a thorn. 
 This was not exactly the method of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Nevertheless, so far as it went, Poloc was 
 loyal in his companionship, and his word 
 never outran his heart. This was scarcely 
 the case with Crump. Perhaps it was only 
 natural that he should be a bit ruffled at the
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 179 
 
 frank footing of perfect equality on which 
 Muskerry and Poloc stood in fifteen minutes 
 after their first introduction ; at the strange 
 ease with which they seemed to reach an 
 entire understanding of one another. More 
 especially as he, Crump, had always felt that 
 there was a subtile barrier between himself 
 and Muskerry which the latter absolutely 
 refused to help him break down. 
 
 Again, as human nature goes, it was ques- 
 tionless a little vexing, not to say galling, to 
 compare the formal respect which he, the 
 Squire's son, extorted from the villagers with 
 the instinctive and affectionate deference 
 which they seemed proud to offer Ealph Poloc, 
 ploughman and mule-driver. But though 
 these were real grievances, they could be 
 scarcely said to reach to the justification of 
 double -face and backbiting little foibles 
 in which Archibald Crump was apt to in- 
 dulge. Just now he was in London, where
 
 180 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 he had been for several weeks ; and Mus- 
 kerry, cast on his own resources, had found 
 them scarcely equal to the pleasant de- 
 struction of time. 
 
 The paper he was scanning suggested 
 London, which suggested sundry delightful 
 phases of life, which suggested his friend 
 Crump, which suggested Crump's return, 
 which suggested the royal mail - coach. 
 He paid out this chain of ideas with no 
 peasant's sluggishness, but leisurely and 
 deliberately, with a full consciousness that 
 as it was with pounds sterling, so it was 
 with mental images and ideas an extrava- 
 gant expenditure would entail a speedy 
 bankruptcy. 
 
 The intellectual pace of provincial life on 
 both sides of the Scarthin, whether in hall 
 or cottage, bore no resemblance to the des- 
 perate and dangerous speed of the mail- 
 coach which, to sober-minded people, was
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 181 
 
 objectionable, and revolutionary in tendency. 
 Nor yet did it resemble the speed of the 
 ordinary stage-coach, whose foolish ambition 
 to run neck to neck with the royal mail was 
 only checked and broken by its superior 
 weight and its inferior horse-flesh. Rather 
 did it resemble the huge stage-waggon with 
 its mighty tent, its eight powerful horses, its 
 broad massive wheels with five tires attached 
 to each periphery; slowly it moved and 
 surely, with no revolutionary recklessness, 
 leaving a well-defined track behind it, and 
 with a ponderous dignity all its own. 
 
 Paying out ideas in this leisured manner, 
 it took Muskerry to the end of his clean 
 clay-pipe, with a stem a yard in length and 
 curled in the middle for the space of six 
 inches, to reach the image of the mail-coach. 
 Apparently this was the last link of the 
 concatenation of ideas, for upon its arrival 
 Muskerry came out of his abstraction, and
 
 182 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 cast a glance at the weather through the 
 window. Then he knocked the ashes out 
 of his pipe, having first thrown the stale 
 newspaper across the room. 
 
 A tap on the door, and the motherly 
 figure of Dame Wildgoose, the hostess, ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " I thought the fire happen wanted tending 
 a bit, sir," she said, proceeding to add a couple 
 more logs to the ample fire. 
 
 " It is still snowing, I see," remarked Mus- 
 kerry. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and there's more to come yet, 
 I'm thinking." 
 
 " It will be pretty heavy travelling, then." 
 
 "You are right there, sir. The outsides 
 will have a poor time of it." 
 
 " I think, as I have stayed so long, I will 
 stay a little longer till the mail has gone. 
 It should be here soon, if it isn't late," said 
 Muskerry, pulling his watch out of his fob.
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 183 
 
 " And what may the time be now, sir, if 
 you please ? " 
 
 " Ten minutes to two." 
 
 "Then it won't be here for twenty -five 
 minutes yet." 
 
 " Is it always punctual, then ? " asked 
 Muskerry, with a pleasant laugh. 
 
 " Well, no, sir, not alles, but mostly. It's 
 been late twice this year so far. Tenth o' 
 Jannywery, it was nine minutes behind time ; 
 snow caused it. Twenty-second o' July, it 
 was welly half an hour late, 'cause they lost 
 a linchpin near hind wheel, I think it was, 
 and come welly nigh having a turn-over. 
 Happen they'll have six horses in to-day; 
 but barring accidents, they'll be here to 
 time, sir, you may depend on it," said Dame 
 Wildgoose, with a certainty of conviction 
 that would have been ridiculous had it not 
 been sublime. 
 
 We are apt to think that railways inaugu-
 
 184 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 rated the era of punctuality in travelling ; yet 
 it is on record that two mails, starting at the 
 same time from points six hundred miles 
 apart, met regularly on a certain bridge, 
 which stood half-way on their journey. 
 Dame Wildgoose's faith in a system that 
 was daily illustrated by similar facts, was as 
 much a compliment to her own good sense 
 as it was to the wonderful organization that 
 evoked and justified it. 
 
 " Then, bring me some egg - flip, please," 
 said Muskerry, refilling his pipe. 
 
 The egg-flip was brought and disposed of, 
 and Muskerry was half-way through his 
 second pipe, when the winding blast of a 
 horn was heard at a little distance. He 
 looked at his watch. 
 
 " Quarter past two. Pretty prompt that," 
 he murmured. 
 
 He sat listening, and very soon he heard 
 a dull thud, which seemed suddenly to open
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 185 
 
 out into a rattling series of sharp strokes, 
 followed by the crunching of wheels and the 
 thunder of hoofs. Dropping his pipe, Mus- 
 kerry rushed to the door and stood under 
 the porch, to watch the passing of the royal 
 mail. Dame Wildgoose stood beside him, 
 with a couple of maids behind craning their 
 necks to get a good view, while out in the 
 snow, in sleeved waistcoat that had once 
 been red but was now subdued by the dyes 
 of the stable-yard, stood the ostler with an 
 admirably assumed air of expectancy, as 
 though it were an everyday occurrence for 
 the "Leather Bottle" to receive guests by 
 the royal mail-coach. Another blast on the 
 horn, and round the near curve in the road 
 comes dashing into view the coach. 
 
 Dame Wildgoose was right there are six 
 horses to-day, with a postilion on the near 
 leader ; they are sweating and foam-flecked, 
 but they are in splendid form and their
 
 186 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 mettle is high, and they come on with toss- 
 ing heads at a swinging gallop. The blood 
 tingles in Muskerry's veins, and had he been 
 alone by the roadside he would have cried, 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! On it comes at full speed. 
 In two seconds it will have passed, and gone 
 thundering up the valley. " Whoa ! " cries 
 the driver, gathering in his reins, while the 
 wheels creak and grow suddenly bright with 
 the pressure of the brakes. The horses make 
 a dead stop instantly; and the glorious 
 spectacle, instead of rushing away like a 
 vision, is halted right facing the front door 
 of the " Leather Bottle." 
 
 Instantly, there is a flutter of excitement 
 among the females. Dame Wildgoose raises 
 her hands as high as her breasts, with a 
 subdued, " Lors bless me ! " Then, calling 
 to mind her station and duties as hostess, she 
 turns to the maids and says, almost sharply, 
 "Now, girls, look alive!" Whereupon the
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 187 
 
 maids dart away into the house. The 
 ostler has sprung forward and stands in will- 
 ing and waiting attitude behind the nimble 
 guard, who has dropped from his perch in a 
 flash, and obsequiously touches his hat as 
 he opens the door to allow one of the four 
 insides to alight. This is a gentleman of 
 medium height, wearing a hat with a conical 
 crown, and a long drab overcoat bordered 
 with fur. He looks about him for a moment, 
 then a frown gathers on his face, and in 
 haughty tones he calls out, loudly enough 
 for his travelling companions to hear 
 
 " Ostler, what the devil does this mean ? 
 Hasn't the carriage come from the Hall ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; nowt's come, Mr Archibald." 
 
 Then, raising his voice, he is a great di- 
 plomatist in a small way, he adds 
 
 " I see'd your father, the Squire, sir, out 
 in the yeller-bodied carriage not long sen ; 
 he was a-driving the two chestnuts, sir, an' I
 
 188 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 thowt they looked nicer than the greys, sir. 
 Happen, he reckoned o' being round in time 
 to drive you up, sir." 
 
 His face is grave, but he is chuckling 
 inside ; for if his bit of neat fiction has not 
 won him half-a-crown from Mr Archibald, 
 then he is a duffer that does not know the 
 market-price of the feather that tickles 
 vanity. 
 
 " Very likely. I will Hallo, old man, 
 
 this is jolly ! " exclaims the traveller from 
 town, as Muskerry, smiling at his own 
 thoughts, lounges gracefully across the road. 
 
 " First-rate. Didn't expect you a bit. 
 Glad to see you. Come inside and give 
 me the news," says Muskerry, who is more 
 pleased to see his companion than he cares 
 to show. With his blond, fresh, frank face, 
 his easy carriage, arrayed in a loose jacket, 
 breeches, and top-boots, he looks the country 
 gentleman every inch.
 
 THE "LEATHER BOTTLE." 189 
 
 Meanwhile the nimble maids of the inn 
 have presented jarvey and guard and pos- 
 tilion with draughts of the very best tap 
 in the house, and have served tankards 
 to order to the three out sides, and .two 
 brandies and a whisky to order to the three 
 insides. The luggage is out, the guard has 
 mounted to his seat, and while Mr Archibald 
 Crump is rather ostentatiously taking leave 
 of coachman and guard in the time-honoured 
 silvery way, we may steal a quick glance at 
 the splendid horses, the beautiful shape of 
 the chocolate-coloured vehicle, with the royal 
 arms emblazoned modestly upon a single 
 panel. 
 
 Jarvey is in the privilege of the post-office, 
 and wears the royal livery ; but, alas ! all 
 glory of colour is hidden, for driver and 
 guard are enveloped in thick overcoats with 
 innumerable capes. " Steady there ! and 
 forrard's the word. Gee up ! " cries the coach-
 
 190 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 man. The postilion lifts his whip, the horses 
 spring forward like greyhounds, the guard 
 blows a blast on the horn, and away goes the 
 royal mail at a gallop which will soon make 
 up the four minutes lost at the "Leather 
 Bottle."
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 
 
 THE ostler set about getting a horse and 
 cart ready to take the luggage up to the 
 Hall Poloc Hall, as it was still called, the 
 ancestral home of the Polocs, whose arms 
 were built into the walls in a dozen places. 
 In the classic parlour the two young men 
 were chatting over their pipes. 
 
 " Why didn't you let me know you were 
 coming down ? I didn't expect you much 
 before Christmas," said Muskerry. 
 
 " Well, the truth is, I left a bit suddenly. 
 I hadn't even time to let them know at 
 home that I was coming."
 
 192 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 " Then how on earth did you expect them 
 to meet you ? " 
 
 " Meet me ? Oh, you are thinking of me 
 asking about the carriage not being here. 
 Oh, that was a bit of brag. There were two 
 big swells inside there, you know, and I 
 
 thought I'd let them see But there, I 
 
 believe they were only raffs, after all," ex- 
 claimed Crump, with a laugh in which Mus- 
 kerry did not join. 
 
 Continued Crump "The fact of the matter 
 is, I have been going it a little too fast. 
 Night before last, I got playing at hazard 
 with Lord Tom Hallowynd and a deucedly 
 lucky little Frenchman, Count de de call 
 it de Devil. He was attached to the French 
 Embassy some time ago, and is now a great 
 curser of Bonaparte. Between them, they 
 cleared me out completely. I thought I'd 
 better get away before I plunged deeper. 
 The old man is willing to pay for my ' legiti-
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 193 
 
 mate pleasures taken in aristocratic society/ 
 as he put it. Unfortunately, however, he 
 does not consider losing from three to five 
 hundred a night at hazard or ecarte a le- 
 gitimate pleasure, not even if I lose to pretty 
 Mrs Mashington, or lovely Lady Pilton, or 
 Lord Tom, or the De Devil himself." 
 
 " I wish my governor would stump up as 
 well as yours does. It is horribly dull down 
 here just now." 
 
 " There is no life here, absolutely none. 
 It is vegetation and nothing else, except 
 minerals," remarked Crump. 
 
 " I would not go so far as that. You 
 wouldn't call a torpid bat a fungus, or a 
 hibernating bear a stone. We want waking 
 up, that's all. Did you go to the opera ? " 
 
 '" Yes. We had Cosi Fan tutti, or Soglia 
 Degli Amanti ; music by Mozart a stupid 
 composition. Vestris, Deshayes, and his dear 
 corpulent lady, danced a ravir. You should 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 THE BULL l' TH' THORX. 
 
 have seen her. It was enough to make an 
 ox grow sentimental. With majestic slow- 
 ness she elevated her proud limb until it 
 was in a perfectly horizontal position, at 
 right angles with the other leg ; then, on 
 the point of her toes, she described a beauti- 
 ful circle in the air, with outstretched finger 
 on a line with her leg. It was a tour de 
 force that brought the house down. It 
 would have been divine if her waist had 
 measured ten inches less." 
 
 In this style he rattled on for nearly an 
 hour. He had a lot to tell, and liked the 
 telling of it, and had a most appreciative 
 listener in Muskerry, whose visits to town 
 were not so frequent as he would have liked, 
 and could scarcely be said to keep him in 
 touch with the great world of London life. 
 The O.P. Riots were just ended, and the 
 stupid episode had furnished Crump with 
 a full sheaf of racy anecdotes. He bewailed
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 195 
 
 his bad luck in not having heard the strong, 
 sweet voice, nor seen the winsome action, 
 nor the bewitching tenderness of expression 
 of the Italian " antelope face " of Catalani, 
 who had gone to Ireland. He had heard 
 the comic Naldi, and the graceful Tramez- 
 zani, and Bianchi, and Bertinotti, and the 
 trumpet-toned Braham. At Co vent Garden 
 he had seen the mighty Kemble in " Ham- 
 let," with Munden's Polonius and Fawcett's 
 Gravedigger. Besides coat and waistcoat, 
 he had counted eight under- waistcoats which 
 the chief gravedigger took off one at a time, 
 and, folding carefully, put beside his coat 
 with pantomimic variety and detail of action 
 which made the house ring with applause at 
 this bit of faithful copying from nature. 
 
 He had seen Elliston in a "A Cure for the 
 Heart- Ache " at the Haymarket, and in the 
 " Honeymoon," and thought his love-making 
 the very finest thing going. He had some-
 
 196 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 thing to say of the tragic Siddons, and jolly 
 Bannister, and the mimic Mathews ; while 
 his praise of Mrs Jordan ran high and strong 
 as the Scarthin at flood-time. He had been 
 introduced to her, and had shaken hands 
 with her. 
 
 Pidcock's Menagerie, alas ! he reported 
 defunct ; but it was some consolation at 
 least to know what the skeleton of the 
 elephant was put up at, and what it was 
 knocked down at. He had seen the won- 
 derful performing horses at Astley's ; and 
 West's famous picture of the Death of 
 Nelson ; and Parker's great panorama of 
 Dover, covering a surface of nine hundred 
 square yards ; and that cabinet - of natural 
 history known as the Liverpool Museum, 
 wherein was the enormous boa-constrictor, 
 which threw a strange light on the old story 
 of Laocoon, seeing that it was as thick as 
 a man's thigh, and could crush a deer to
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 197 
 
 death ; also, in the very next .box at the 
 Haymarket, he had had pointed out to him 
 the pale face and nares acutissimce of Mr 
 Canning. 
 
 As ever, there were deux mondes in Lon- 
 don, le beau et le demi ; and it was not to 
 be expected that a person of Mr Archibald 
 Crump's agility of fancy and eager curiosity 
 should rest content with the open shows 
 of the recognised world, and not seek to 
 explore the strange delights, and perilous 
 mysteries, and deadly charms of the world 
 that lay in mock concealment, and pretended 
 disguise, and artificial shade, looking askance 
 and laughing slyly, like a sun-clad nymph 
 peeping through the leaves of the trees, at 
 the portentous make - believe, and solemn 
 comedy of moral pretence and affected 
 ignorance, enacted over the hedge on the 
 common highway of the world proper. No 
 need was there to leap the hedge, for gaps
 
 198 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 abounded, some insolently open, and more 
 artfully masked. So Crump passed through 
 and entered the shady world, and saw the 
 sun-clad nymph with the mocking laugh ; and 
 looking back to see whereat she laughed, he 
 saw the jest on the other side of the hedge 
 the solemn comedy and he laughed also. 
 
 He was in the middle of an entertaining 
 narrative of some adventures he had had in 
 this department of life, when he was inter- 
 rupted by Muskerry exclaiming, as he rose 
 and went to the window 
 
 " Hold on ! There goes Poloc, I think." 
 
 Crump was not well pleased at the inter- 
 ruption, but concluding that two auditors 
 were better than one for such a choice pas- 
 sage in his experience, he merely remarked 
 
 " You had better call him in." 
 
 Muskerry, however, made no signal, but 
 stood a little distance from the window, as 
 though he wished to see without being seen.
 
 A QUESTION OP COLOURS. 199 
 
 His hands were in his pockets, and soon he 
 began to whistle. 
 
 " Well, what's up ? " enquired Crump, his 
 ever-alert curiosity already a-tiptoe. 
 
 " Come and see," answered Muskerry. 
 
 Crump stepped to the window, and this 
 was what he saw. About a hundred yards 
 down the road was Ralph Poloc in his 
 rough, patched, workaday suit. From the 
 couple of flour - sacks on his left arm, it 
 seemed probable that he was on his way to 
 the mill, that stood in the wood some little 
 distance ahead. Coming towards him with 
 the step of a fawn was a tall young lady, 
 enveloped in a dark-coloured pelisse trimmed 
 with ermine, and wearing a Gainsborough hat. 
 
 " Who is she ? Why, it is " 
 
 " Our Guen. Been for a constitutional, it 
 seems. I think I will walk with her home. 
 
 I didn't know she knew Well, well, 
 
 well ! "
 
 200 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 And Mr Percival Muskerry began to 
 whistle, and danced a few steps of the 
 hornpipe. For it was still snowing, and 
 the road was quite deserted except for the 
 man and the maid ; and when they met, 
 instead of Poloc stepping aside, out of the 
 beaten trail in the snow, to allow the lady 
 to pass, having saluted her with raised hat, 
 he stood his ground, and, first throwing a 
 glance over his shoulder, took her hand 
 which she gave with seeming readiness 
 and not only shook it, but held it in his 
 own full twenty seconds longer than need 
 was. Then, instead of coming on home- 
 wards, the lady faced round and accompanied 
 Poloc towards the mill. This it was that 
 induced Mr Percival Muskerry to foot it 
 nimbly. 
 
 His companion, with face glued to the 
 window-pane, watched the retreating couple 
 until they rounded the curve in the road,
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 201 
 
 which hid them from view. Then he drew 
 back into the room, and addressed Mus- 
 kerry with 
 
 " Well, if that isn't something more than 
 a joke, I'll be hanged ! What do you make 
 of it?" 
 
 "A clever hand could make anything of 
 it, but not me. I'm not clever enough by half. 
 I am inclined to fancy, though, that the chief 
 question is, What will they make of it ? " 
 
 "It is outrageous, scandalous, infamous!" 
 cried Crump, his deep-set black eyes, over- 
 shadowed by thick black eyebrows that were 
 now crumpled by a heavy frown into a 
 single line of forbidding aspect, gleaming 
 in their deep sockets like the eyes of an 
 enraged bear. 
 
 "You seem to take it badly, old man. 
 What is the trouble ? " enquired Muskerry. 
 
 " A fellow like him ! A ploughman ! A 
 mule-driver ! By heaven ! if she were my
 
 202 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 relative, I would horsewhip him for his 
 insolence." 
 
 Muskerry gave a light whistle that might 
 have meant a dozen things, ere he answered, 
 " ' Ploughman ' is fair enough and true 
 enough ; but ' mule - driver,' that's below 
 the belt. And whatever he is in the line 
 of occupation, confound it, in the line of 
 birth, you know, Crump, he's a Proud Poloc. 
 As for the horsewhip well, I hope I am 
 not a coward, but if it should suddenly 
 change hands, as it most likely would in 
 a scuffle, the whipping would probably all 
 fall to my share. After all, why should 
 I have a finger in the pie?" 
 
 This was said with such a lightness of 
 tone and air of irresponsibility, that Crump 
 instinctively felt that it would be slightly 
 ridiculous in him to roll any more huge 
 billows of indignation, so long as the lady's 
 kinsman, who stood to her in a brother's
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 203 
 
 stead, thought that a half-inch hose would 
 meet the occasion. Accordingly, though 
 his anger was still hot, his tone was less 
 tragic when he said 
 
 "That is all very well; but the thing 
 ought to be put a stop to. Your father, 
 who is her natural and legal guardian, at 
 least ought to know about it." 
 
 " Then you had better tell him, since 
 you seem to take such an interest in her 
 welfare. Though I am afraid it is all 
 thrown away on her." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked 
 Crump, shooting a keen glance at his 
 companion. 
 
 " Nothing, except that she is her own mis- 
 tress, and she knows it. And I don't feel 
 that she would thank either of us for med- 
 dling with what doesn't concern us. Come 
 to that, there is nothing to it. A mere whim 
 of hers, or at worst a bit of a flirtation."
 
 204 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 But this failed to mollify Crump. He 
 glunched and gloomed and spat out some 
 hot oaths. 
 
 " I hate a fellow to be so green," he ex- 
 claimed, almost savagely. 
 
 "As far as colours go, I prefer green to 
 yellow any day ; and you are like a butter- 
 cup. To-morrow you will have a fit of the 
 blues. The united colours will then form 
 a degree of greenness peculiar to some con- 
 ditions of youth, and always an interesting 
 study to superior persons, like myself." 
 
 To which Crump made no reply, but sat 
 glaring at the fire for some minutes in 
 silence. 
 
 "I would give something to know how 
 long this has been going on," he said, at 
 length. 
 
 " I don't know, but I should guess some 
 time, from the way in which he held her 
 hand," said Muskerry, laughing.
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 205 
 
 Crump saw nothing in Poloc's conduct 
 to laugh at, but, on the contrary, he con- 
 demned him in abbreviated Latin. 
 
 "Within the last three months, I have 
 met him twice within half a mile of our 
 place. And I am inclined to think I passed 
 him one night, not long since, close to the 
 shrubbery. It was dark at the time, and I 
 did not recognize his voice, but it was his 
 figure, now I think of it." 
 
 Muskerry seemed to take a wicked pleas- 
 ure in recalling these incidents, and he 
 looked at Crump with an amused expression 
 to see their effect upon him. Their glances 
 met, arid Crump read the peculiar anxiety 
 that was written, without any attempt at 
 concealment, on his companion's face. He 
 smiled grimly, and remarked with an orac- 
 ular air 
 
 " Ah, well, we shall see what we shall see." 
 
 A little later, Guenilda Muskerry went
 
 206 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 by, evidently oppressed with no sense of 
 sin or shame, judging from her free, graceful 
 carriage. They both saw her, and her cousin 
 rose to his feet, lazily, and said 
 
 " I suppose it is my duty to see her safely 
 home in these days of danger and tempta- 
 tion. Happen she will have another gentle- 
 man of the plough awaiting her the other 
 end of the village. Glad you are back 
 again, old man. Good-day." 
 
 "Good-day, my philosopher. Don't for- 
 get to lock the stable-door as soon as you 
 find out the mare's stolen ! " called out 
 Crump, as Muskerry stood for a second 
 under the porch, turning up his coat-collar. 
 There runs a knowing proverb that, Debajo 
 de ruin capa yace buen bebedor Under a 
 shabby cloak may be found a good drinker ; 
 the corollary being that a heavy countenance 
 may conceal a light heart. Crump's heart 
 was certainly not sad, though his face was
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 207 
 
 anything but merry, as he drew a chair 
 near to the window and kept his glance 
 down the road. 
 
 The advantages of having a father, rich 
 and liberal with his money, are obvious to 
 every young fellow who is not a blockhead. 
 Crump, who was no blockhead, had such a 
 father; nevertheless, uppermost in Crump's 
 mind just now was the terrible disadvan- 
 tage under which he laboured in having such 
 a father. He was not thinking now of 
 stearin, palmitin, and olein ; nor of the 
 many difficulties his respected parent found 
 in dealing, as a squire should, with the 
 king's English ; nor yet of sundry manner- 
 isms and habitudes that were a little foreign 
 to young Oxford's ideal of the country gen- 
 tleman. These merited and recei\*ed a 
 frequent and painful consideration ; but at 
 the present moment the theme of discontent 
 was of a different nature.
 
 208 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 The elder Crump was one of that let us 
 hope old-fashioned breed of sires who 
 thought that their own career was a suffi- 
 ciently good model to be copied by their 
 offspring, with slavish fidelity. As it hap- 
 pened, he was just turned twenty-two when 
 he first fell in love, and he married when he 
 was twenty-five ; and these two accidents he 
 had the audacity to exalt into acts of delib- 
 erate and consummate wisdom. This was 
 bad enough, in all truth, but he proceeded 
 to do worse. 
 
 He laid it down as a law of the Medes and 
 the Persians, that his lad Archie was not to 
 speak a word of serious love to any living 
 girl until he had turned two-and-twenty ; 
 nor was he to think of marrying till he was 
 twenty-five. Penalty the awful testamen- 
 tary shilling. Ac vinclis et career e frcenat. 
 This was hard on Crump junior, and gave 
 him a sense of bondage which bred rebel-
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 209 
 
 lion. For Crump was only just turned one- 
 and-twenty, and meanwhile Guenilda Mus- 
 kerry eighteen, lovable, and marriageable 
 hung like the morning star on his near 
 horizon, and he could only worship afar, 
 and then, as it were, with but one eye, 
 the other being required to look over his 
 shoulder, lest the man with the shilling 
 should loom in sight. 
 
 Hitherto, like a dutiful son, Crump had 
 respected the parental injunction, and had 
 refrained from making love to Guenilda. He 
 drew a nice distinction, however, between 
 making love to a girl, and letting a girl see 
 as a simple fact in nature that So-and-so was 
 in love with her. Seeing that a man could 
 not control his sentiments only the expres- 
 sion of them, the commandment itself sim- 
 ply ran, Thou shalt not make love until thou 
 hast turned two-and-twenty years. Given 
 a tree and the lady beneath it, was it in 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 210 THE BULL f TH* THOB2T. 
 
 the bond that he might not stand in front 
 and soliloquize? That he might not apos- 
 trophize the tree in the language of tender 
 passion? That were absurd, being equiva- 
 lent to saying that a man could not com- 
 mune aloud with his own heart, or even 
 talk with his dog. No, it was not in the 
 bond, decided Crump. Acting on this deci- 
 sion, when in the girl's company he had 
 projected his sentiment a number of times 
 on to various pieces of the landscape fur- 
 niture, and hung trees and rocks with im- 
 ages of his passion. Guenilda herself would 
 have declared he had never breathed to her 
 a syllable of love. Yet she knew that he 
 loved her, and, as she said, whn he came 
 near to her she shuddered. Of these two 
 facts, the first was known to Crump, and 
 the second was not. How was he likely to 
 know anything so monstrous, so insulting? 
 Shudder at his approach!
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOURS. 211 
 
 Was Crump an ogre, then ? Let him show 
 himself. Five feet ten inches he measures 
 without his boots; his frame is muscular 
 and well - knit ; his mouth is his father's, 
 large and firm, very firm ; while his eyes 
 might have been Lady Poloc's, so bright 
 and black and bold are they. Having 
 thrown off his furred topcoat, one may see 
 for himself how well he looks in his single- 
 breast blue coat, with long waist and brass 
 buttons of newest design, his swandown 
 waistcoat, white corduroys, buttoned in front 
 over the shin-bone, and joined by the long 
 tops of his fashionably short boots ; not to 
 omit the dainty cravat of spotted muslin, 
 and the famous belcher handkerchief. A 
 well - dressed gentlemanlike kind of ogre, 
 with nothing of the ploughman and mule- 
 driver about him. 
 
 What was there about him for any girl to 
 shudder at ? His breath was sweet, his teeth
 
 212 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 were white, his nose was straight, his man- 
 ners were good, and his voice could murmur 
 soft words softly with the best of lady-killers. 
 Guenilda Muskerry said that he was not a 
 good man, and hence the shudder. What 
 was it not to be a Good Man ? Did it mean 
 that he was a Bad Man ? That he was an 
 ogre ? Who can tell ? Of one thing, how- 
 ever, we may be quite sure to wit, that 
 when the Guenildas of the race say of a 
 man, He is not a Good Man, it is time for the 
 gentleman to cast about for a locus pceni- 
 tentice, wherein to fast and pray and cover 
 his body with sackcloth and his head with 
 ashes, for his moral health is badly impaired, 
 as sure as bones are bones. 
 
 That Guenilda Muskerry could seriously 
 care for a penniless ploughman like Poloc, 
 seemed incredible to Crump ; but his funda- 
 mental contempt for the resisting power of a 
 woman's heart exposed to masculine bland-
 
 A QUESTION OF COLOUBS. 213 
 
 isliments, a contempt that was the outcome 
 of a rake's experience, induced him to regard 
 in a serious light the degree of familiarity 
 existing between Poloc and Mistress Guen- 
 ilda. To himself, he had not the hardi- 
 hood to deny that Poloc possessed certain 
 physical attractions which were denied to 
 himself. In an antiquarian, historical, and 
 genealogical sense, Poloc attached to himself, 
 unquestionably, a profound interest, fascin- 
 ating and romantic. And there was danger 
 that Guenilda Muskerry would be extremely 
 susceptible to an interest that made almost 
 a religious and semi-spiritual appeal to her 
 historic imagination. 
 
 On the other hand, and as a fair offset, 
 Crump stood with both feet on hard, current, 
 actual facts. The world that is, ever takes 
 precedence of the world that was. The Past 
 can never successfully compete with the Pre- 
 sent. Poloc was of the past. Crump was of
 
 214 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 the present. The Polocs had had their day 
 ay, their year, their century, wellnigh their 
 millennium. To-day the Crumps held the 
 field. And unless she was a fool, Mistress 
 Guenilda would prefer the strong to-day over 
 the broken yesterday. Musing in this wise, 
 Crump paced the room, with folded arms 
 and frowning face. In about half an hour, 
 Poloc came along, and Crump tapped on 
 the window and beckoned him in.
 
 215 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 
 
 POLOC looked at the window and shook his 
 head, and kept on his way, with the air of 
 one busy with his own thoughts. Crump 
 came out to the porch and called out, in a 
 tone of reproach 
 
 " Well, aren't you going to say, How do 
 you do ? to a fellow, after he has been away 
 as far as London ? " 
 
 Poloc stopped short. He had quite for- 
 gotten, for the time being, that Crump had 
 been away in town. He came forward and 
 shook hands with him, saying 
 
 " I am glad to see you back again safe and
 
 216 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 sound. I was so busy thinking, when you 
 called me, I never thought it was you. 
 When did you get back ? " 
 
 " Came by the mail to-day ; haven't been 
 home yet. Come in for a few minutes, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 Not to seem churlish or distant, Poloc 
 went in. Yet it went a little against the 
 grain to do so, for the reason that just now 
 he was living a very strenuous life of thought 
 and feeling in a world of his own. And 
 somehow, it seemed like passing from severe 
 and lofty harmony to vulgar discord, to quit 
 the world of his imagination for the round of 
 frivolous materialities in which Crump's talk 
 would soon involve him. It was always so 
 when he had been with Guenilda. She 
 touched his spirit with something of her own 
 selectness, and austere dignity, and spiritual 
 niceness. She evoked in him a responsive 
 elevation of sentiment and nobility of tone ;
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 217 
 
 physically, lie carried himself half an inch 
 higher for hours after he had left her. He 
 had, moreover, other reasons to-day for de- 
 siring to be left to his own thoughts. 
 
 Guenilda Muskerry for the first time had, 
 to-day, succeeded in driving home a thought 
 that was almost as painful as it was fearfully 
 delicious, and which filled Poloc's heart and 
 brain with a strange tumult. This was 
 nothing less than her willingness, nay, her 
 determination to take him at his word and 
 go with him to Gretna Green, rather than 
 allow him to go from her to seek his fortune. 
 He had made the proposition in the spirit of 
 sadness, and as a kind of bitter jest ; a rough 
 barrier between his resolve and her impor- 
 tunity. But as he held to his resolve based 
 on good and sufficient reason that column 
 of true dignity in man, she refused to let 
 go his jest, and made wise with charming 
 wilfulness to see in it nothing of jest or
 
 218 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 barrier. In their chance meeting to-day 
 they had reached a final decision. For 
 weal or woe they were to be man and wife 
 ere the already expiring year was dead ! 
 Weighted with such new and burning 
 thoughts of destiny, small wonder was it 
 that Ralph Poloc entered with reluctance 
 the parlour at the "Leather Bottle." 
 
 Said Crump, after the landlady had served 
 them and retired, closing the door after her 
 
 " Poloc, there's something I wanted to 
 have a word with you about. I think there 
 is an apology due to you, and I am here to 
 pay it. Of course you know what I refer 
 to?" 
 
 Poloc shook his head, and kept his eyes 
 on the glowing logs. " No, I can't say that 
 I do," he added. 
 
 " I refer to the offer which my father 
 made you of a situation at the Hall. 
 Though, of course, if you didn't mind it,
 
 DKAWING DRY FOOT. 219 
 
 there isn't much use in saying anything 
 about it." 
 
 " I think Lady Poloc my mother said 
 it was a groom your father wanted ? " 
 
 li Yes. The place is filled now, I believe." 
 
 " The Squire thought the place would suit 
 me?" 
 
 " I guess so. He is a rum old fish, you 
 know, at times." 
 
 " And you think he owes me an apology, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Well, yes. That is, if you minded it at 
 all. If we cut a fellow, the least we can do 
 is to offer him a bit of diachylon." 
 
 " I see. No, I did not mind it a fig. 
 Why should I? But I am apt to think, 
 Crump, all the same, now we are on the 
 subject, that the man who could offer Ralph 
 Poloc a groomship, couldn't offer him an 
 apology which it would not be degradation 
 to accept."
 
 220 THE BULL l' Tfl' THORN. 
 
 Poloc looked straight in his companion's 
 eyes, as he spoke with a quiet self-possession 
 and calm dignity that lent sharpness and 
 momentum to his words. 
 
 Crump's eyes shot fire, and his sallow face 
 grew red. For some little time he was 
 silent ; then he said, with a hard laugh 
 
 " After all, you did mind it then, it seems. 
 When he wrote and told me what he had 
 done, I sat straight down and wrote him 
 a pretty sharp letter. I said it was a con- 
 founded insult to offer you. He swears he 
 did it thoughtlessly, and without the least 
 intention of hurting your feelings. And I 
 believe him." 
 
 This was biting the thumb at truth with a 
 vengeance ; for it so happened that it was 
 Crump himself who had persuaded the Squire 
 that Poloc would probably be only too glad 
 to accept the situation of groom. Asked his 
 reason for doing so, he would have answered
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 221 
 
 that it was a joke ; which would have been 
 superficially true. But below the joke there 
 was a spirit of cruelty, of insolence, and of 
 envy and jealousy. To snub a poor, proud 
 Poloc, was a form of amusement in which he 
 was quite ready to indulge surreptitiously, 
 but which his love of a whole skin prevented 
 him doing openly. Just now he would have 
 liked to show off a bit, and resent the keen 
 contempt of Poloc ; but a moment's reflec- 
 tion had convinced him that he would lose 
 more than he would gain by a quarrel. If 
 he was to get to the bottom of this Guenilda 
 business, it was obviously his cue to mollify 
 Poloc. So he bit his thumb at truth, with- 
 out the slightest twinge of conscience. 
 
 Answered Poloc, " If he says so, I too will 
 believe him. I would rather think he was 
 a fool than a knave." 
 
 At this, Crump's rage rose up within him 
 with the sensation of a gaseous fume, and
 
 222 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 to hide it he broke out into a loud harsh 
 laugh. 
 
 " Come, come, Poloc, that's not bad. I 
 wish the governor could have heard it. He 
 would have thought more than ever that 
 adversity had failed to tame the proud 
 Polocs. But time will work wonders yet, 
 my dear fellow. But there, let us forget all 
 about it. A wretched blunder shouldn't be 
 allowed to spoil friendship. Now, old man, 
 out with the secret. Who was she ? " 
 
 This sudden turn caused Poloc's eyes to 
 open. 
 
 " Now, come," continued Crump, " don't 
 look so innocent. Who was she ? I ask. " 
 
 "Who was who?" 
 
 " Well, I happened to be at the window, 
 and it strikes me I saw you just turning the 
 bend down the road, in company with a fine- 
 stepping girl. You were gone all too soon, 
 but I should know her again."
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 223 
 
 " Do you think so ? Happen she was a 
 stranger round here," said Poloc, with a 
 sense of relief that Crump had not recog- 
 nised Guenilda, whom evidently he had also 
 not seen on her way back. 
 
 " Oh, that is all gammon. I judge she 
 was some pretty farmer's daughter or other. 
 Is it to the tune of Light o' Love, eh ? " 
 
 " No, I'll leave you to step it to that tune. 
 You seem to think that is the only music 
 worth playing to women." 
 
 " Egad ! I know one thing they like it. 
 But, Poloc, there's no more truth in thee 
 than in a drawn fox. I can draw dry foot 
 though, old man, as well as any hound, and 
 I shall run the game to earth yet. Nay, 
 what is your hurry ? " 
 
 " I must be getting on home. There is 
 work waiting to be done," said Poloc, rising 
 to his feet. 
 
 " Well, before you go, just answer one
 
 224 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 question : Was it really Miss Guenilda Mus- 
 kerry, or did my eyes deceive me ? " 
 
 The question fairly staggered Poloc, but 
 he ran his surprise more into his shoulders 
 than his face. With a shrug, he answered 
 
 " The chances are that your eyes deceived 
 you. Eunning to hot scent isn't drawing 
 dry foot. Good afternoon." 
 
 And he was gone, with Crump's laugh of 
 mockery and knowingness ringing in his 
 ears. 
 
 After this, Crump's liking for Poloc grew 
 immensely in root and branch, and hardly a 
 day went by without him seeking his com- 
 pany. It did not matter whether Poloc was 
 ploughing, or hauling timber, or cutting fire- 
 wood, or carting with Nick between the 
 shafts, the well-dressed Crump was pretty 
 sure to turn up, and spend an hour chatter- 
 ing on every conceivable subject on which 
 they could have a thought in common. And
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 225 
 
 as often as practicable, Crump would per- 
 suade his dear friend to meet him at the 
 "Leather Bottle," afternoon or evening, as 
 suited Poloc's convenience best. Sometimes, 
 but not often, they were joined by Muskerry. 
 Just now, Crump seemed a little shy with 
 Muskerry, for some reason or other, and 
 found sufficient pleasure in the society of 
 the ploughman and mule-driver. 
 
 Poloc had never known him to be so 
 open, so gracious, so compliant, so ductile, 
 so receptive. He was chagrined at his own 
 profound misjudgment of Crump. He had 
 thought him tainted with insolence, obsequi- 
 ousness, heartlessness, and levity veins that 
 were apt to catch the eye and colour the 
 judgment, to the detraction of the remain- 
 ing mass of his nature. It was of the nature 
 of a revelation to discover that Crump had 
 fine and subtile feelings, strong convictions, 
 together with a group of spiritual aspirations 
 
 VOL. i. P
 
 226 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 and predilections tha.t would have done hon- 
 our to the professionally good man. Poloc 
 was amazed at the unfortunate skilfulness 
 due, no doubt, to an exquisite sensitiveness 
 of soul with which Crump had managed to 
 hide so completely, from the common eye, 
 the true and beautiful light of his character. 
 All this time Crump was drawing dry foot, 
 and hunting counter. But Poloc, against his 
 judgment and his conscience and his heart, 
 and only because he had so promised Guen- 
 ilda, kept his secret to its lair, and would not 
 let it show so much as the quivering tips of 
 its vibrissce. To Crump's thinking, this was 
 nothing less than detestable secretiveness, 
 akin to mean duplicity, on the part of Poloc, 
 which justified him in meeting guile with 
 guile. He told himself, with a fine affecta- 
 tion of personal sincerity, that Poloc was 
 doing him a great moral damage in thus 
 diverting him from his natural course of
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 227 
 
 frankness and loyalty, and driving him to 
 resort to wile and stratagem. But though 
 painful to his honourable feelings, duty was 
 duty; and not without contemptible soph- 
 istry could he pretend to believe that it was 
 not his duty to do his best to part such an 
 ill-assorted couple as Gruenilda Muskerry and 
 Ealph Poloc. 
 
 Whatever superficial and uninformed per- 
 sons may think, there, can be little doubt 
 that nature is secretly inclined towards lofty 
 morality and pure justice ; and that in con- 
 sequence of this secret and profound inclina- 
 tion, circumstances, apparently accidental, 
 capricious, remote, and blind, are cunningly 
 shaped and marshalled so as to lend aid and 
 assistance to the good soul, that is trying to 
 do its duty along the deep and universal 
 lines of rectitude. This happy and elevated 
 belief on which, by the way, Crump had 
 eloquently expatiated one afternoon, for his
 
 228 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 dear friend's benefit was signally illustrated 
 at the very time when Crump was bemoan- 
 ing the sad necessity of playing at diamond 
 cut diamond. 
 
 It chanced one evening, cold and wet, that 
 Crump ascended to the harness-room, think- 
 ing he heard the new groom up there. In 
 this, however, he was mistaken, and he was 
 turning to leave, when his glance was at- 
 tracted by the cheerful blaze of a fire in the 
 groom's room, on the opposite side of the 
 stable - yard. A second glance revealed a 
 situation of unusual interest. The groom 
 was in his room, and with him was a girl 
 with a pretty face, a charming figure, and 
 dressed with marked neatness and taste. 
 They were evidently lovers. Crump was so 
 interested that he brought a stool near to the 
 window, and sat and watched the piquant 
 comedy as seen by the firelight. The maid 
 was coy but not cold, and the man was
 
 DEAWING DRY FOOT. 229 
 
 ardent and bold ; and along these lines the 
 pretty folly ran on all-fours with the stale 
 experience of the race. A brief spell of pas- 
 sion-blown delirium, to be followed by sanity 
 grown big with windy wisdom, mockery, re- 
 proach, and the unspeakable philosophy of- 
 I told you so ! 
 
 The groom who had been employed for 
 some time at Muskerry Park previous to his 
 engagement at the Hall was accosted next 
 morning by Crump, who said 
 
 " Jevons, was that your sweetheart I saw 
 you with last night ? " 
 
 Jevons, having a guilty conscience, assumed 
 the look of innocence as he answered 
 
 " And where might you see us, sir ? " 
 
 At which Crump laughed and said 
 
 " Oh, you were behaving perfectly proper 
 when I saw you. You were crossing the 
 meadow together." 
 
 " Yes, sir, that wor my lass. We've
 
 230 THE BULL l' TH' THOKN. 
 
 walked wi' one another this twelvemonth," 
 answered Jevons, considerably relieved. 
 
 "And you love each other in true Arca- 
 dian fashion, I have no doubt ? " 
 
 "We do that, sir," replied the groom, 
 with a broad grin. 
 
 " Who is she ? I could not see her face, 
 of course, but I thought I ought to know 
 her figure, which, by the way, Jevons, is 
 a remarkably good one." 
 
 " And thank you, sir, seeing as how 
 you're no mean judge of a woman's figure 
 meaning no offence, sir. She knows you, 
 sir, well enough. She is lady's-maid to Miss 
 Muskerry, who thinks a world of her." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; I thought I had seen her before." 
 
 Then Crump began to whistle in a medita- 
 tive way, while the groom stood in a respect- 
 ful attitude awaiting his conge. After a 
 while, Crump came out of his thoughts and 
 said
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 231 
 
 "Come with me, Jevons, into your room. 
 I want to have a private talk with you." 
 
 And with his heart in his boots, Jevons 
 led the way into his chamber. There, out 
 of hand, with skill and nerve did Crump 
 apply moral thumbkins to the luckless 
 groom ; and then he tickled his fancy with 
 a feather from the goose that lays golden 
 eggs, and wound up by greasing his palm 
 with auriferous ointment. The operation 
 was a perfect success. When, in the course 
 of forty minutes, Crump ascended the steep 
 drive that ran from the stables to the Hall, 
 he murmured to himself 
 
 " Master Man Maid Mistress. Ex- 
 tremes meet. On the hinges of man and 
 maid shall yet swing together the great 
 doors of master and mistress. If the knave 
 can only match performance with promise, 
 I will show Mr Mule-driver who can draw 
 dry foot."
 
 232 THE BULL l' TH* THORN. 
 
 The tree thus planted by Crump throve 
 as it had been planted by the rivers of waters, 
 and bore fruit enough and to spare, but the 
 taste thereof was bitter. This was plainly 
 shown by a little incident that occurred one 
 morning about a week later. Breakfast was 
 over at Muskerry Park, and father and son 
 were still at the table. The private letter- 
 bag had just arrived, and the two men were 
 leisurely opening their letters. Suddenly the 
 elder one gave a snort of angry contempt, 
 and followed it up with a well-meant oath. 
 It was a swearing age, but in this particular 
 the old gentleman was above his age and 
 the majority of his equals. 
 
 The young man looked up quickly, remark- 
 ing, "Bad news in the air, one would think." 
 
 " The scoundrel ! If I only had him with- 
 in reach of a horsewhip ! There ! read it, 
 and tell me what you think of it," cried the 
 father, tossing a letter across the table.
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 233 
 
 Muskerry took it, and read as follows : 
 
 " Desembur 9th 1810. 
 "SQUIRE MUSKERRY. 
 
 " ONERED SUR, Appen you dunna know 
 as how your neece is a-carryin' on with a 
 young man as shall be nameless for all his 
 name rimes with poor an' prowd. I herd a 
 woman as I knows well enow for a onest un 
 for all shees a reglar fuzzbag say yester e'en 
 that commun fame as gotten owd o' your 
 neeces good name and is trashin' it in the 
 mud. Your umble an obejunt servunt, 
 
 "A WORD TO THE WISE." 
 
 Muskerry read this anonymous reptilian 
 composition, in the light of a knowledge that 
 was denied his father, and he saw in a mo- 
 ment that it referred to Poloc. His mind, 
 naturally enough, reverted to Crump, and 
 he studied the writing closely for some time.
 
 234 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 At length he threw the letter down with a 
 scornful laugh. 
 
 " Well, sir. and what do you make of it ? " 
 asked the old gentleman, sternly. 
 
 " I should put it in the fire, and think no 
 more about it. That is the only way to deal 
 with such garbage." 
 
 " But what does it mean ? Whom does it 
 refer to ? Hadn't I better have Guenilda in, 
 and hear what she has to say about it ? It 
 has quite upset me." 
 
 " No, I don't think you ought to trouble 
 Guen with the wretched thing. Goodness 
 knows what it means, except that somebody 
 round about here is a mean cur. If our Guen 
 cannot be trusted to take care of her own 
 and our good name, I am out of my reck- 
 oning." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Percival that is true, quite 
 true. I have every confidence in Guenilda. 
 But well, sir, she is only a woman, and a
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 235 
 
 young one at that. And the very best of 
 girls sometimes " He paused as if unwill- 
 ing to put his thoughts into words. 
 
 Said the son " I do not know that there 
 would be any harm done by your looking 
 after her a bit, and having a sort of fatherly 
 talk with her. Not because of this vile 
 scrawl ; no, by George ! I have thought for 
 some time that she was worth a little more 
 attention than she gets from you." 
 
 Muskerry spoke with the air of a man of 
 the world, seasoned in the wisdom of life, 
 rich in the philosophy born of wide expe- 
 rience. 
 
 His father looked at him with open eyes. 
 " A Daniel come to judgment ! " he mur- 
 mured with milky irony. He added, " I am 
 not sure but what you are right, my son. 
 You have no idea who could have written 
 this?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. The spelling, I think,
 
 236 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 is an artifice, and the hand is of course dis- 
 guised. It looks, oddly enough, like Archie 
 Crump's hand, though of course " 
 
 ".Tut, tut ! You might as well shh ! " 
 
 There was a sudden rustle of petticoats, 
 and the next moment the half-closed door 
 hard by was pushed open, and Guenilda came 
 in. Her colour was deeper than usual, and 
 her glorious eyes held a light beautiful as 
 strange. 
 
 "Well, dear uncle, and what do you find 
 in your letters this morning to keep you at 
 the table so long ? " she asked, smiling sweet- 
 ly, with a certain grave lightness of tone and 
 bearing that lent to her a quaint dignity that 
 was very charming, in the eyes and ears of 
 the white-headed old gentleman who now 
 removed his gold eye-glasses from his nose, 
 and said, in pleasant voice 
 
 " Ah, niece, niece, you are a very nice girl, 
 but I wish you had been a boy instead ! "
 
 DRAWING DRY FOOT. 237 
 
 The anonymous letter - writer is always 
 a coward, and generally a knave to boot. 
 When not an actual, he is always a potential 
 liar, shrinking from no falsehood to avoid 
 detection. Crump had fallen to the base 
 level of a writer of anonymous letters. Of 
 course he fell back upon his conscience such 
 gentry are always strong in conscience at 
 what time they had need have none and as- 
 sumed a high moral attitude. His sense of 
 duty was heroic and sublime. Had he been 
 girded from before his birth to fight the 
 World, the Flesh, and the Devil all rolled into 
 one, he could not have poised himself more 
 bravely. Being capable of the act, it follows 
 that he was incapable of judging its real 
 quality. In which truth there surely lurks 
 an element of apology available for all the 
 miserably erring tribe. 
 
 Putting two and two together, Muskerry 
 imbibed just the faintest suspicion of Crump.
 
 238 THE BULL l' TH 5 THORN. 
 
 It was more a haunting suggestion than 
 anything else, but it was quite enough to 
 make him unhappy. When he met Crump 
 a few days later, he said straight out 
 
 " Crump, my father has had an anony- 
 mous letter. Do you know anything about 
 it?" 
 
 " An anonymous letter, eh ? What the 
 deuce should I know about it? What was 
 it about? Some maiden all forlorn who 
 wishes, too late, she had never been born? 
 Be sure your sins will find you out, old man," 
 quoth Crump, with great good-humour. 
 
 "It is nothing to laugh about, I can tell 
 you. It referred to Guenilda. I should be 
 glad of a direct answer, old fellow. Did you 
 write it, send it, cause it to be written or 
 sent? Do you know anything or nothing 
 about it?" 
 
 There was that in Muskerry's tone that 
 caused Crump to hesitate a little. Then he
 
 . DRAWING DRY FOOT. 239 
 
 looked his companion in the face, and said, 
 solemnly 
 
 " I know nothing about it." 
 
 " You mean that ? On your word of hon- 
 our ? " 
 
 " On my word of honour ! Damme ! you 
 are a bit rough, I take it," said Crump, snap- 
 pishly. 
 
 " I am only too glad to ask your forgive- 
 ness for ever even fearing you might have 
 been tempted to do such a vile thing. You 
 see, old fellow, if you really had done it, I 
 should have had to horsewhip you, if it had 
 cost me my life. I could have nothing to 
 do with the scoundrel who could do a thing 
 like that. Gentlemen with gentlemen. Kep- 
 tiles with reptiles. Give me your hand. 
 You don't know what a relief it is ! " 
 
 " Oh, I'm not a fellow to bear malice," 
 said Crump, as he took Muskerry's hand, and 
 took and gave a hearty shake.
 
 240 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 For all that, the mighty subterranean force 
 of Hate awoke that moment in his soul, and 
 divided him for ever from Muskerry, by a 
 chasm without bridge or bottom. It stung 
 him terribly to think that Muskerry should 
 hold as something despicable, what he him- 
 self regarded as nothing worse than a vulgar 
 artifice. As for the lie he had told upon his 
 honour, he admitted to himself that it was 
 awkward and regrettable ; but inasmuch as 
 he would have been a fool to have owned up, 
 it followed that he was perfectly justified in 
 prevaricating. In short, his ethical system 
 had the obvious merit of elasticity and self- 
 adjustment, without which qualities a system 
 of ethics is sure to breed austerity, bigotry, 
 and fanaticism. 
 
 But the man who had driven him to as- 
 sume this attitude of sophistry and defiant 
 self-justification was not so much Muskerry 
 as Poloc Poloc, who was always crossing
 
 DBA WING DRY FOOT. 241 
 
 his path in one way or another. To hate 
 Poloc was no irksome task, and it soon 
 became a fierce delight. Moreover, Crump 
 had the consolation of knowing that his 
 letter had borne fruit. 
 
 Guenilda was no longer left to herself, but 
 of a sudden found herself the object of her 
 uncle's untiring devotion. He rode, walked, 
 talked, and played draughts with her, and 
 seemed unhappy when she was out of his 
 sight. What in the world she would have 
 done, at this time when she found it impos- 
 sible to see Poloc, without the aid of her 
 maid the nimble, witty, honest, pretty, and 
 altogether good Lucy she did not know. 
 She found it necessary to take the girl into 
 her confidence, and trust her with letters, 
 messages, and like matters of high state. 
 
 The first time the two lovers met after 
 what seemed a fearfully long separation, 
 Guenilda told Poloc of the few words she 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 242 THE BULL l' TH' THOKN. 
 
 had overheard her cousin and uncle say at 
 the breakfast-table. 
 
 "Kalph, dearest, beware of Archibald 
 Crump. I feel sure he is your enemy," she 
 said, very seriously. 
 
 But Poloc laughed incredulously, and said, 
 " Enemy or no enemy, I think I know him 
 well enough now to say, he would never do 
 such a contemptible thing as that."
 
 243 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A MAD WAGER. 
 
 THERE were attics innumerable under the 
 roofs of the " Bull i' th' Thorn," and into 
 one of the most remote of these entered 
 Poloc, candle in hand, early one evening 
 about the middle of the month. He was 
 supposed to be out for the evening, by his 
 mother and father ; but though he had left 
 the house half an hour earlier, he had re- 
 entered it by one of the several means of 
 ingress known only to himself. The attic in 
 question was a small room, very low, with 
 heavy thick rafters overhead, and a pile of 
 old lumber heaped up along the low side of
 
 244 THE BULL l' TH J THOKN. 
 
 the chamber, until it touched the roof. Put- 
 ting the rusty tin candlestick upon the floor, 
 Poloc attacked the pile of miscellaneous 
 debris in the middle, and in a few minutes 
 had opened a narrow passage that reached 
 back to the wall. There, carefully stowed 
 away in a deep recess, he found what 
 apparently he was in search of a small 
 wooden trunk painted green, locked, corded, 
 and sealed. 
 
 Poloc brought it out from its hiding-place 
 and set it on the open floor; and when he 
 had broken the seal, removed the cords, 
 and unlocked it, instead of opening it he 
 stood erect, with bended head and folded 
 arms and knitted brows, gazing at the dust- 
 covered trunk, like one who paused, irreso- 
 lute, on the brink of some desperate deed. 
 Presently, with a deep sigh, he sank on one 
 knee, and, lifting up the lid, balanced there- 
 on the candlestick, by which means he got a
 
 A MAD WAGER. 245 
 
 tallow-dip view of the interior of the box. 
 He removed the layer of paper on the top ; 
 and then with pious care did Poloc proceed 
 to empty the trunk, placing the contents, as 
 he extracted them one at a time, on the piece 
 of paper on the floor. 
 
 First there came a court dress his grand- 
 father's ; next, a white silk waistcoat magnifi- 
 cently embroidered, a pair of silver-mounted 
 pistols, a dagger with a golden haft in which 
 were sunk two fine rubies, a pair of lady's 
 slippers of the seventeenth century, a bundle 
 of parchments with seals on them as large 
 as saucers, a broken sword, a silver drinking- 
 cup of the fourteenth century curiously en- 
 graved and bearing the Poloc arms, a silver 
 cream -ewer with the same arms ; and finally, 
 wrapped round with a double layer of flannel 
 and purple silk, was a small plaque of solid 
 gold, bearing in the centre a medallion por- 
 trait of Henry VIII. , surmounted by the
 
 246 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 royal arms. This had been given to one of 
 Poloc's ancestors by Henry, the king, himself. 
 These few things were all that remained 
 of the former treasures of the Polocs. To 
 the dimensions of this handful of heirlooms, 
 had shrunk the greatness that had once 
 stretched from shire to shire. Seven hun- 
 dred years of growth and husbandry, of 
 dignity and honour, of wealth and power, 
 and the result nothing but a few relics in a 
 wooden box painted green. But, by the 
 same token, those few heirlooms were no 
 baubles in the eyes of Sir Kalph Poloc. 
 Compared with their sanctity, the holiest 
 relic in Christendom was unconsecrate as a 
 bone in a kennel ; while their value, like 
 that of wisdom, was beyond the price of 
 rubies. Her ladyship, also, held them as 
 objects of a semi - religious character, and 
 she would just as soon have committed sacri- 
 lege as made away with the least of them.
 
 A MAD WAGER. 247 
 
 Poloc put on one side the pistols, dagger, 
 cream-ewer, drinking-cup, and plaque, and 
 returned the other articles to the box, which 
 he locked and corded and replaced in the 
 recess, piling up again the old lumber in 
 front. He examined carefully the pieces 
 he had left out, and after some time he 
 proceeded to secrete each piece among the 
 rafters, out of sight but within easy reach. 
 Then he blew out the candle, and made his 
 way out as noiselessly as he had entered, 
 and went through the village in the direc- 
 tion of Muskerry Park. 
 
 His head throbbed with fiery pain, and 
 his heart was heavy as lead. The greatest 
 trouble of his life was upon him, and to 
 crown all he had a strong nervous con- 
 sciousness of criminality. He was about 
 to do a thing that smacked, to his think- 
 ing, of sacrilege, of crime, of dishonour. 
 This was not his judgment, but his senti-
 
 248 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 ment. His reason, cold and critical and 
 passionless, backed him indeed. But his 
 sentiment, full-coloured, rich and warm, and 
 a humaner and more vital part of his being 
 than dry reason, accused him in accents of 
 reproach that cut him to the quick. Yet 
 what could he do ? Here he was on the eve 
 of an elopement and a long journey north- 
 wards with no money in his pocket. 
 
 Guenilda, though mistress of half of her 
 fortune, had always left everything in her 
 uncle's hands. Punctually, on each quarter- 
 day, her uncle paid into her hands fifty 
 pounds. Of her last quarterage, she had now 
 just twenty-one left ; and under the circum- 
 stances, both she and Poloc felt that it would 
 be folly for her to ask her uncle for more. 
 The anonymous letter had rendered that im- 
 practicable. How long after their marriage 
 they would have to wait, before Gruenilda 
 could legally get possession of her own,
 
 A MAD WAGER. 249 
 
 neither of them knew. One thing, however, 
 was certain, money must be got from some- 
 where for immediate purposes. A little 
 while ago, Poloc would have braced himself 
 up to ask Crump to lend him fifty pounds ; 
 but, somehow, he could not do that now. 
 Not that he for a moment believed that 
 Crump had anything to do with the anony- 
 mous letter, but Guenilda did, and that set- 
 tled the matter as far as asking him to lend 
 money went. 
 
 In his utter perplexity, Poloc saw but one 
 gleam of hope, and that baleful and sicken- 
 ing. It shone from the precious heirlooms. 
 In the county town he knew a jeweller who 
 dealt in similar antiques, and who would 
 doubtless be only too glad to lend fifty 
 pounds on the gold and silver pieces. It 
 would only be for a few months at most, and 
 with prudence there was no reason why Sir 
 Ralph should ever dream that the priceless
 
 250 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 relics were not safe in the attic. Still the 
 reflection, that he was about to do what 
 would fill his father with unspeakable agony 
 and dismay, should he ever discover it, was 
 enough to make Poloc wretched to a degree. 
 There was, indeed, another hope just bud- 
 ding, and liable to be nipped with the frost 
 of disappointment. Guenilda had written to 
 a friend, to whom she had lent a hundred 
 pounds, asking her if she could repay her 
 in whole or in part. Guenilda would have 
 heard by now, and it was to learn the out- 
 come that Poloc was now on his way to a 
 certain group of black rocks not far from 
 Muskerry Park, where the nimble and alto- 
 gether good Lucy was in the habit of de- 
 positing delicately tinted envelopes, redolent 
 of perfume, faint and ravishing. 
 
 When he arrived at the spot, Poloc found 
 just such an envelope lying snug and close 
 in a chink in a rock. As he had no means
 
 A MAD WAGER. 251 
 
 of reading it until he came within range 
 of some cottage light or other, he put the 
 letter into his coat-pocket and started back 
 towards home. 
 
 When close to the village, he was over- 
 taken by Muskerry on horseback. 
 
 " Good night ! " said Poloc, as the rider 
 went cantering by. 
 
 " Hallo ! is that you, Poloc ? " 
 
 " Yes. I guessed it was you from your 
 horse's step. Going far ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no. I promised Crump I would 
 spend an hour or two with him at the 
 'Leather Bottle' this evening. Aren't you 
 coming ? " 
 
 " No, I think not. I believe I half pro- 
 mised Crump I would, but I don't feel like 
 it to-night. I have a nasty head, for one 
 thing." 
 
 But Muskerry did his best to persuade 
 him, and Poloc finally consented, thinking
 
 252 THE BULL I* TH' THORN. 
 
 to himself that perhaps it was wise policy 
 to show himself as much as possible just 
 now. At the " Leather Bottle," Muskerry 
 rode his nag into the stable - yard, and 
 Poloc seized the opportunity of reading 
 Guenilda's letter, by the light of the oil- 
 lamp that swung in the porch. A glance 
 was sufficient to show him that the bud- 
 ding hope was in truth nipped, and that 
 Guenilda's plan had failed. There was 
 nothing for it now but to borrow on the 
 security of the heirlooms. 
 
 A great wave of sickness swept over 
 Poloc, as he put up the letter and then 
 entered the inn parlour. 
 
 "You look deucedly pale, old man," ex- 
 claimed Crump, as he shook Poloc warmly 
 by the hand. 
 
 " Do I ? Well, I will try what a hot drink 
 will do for me," said Poloc, with a strange 
 hard laugh as he pulled the bell-cord.
 
 A MAD WAGER. 253 
 
 With pipe and glass, Crump's inexhausti- 
 ble reminiscences of Town life, war echoes, 
 occasional songs, and the manifold talk that 
 circled round the deep rich and familiar 
 theme of country life, the evening sped 
 along at that nimble pace affected by cheer- 
 ful careless Mirth, in her less boisterous 
 moods. 
 
 Suddenly, the outside stillness was broken 
 by the sound of rumbling wheels, and the 
 heavy beat of horses' feet. From the 
 multitudinous thunder of hoofs, one could 
 gather that it was no ordinary post-chaise 
 that was coming along. Impelled by a 
 common instinct of curiosity, all three 
 sprang to their feet and left the room. 
 They had barely got into the porch when 
 a heavy yellow - bodied chariot, hung on 
 leathern springs and drawn by six horses, 
 came rattling up, and halted opposite the 
 inn. Then in a flash, as from the bowels
 
 254 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 of the earth, appeared the ostler and stable- 
 boy with buckets and lanthorns in hand; 
 they were joined with equal celerity by 
 one of the postilions, and in a very little 
 time the horses were watered, and the 
 stately chariot with its couple of flaring 
 lamps rumbled off into the darkness. The 
 three men re-entered the parlour. 
 
 "I don't envy the Duke his ten-mile of 
 a drive home," said Muskerry, warming his 
 hands at the fire. 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't mind taking his place, 
 seeing that the Duchess was inside. Lovely 
 creature that, if you like ! " observed Crump. 
 
 "And as good as she is beautiful," re- 
 marked Poloc. 
 
 " Good, eh ? Oh yes, very good, the 
 darling! I have been in Town, you know, 
 Poloc, and one picks up a thing or two 
 there. All I have got to say is when I 
 am an old Duke, catch me marrying a young
 
 A MAD WAGER. 255 
 
 beauty! And the old duffer thinks she is 
 the very model of " 
 
 " It is to be hoped they won't meet the 
 man with a sorrel mare and a yellow-lined 
 cloak," interrupted Muskerry, who saw that 
 Crump's tongue was a bit loose. 
 
 " No fear of that ; he hasn't shown him- 
 self round here this five years. The war 
 has put an end to those gentry," responded 
 Crump. 
 
 " I am not so sure of that. Why, it was 
 only last year that the mail was stopped 
 and robbed this side York," put in Poloc. 
 
 And so the topic was started that appealed 
 so strongly to the imaginations, and not in- 
 frequently to the startled memories, of our 
 dear old great-grandmothers, and fathers in 
 the same degree. There followed an argu- 
 ment that ran like a crafty fox at first, and 
 then like the same animal when he finds 
 that craft is of no avail, only speed and
 
 256 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 bottom, and the hunt grows hot behind 
 him. 
 
 "You think he could be stopped in his 
 own grounds, do you? I'll bet you what 
 you like he couldn't." It was Crump that 
 spoke, and his face was flushed. 
 
 " All right. But who is to prove it ? " 
 answered Poloc, and his eyes were unusually 
 bright. 
 
 " I thought you said that you could ? " 
 said Crump, with a touch of irony. 
 
 "Happen I did, and I stick to it. But I 
 could do a lot of things that I don't intend 
 to, all the same," answered Poloc, laughing. 
 
 " I should say not. Bonaparte ! but you 
 surely did not think Poloc meant to actually 
 prove his point, did you ? " cried Muskerry. 
 
 ' No, I'll be hanged if I ever thought he 
 would ! " exclaimed Crump, and his tone lent 
 a keen edge to his words. 
 
 Poloc kept his brow clear and his tongue
 
 A MAD WAGER. 257 
 
 curbed, but he pulled his moustache a little 
 violently. Suddenly, he gave a slight start 
 as an idea crossed his mind. 
 
 " What will you bet me that I do not 
 prove my point?" he enquired, looking at 
 Crump, with a peculiar smile on his face. 
 
 Crump's eyes gave a sudden flash. " I'll 
 bet you two to one three to one four to 
 one five to one six " 
 
 " All right ; the odds will suit me at five 
 to one. How far will you go ? " 
 
 "Just as high as you like, my boy." 
 
 Poloc unbuttoned his coat, and took out 
 from an inside pocket an old pocket-book. 
 Out of this he drew four five-pound Bank of 
 England notes, new and crisp, and laid them 
 on the table. They were Guenilda's notes 
 all the money, within a few pounds, they two 
 could raise between them. Involuntarily 
 Poloc heaved a deep sigh as he spread them 
 out. It was a desperate wager he was laying, 
 
 VOL. i. R
 
 258 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 but he thought of the heirlooms, and his 
 courage hardened into hardihood. 
 
 Said he, " I can go so far ; which makes 
 it a hundred to twenty." 
 
 "Very good, old man. Mine shall be 
 ready in twelve hours. You will hold the 
 stakes for us, Muskerry ? " 
 
 "Not if I know it ! Man alive ! rob the 
 Duke in his own park ! You are mad ! " 
 
 But friendship's claims were not thus to 
 be ignored; and after a while, when his 
 mind had familiarised itself with the idea, 
 somewhat, assisted by another serving of 
 hot drinks round Muskerry undertook the 
 office of stake-holder. 
 
 " But look here," he said ; " you, Crump, 
 and you, Poloc, will just swear solemnly to 
 preserve an honourable silence on the matter 
 to your dying days." 
 
 " I swear," answered Poloc. 
 
 " I swear," answered Crump.
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 
 
 IT was a dull misty afternoon, and his Grace, 
 accompanied by his lovely young consort, 
 was taking a short drive in a closed carriage 
 drawn by a couple of horses. They were a 
 good mile from the House, in a part of the 
 park that was thickly wooded. In addition 
 to the postilion and two footmen, a number 
 of ladies and gentlemen and several grooms 
 were in close proximity, galloping their 
 horses over the mossy turf and under the 
 trees. These soon had their attention 
 arrested by a horseman, who was coming on 
 at a hard gallop apparently from the House,
 
 260 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 but instead of following the drive, he was 
 making a short cut across the park. The 
 new-comer was mounted on a superb cream- 
 coloured mare, and as he drew near, under- 
 neath his military cloak were glimpses of 
 a uniform ; he wore also a bob - wig and 
 a military hat. Under his left arm hung a 
 leathern bag, that looked fat with important 
 despatches. 
 
 As he approached the ducal carriage 
 the postilion halted the horses, while sev- 
 eral of the gentlemen on horseback drew 
 near, attracted by curiosity and eager to 
 learn what important news had arrived 
 from the Government. The stranger, how- 
 ever, drew from beneath his cloak a roll of 
 despatches, tied with red tape and bearing 
 several large seals ; and with this he waved 
 the intruders back, with a flourish of author- 
 ity that no one dreamed of disputing. He 
 sprang from his horse, just as the carriage-
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 261 
 
 window which was hung on hinges like the 
 door was thrown open, and her Grace 
 showed her bewitching face in the opening. 
 
 Said Poloc for our wagering hero it was 
 "With your Grace's permission, I would 
 speak with the Duke a moment?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly," murmured the fair lady, 
 sinking back into her seat beside her lord. 
 
 Poloc put his head into the carriage, and, 
 exhibiting the roll of despatches, said, " Can 
 your Grace bear to hear bad news ? " 
 
 "Bad news, bad news, what do you 
 mean ? Have we lost a battle, then ? Who 
 sent you ? Give me the papers, man ! " cried 
 the Duke, making a sign for the Duchess to 
 take the papers and pass them. 
 
 But Poloc held the roll in his hand, and 
 said, " If you think you can both hear it 
 without making any outcry, I would ask 
 you kindly to look at this ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he pointed at them the roll
 
 262 THE BULL I* Tfl' THORN. 
 
 of despatches, from the end of which pro- 
 truded the bright barrel of a pistol! The 
 Duchess drew back, and Poloc's hand went 
 swiftly but gently to her beautiful mouth, 
 just in time to check a scream. As for the 
 Duke, his face flushed deeply, and, with a 
 mighty oath of ducal dimensions, he cried 
 
 " You are a bold rogue, sir, as ever stole 
 a purse. Don't you see that my attendants 
 are swarming round you ? " 
 
 And in truth they were, for several of the 
 riders, attracted by the loud tones of the 
 Duke, had drawn near. Poloc's sensations 
 just then were anything but pleasant. He 
 saw his danger, and felt that nothing but 
 audacity and good luck could bring him off 
 safely. He gave a hearty laugh, and said in 
 a voice that all could hear 
 
 " Yes, your Grace, that is true. My lord 
 will be pleased to hear it." 
 
 Then, sinking his voice low, he added,
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 263 
 
 " If you value your life, sir, you will speak 
 in a lower tone." 
 
 He turned next to the group of riders, 
 who were admiring his beautiful mare, and 
 with a look of surprise that deepened into 
 anger, he cried 
 
 " Gentlemen, my audience with the Duke 
 is a private one." 
 
 Whereupon they instantly rode off, but 
 not without one of them exclaiming 
 fiercely 
 
 " Hang his insolence, for an upstart letter- 
 carrier ! " 
 
 Poloc put his head again into the carriage, 
 and unslinging his despatch-bag, handed it 
 to the Duchess, saying 
 
 " I am extremely sorry, but I must beg 
 of you to waste no time. Notes, coins, 
 watches, chains, seals, rings, and anything 
 else you can spare of value. That ruby 
 shawl -pin is really too pretty to leave
 
 264 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 behind me, and your Grace's bracelets would 
 not care to be parted from those rings ; 
 though I can understand they are loath to 
 leave your Grace's lovely hands." 
 
 The ducal pair submitted to the inevitable, 
 and were only too glad to hasten the with- 
 drawal of that sinister - looking barrel, by 
 stripping themselves of all their valuables. 
 They half filled the bag with their contri- 
 butions. It was a big haul, and what with 
 moneys, jewels, precious stones, and her 
 Grace's chronometer with its monogram of 
 diamonds, the booty was worth a clear thou- 
 sand pounds. Poloc received the bag with 
 a gracious bow. 
 
 " Now, be off with you, you scoundrel ! " 
 said the Duke, thinking it prudent, how- 
 ever, to make his tone pleasant almost to 
 jocularity. 
 
 Said Poloc, "As your Grace knows, we are 
 within three hundred yards of the yellow
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 265 
 
 gate that gives on to the moor. It grieves 
 me to say it, but the Duchess will have to 
 accompany me on foot as far as the gate ; 
 and you, your Grace, will have to drive 
 slowly back homewards ; and these gentry 
 on horseback will have to keep in front of 
 you. Then I shall be sure of a clear start, 
 and that is all I ask. My mare will carry 
 me forty miles without baiting." 
 
 "No, no; I dare not," murmured her 
 Grace. 
 
 "Why not? I should not harm you. If 
 you will give me your word of honour not 
 to use it against me unfairly, there is my 
 pistol. It is loaded, and report says your 
 Grace is a dead shot." 
 
 "Yes, I will go with you. Only please 
 put up that horrible thing. I do not want 
 it. If I had it, I might be tempted to give 
 you what you deserve. Will you open the 
 door, please ? "
 
 266 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 Poloc opened the door, and the Duchess 
 descended, wrapped up in fur, and treading 
 the ground daintily, for her shoes were light. 
 The carriage, obedient to the instructions of 
 the gouty Duke within, was turned round 
 and driven slowly off; while the Duchess, 
 waving her hand to the party on horseback, 
 intimated that she did not wish any attend- 
 ance. Poloc was silent, and the Duchess 
 made no remark until they reached the gate, 
 which turned out to be locked. 
 
 " Now, sir, what will you do ? You are 
 caught," exclaimed the Duchess. 
 
 " I deserve to be caught, for my careless- 
 ness. I must leap it, I suppose. Would 
 you mind holding this for me, till I am 
 over ? " 
 
 As he spoke, Poloc held out the bag con- 
 taining the booty. The eyes of the Duchess 
 opened wide with astonishment. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, with a light laugh ;
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 267 
 
 " I will hold it. But suppose I run away 
 with it ? I do not understand you a bit." 
 
 " Nay, I am sure you would not do that. 
 It would not be honourable ! " 
 
 " Honourable ! You funny creature, what 
 will you say next? Do you know, if you 
 were not a wicked highwayman, I should 
 think you a very interesting young man. 
 You are really going to trust me, then?" 
 she laughed, as she took the bag. 
 
 " I have no fears," said Poloc, springing 
 into the saddle. 
 
 He rode the mare some distance away, 
 and came back at a gallop, and took the gate 
 in a manner that much pleased her Grace. 
 On the other side, he dismounted and came 
 to the gate. 
 
 " You ride beautifully, sir. And I suppose 
 you have need to be a good rider. Here is 
 your bag, and and I wish you would 
 please let me have my ruby shawl-pin back.
 
 268 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 It belonged to my dear mother who is 
 dead." 
 
 Poloc opened the bag, and, after fumbling 
 for a little while, took out the Duke's watch 
 engraved with the ducal crest. 
 
 "I am going to take this watch, but 
 within a week the Duke will receive it back 
 again safe and sound. As for this bag and 
 its contents, permit me, madame, with the 
 humblest of apologies, to present it to you," 
 said Poloc. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I thank you, indeed I thank 
 you. But this is a comedy. What does it 
 mean ? " 
 
 "It means, your Grace, that I am no 
 highwayman, only a foolish fellow who laid 
 a wager and wanted to win it." 
 
 " But the risk ! His Grace will raise the 
 whole country-side, you may be sure, and if 
 you are caught " 
 
 " They could, and probably would, hang
 
 HOW THE WAGER WAS WON. 269 
 
 me. Yes, I know. But there was only one 
 other way of getting the money, and I pre- 
 ferred this to that. Won't your Grace plead 
 for me with the Duke ? " 
 
 Her Grace put her considering - cap on 
 a while, and then she said, " Who are you ? " 
 
 " Ah, lady, you don't know what you ask 
 me.. Yet I will trust you, for I know your 
 heart is too kind to betray me. My name is 
 Ralph Poloc of Poloc." 
 
 " What ! Sir Ralph's son ? " 
 
 "Madame, there is but one Poloc of 
 Poloc ! " 
 
 " Promise me you will never do the like 
 again ? " 
 
 " I promise, solemnly." 
 
 " Then I will forgive you, and I know the 
 Duke will, if it is only for your name's sake. 
 Take care of his watch ; it is his favourite." 
 
 In this way did Ralph Poloc win his 
 wager and save the heirlooms.
 
 270 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 
 
 THE holly was already cut for the Christmas 
 decorations at Muskerry Hall ; it lay in an 
 open glade in the wood adjoining the park. 
 To-morrow it would be carted to the house, 
 and Guenilda herself was to superintend the 
 hanging of it as usual. She always put her 
 soul into the work, for she was in love with 
 the sentiment of the thing ; but to-day 
 she seemed unusually susceptible, being full 
 of sighs and laughter, sudden starts and 
 flushes, singing and abstraction. But the 
 altogether good and faithful, pretty and 
 witty Lucy, went about demure as a young
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 271 
 
 Puritan, with a kitten -like innocency of 
 countenance. 
 
 It snowed heavily in the afternoon, 
 which made Guenilda almost cross, though 
 a white Christmas was her delight. When, 
 towards evening, the wind changed, and 
 snow gave place to rain, which came 
 pelting down and soon washed away all 
 the whiteness of the land, oddly enough, 
 Guenilda grew blithe, and hummed to her- 
 self the ballad of "Young Lochinvar." At 
 eleven of the clock, broken masses of black 
 cloud were being driven swiftly along by an 
 upper wind, that failed to disturb the earth 
 stratum of atmosphere by so much as a puff. 
 Between the sailing clouds the stars shone 
 brightly, giving one the sense of light with- 
 out the reality a trick that nature repeats 
 in many departments of life, with a gusto 
 that no detection can impair, no staleness 
 can deaden.
 
 272 THE BULL f TH* THOBN. 
 
 Guenilda, muffled from head to foot "in 
 rich warm furs, as she daintly stepped 
 through an open window on to a stone 
 balcony, and with soft quick steps descended 
 to the garden below followed by the 
 altogether good and faithful Lucy, bearing 
 a well-packed bag in her arms looked up 
 and saw the stars, and straightway felt that 
 the heavens and the earth were full of light 
 more cruel than kind. Never before, she 
 thought, had the sentinels of the sky, those 
 silent and mysterious scouts of the celestial 
 armies ever mano3uvring in the hidden fields 
 of space, flashed a radiance so bright, so full, 
 so searching, so mocking, so inquisitive and 
 interrogative. 
 
 Nevertheless, she took the wrong turn 
 twice in the shrubberies; and when cross- 
 ing the wild parkland her feet, being 
 far more in sympathy with the darkness 
 that lurked among the bracken and the
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP A1TD THE LIP. 273 
 
 rocks than with the light that danced from 
 star to eye and from eye to star, stumbled 
 again and again into treacherous hollows, 
 and against moss-covered stones and roots, 
 and over the grey and green coated architec- 
 ture of mole and ant. Still was she of such 
 stuff as dreams are made on that the illusion 
 clung, that it was a singularly and almost 
 maliciously bright night. 
 
 Soon she reached a stile in one corner of 
 the park, which gave on to a cross-country 
 road that was rough and but little used. 
 By the stile stood waiting a chaise with a 
 pair of horses. A man came forward, 
 touched his cap, and opened the door of the 
 vehicle, in which Guenilda at once took her 
 seat. The altogether good and faithful Lucy 
 also stepped in, deposited the bag, and, after 
 a short whispered conversation with her 
 mistress, withdrew and closed the door. 
 Then the chaise drove on, and Guenilda 
 
 VOL. i. s
 
 274 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 lay back and began to eat of the bitter- 
 sweet root of reflection. She had actually 
 started for Gretna Green! 
 
 Her mind was in a whirl, and a tumult of 
 images crowded in upon her, so that for a 
 time she lost sense of her situation. But 
 after a while she become conscious of physi- 
 cal sensations. The road for three or four 
 miles was little better than a ditch, full of 
 holes and ruts filled with water; to avoid 
 which, and to save the horses from breaking 
 their legs, the postilion kept quartering from 
 side to side. The result being one long 
 series of bumps and jerks, which made it 
 almost an impossible feat for Guenilda to 
 keep to one side of the seat, and soon in- 
 duced an aching in every bone of her body. 
 It was this that brought her to herself, 
 and stilled the wild tumult of her mind. 
 It occurred to her that she was doing a 
 romantic thing, but with something of wise
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 275 
 
 irony she asked herself, where the romance 
 came in. 
 
 Then she thought of her lover soon to 
 be her husband who was to meet her at a 
 certain point, and she said to herself, as she 
 felt the blood burning her face, " Ha ! the 
 romance is there!" 
 
 The delicious thought lingered a while, and 
 she toyed with it delicately and sweetly ; 
 but suddenly a cold shiver went through 
 her, as she thought to herself, "What if 
 he should not be there ? if illness, or acci- 
 dent, or or anything should prevent his 
 coming ? " 
 
 She tried to think it out, and decide 
 what it would be best to do under such 
 circumstances. Then came a jolt of a 
 superior kind, and over she went sideways. 
 She laughed as she righted herself, but she 
 did no more thinking. She was contented 
 to wait patiently, and balance herself dex-
 
 276 THE BULL f TH' THORN. 
 
 terously, making now and then a desperate 
 clutch at the side of the carriage. Every- 
 thing has an end sooner or later, and in 
 course of time the vile road was traversed ; 
 with a sharp curve the chaise rolled out on 
 to the king's highway, broad and fairly 
 smooth, and the change was so magical, so 
 full of softness and ease, that the girl lay 
 back, and closed her eyes, and fell asleep. 
 Which, taken all in all, was the sweetest 
 bit of romance she was likely to encounter. 
 As the chaise came to a standstill, Guenilda 
 awoke and looked out. They were at a small 
 posting-house, and all Guenilda could see was 
 the ruddy light of the fire on the diamond 
 panes of the hostel. Then a man appeared 
 with a Ian thorn, and she heard voices and 
 laughter. Presently there passed in front 
 of the firelit window a couple of horses, 
 meant for leaders to the chaise, with a 
 mounted postilion. Oddly enough, the pos-
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 277 
 
 tilion's figure, silhouetted for a moment 
 against the window, brought to her mind 
 the image of Jevons, a former groom of 
 her uncle ; the altogether good and faith- 
 ful Lucy, she recollected, had once cared a 
 little for the man Jevons, though she had 
 thrown him over since he had left Muskerry 
 Park. It did not matter, of course, but still 
 Guenilda would rather that the discharged 
 groom had not been one of her postilions. 
 The chaise began to move, then stopped ; 
 the door suddenly opened, and in sprang 
 Poloc. 
 
 " All right. Drive on ! " he cried, as he 
 pulled to the door. 
 
 At the same moment a figure, that might 
 have been mistaken for Crump, came quickly 
 forward from the yard of the hostel, and 
 climbed lightly on to the box-seat in front. 
 The two leaders were fresh, and did a bit 
 of preliminary prancing ere they settled to
 
 278 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 collar - work ; but the fun was soon over, 
 and the chaise went bowling along with 
 the four horses at a gallop. 
 
 Inside, the two lovers sat for some time 
 almost in silence. Guenilda was content to 
 say nothing, but lean her head upon Poloc's 
 breast, and feel his hand playing gently with 
 her face and neck and hair. And Poloc was 
 content to say nothing, but to feel his arm 
 round her waist, to kiss her hair, her brow, 
 her lips, her ear, her eyes any part of her 
 she was so divinely sweet, and sweeter 
 now than ever ; and to listen to the crunch- 
 ing of the wheels and the loud beating of 
 the horses' hoofs, and to feel that every 
 planting of the feet, and every revolution 
 of the wheels, shortened the perilous inter- 
 val that lay between the old hated life and 
 the new life, that loomed big with forms 
 of love and light and beauty. 
 
 When at length she spoke, Guenilda said,
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 279 
 
 " Kalph, dearest, who is the front pos- 
 tilion ? " 
 
 "The front postilion? I am sure I do 
 not know. But you may depend he is a 
 trusty man. Why do you ask, sweet wife ? " 
 
 The new word sent a thrill through the 
 girl, and she nestled closer to him. 
 
 "Nothing in particular, love. When he 
 rode past the window, before you came in, 
 he reminded me of Jevons, the groom, whom 
 uncle discharged not long ago. I do not 
 suppose you remember him, though." 
 
 " Yes, I do. The Squire took him on in 
 place of me ! " 
 
 " What ! Mr Crump ? " 
 
 "Yes. So it certainly could not have 
 been he, you see." 
 
 " No, of course not. I did not know that 
 he had gone to Poloc Hall, though," answered 
 Guenilda, who straightway lapsed again into 
 silence.
 
 280 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 She was trying to recall the exact words 
 of the altogether good and faithful Lucy, 
 who had certainly given her to understand, 
 only a few days ago, that when Jevons had 
 left Muskerry Park he had left the neigh- 
 bourhood entirely. It seemed, however, 
 that she had misunderstood the girl. Here 
 Guenilda tried to dismiss the subject alto- 
 gether from her mind, but this was singu- 
 larly beyond her power. A small stick will 
 stir up mud enough to spoil the clearness 
 of a lake. The image of Jevons induced a 
 sense of distrust and uneasiness that gradu- 
 ally discoloured the entire consciousness of 
 Guenilda. She felt troubled and nervous, 
 and had a wretched feeling of some impend- 
 ing calamity. 
 
 " I feel sometimes I feel now, now while 
 your dear form is held in my arms, that I 
 shall never call you my own. Not love 
 will fail us, but the malicious demon that
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 281 
 
 people call Good Fortune. Circumstances, 
 Guen, are the stones that build up the 
 walls, the prison -wall of destiny. Some- 
 thing tells me they will rise up between us 
 and keep us apart. I will live till then, 
 and fight the demon ; afterwards I will die, 
 cursing him." 
 
 These had been his words to her some 
 weeks ago, and now they came back to her 
 with startling distinctness, and with an added 
 force, as it were, of prophecy. A deep sigh 
 broke from her. 
 
 Instantly Poloc bent down and kissed her, 
 saying 
 
 " I thought you had dropped asleep, love. 
 Are you tired ? " 
 
 "Oh no, not at all. I have been think- 
 ing. You thought once, dearest, that 
 circumstances would rise up between us 
 and keep us apart. Do you feel that 
 now ? "
 
 282 THE BULL f TH* THORN. 
 
 "No, no, not now. Nothing can part us 
 now, my darling," answered Poloc, bravely 
 enough to the ear, but with a strange tingling 
 of nerves. 
 
 Just then a church clock struck two. 
 Guenilda gave a slight start, and sat up. 
 
 " That sounded just like our church clock," 
 she said. 
 
 Answered Poloc, with a laugh, "We are 
 a good twenty miles from the parish of Mus- 
 kerry, if we are a league." 
 
 " Are we really ? But I should have said 
 that not a clock in the world could have 
 counterfeited, in my ears, the tongue of our 
 village clock. Where are we, dear do you 
 know?" 
 
 Poloc put his face against the window and 
 looked out : he beheld a solitary star, and the 
 black forms of high hills that had a curiously 
 familiar and home-like aspect. 
 
 " I do not make out where we are. I don't
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 283 
 
 know this part of the country at all. Shall 
 we stop the carriage and enquire ? " 
 
 "No, never mind, love; perhaps we shall 
 change horses soon." 
 
 "Yes, I expect so." 
 
 Presently, they came to rising ground, and 
 the horses fell to walking. Guenilda looked 
 out of the window. Suddenly- she turned 
 quickly round, and, seizing her lover by the 
 arm, gasped 
 
 " Oh, Kalph, look ! look ! this is the park 
 WE ARE AT HOME!" 
 
 Poloc sprang from his seat, and, throwing 
 up the window, looked out. It was true. 
 They were in Muskerry park, and were 
 within three hundred yards of the house 
 itself. 
 
 " God, we are betrayed ! " he groaned. 
 
 Then he put out his head, and shouted 
 fiercely to the postilions to stop ; which they 
 answered by putting their whips vigorously
 
 284 THE BULL l' TH' THORN. 
 
 about the horses, who plunged forward at a 
 gallop, throwing Poloc almost off his feet. 
 At the same moment he heard a laugh 
 that sounded horribly familiar ; it suggested 
 Crump when he was in a spiteful mood. 
 
 " Guenilda, my love, my wife, the worst 
 has happened, but the end is not yet, and to 
 the end till death we will be true to each 
 other." 
 
 " Yes, husband mine, till death Ah ! " 
 
 The carriage passed through the large 
 handsome gates of bronze right into the 
 central court, and stopped dead, with a jerk. 
 A dozen lanthorns flashed in the darkness, 
 and a confused murmur of voices arose. 
 Poloc threw open the door, and sprang out. 
 
 " Where is she, you villain ? My niece, 
 Guenilda Muskerry, where is she ? " cried a 
 voice trembling with anger, while at the 
 same moment Poloc was seized roughly by 
 the arm.
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 285 
 
 "Do you think the lady is in my pocket? 
 Where should she be but there in the chaise ? 
 Unhand me, sir ! I am no villain, but I seek 
 one," answered Poloc, flinging himself loose. 
 
 "If there is law in England, you shall 
 smart for this, young man. Seize him, men ! 
 I am a justice of the peace, and I order his 
 arrest/' roared the old gentleman, making for 
 the carriage, wherein Guenilda sat perfectly 
 calm, motionless, and cold; to her it all 
 seemed more like a hideous nightmare than a 
 waking reality. Several men barred Poloc's 
 way, but he pushed them aside ; only one 
 fellow laid a hand upon him, and he the next 
 moment reeled and fell backwards, under the 
 force of Poloc's blow. 
 
 Then Poloc strode forward, and, seizing 
 the leading postilion, dragged him off his 
 horse to the ground. The man fought like 
 a bull -dog, but Poloc fought like a lion. 
 He dragged him forward, till the light of
 
 286 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 a suspended lamp fell upon the man's face. 
 Then he saw with a start that it was none 
 other than Jevons, the new groom at Poloc 
 Hall. 
 
 " You scoundrel ! I'll kill you, if you don't 
 tell me this instant whose tool you are ! " 
 cried Poloc, madly. 
 
 " Here he is, men ! Lay hold of him, you 
 curs ! " It was the voice of Crump. 
 
 Poloc heard it, and a thrill went through 
 him. He flung the crouching groom from 
 him, and swung round, and stood fronting 
 Archibald Crump. 
 
 " So you are here, are you ? " 
 
 " I am here, as you see. What right have 
 you to be maltreating my servant, sir?" 
 demanded Crump, insolently. 
 
 " He is your servant, then, in this matter, 
 is he ? " 
 
 " Certainly. It was necessary to foil your 
 base plot, and we have foiled it. Why, man,
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 287 
 
 I have ridden in front of you there, for the 
 last hour and a half." 
 
 " Indeed. And this is your friendship, eh? 
 I was warned of your treachery, but " 
 
 "Damn you ! don't bandy words with me. 
 You are a common highwayman, and robbed 
 . the Duke of " 
 
 As Poloc sprang at him, Crump dodged, 
 and, drawing a pistol, sent a bullet through 
 Poloc's left arm. Just then somebody thrust 
 a pistol into Poloc's hand, and a voice that 
 sounded curiously like Muskerry's, whis- 
 pered 
 
 "Give the traitorous raff what he de- 
 serves ! " 
 
 Poloc needed no urging. There was a 
 flash, a loud report, and Crump fell as if 
 dead. 
 
 "Fly!" whispered Muskerry, and Poloc 
 fled. Ten minutes later, Crump recovered 
 consciousness. His first words were
 
 288 THE BULL I* TH* THORN. 
 
 " Where is he ? " And when they told 
 him that Poloc had escaped in the confusion, 
 he exclaimed 
 
 " Damn him ! I'll follow him all round the 
 earth till I have my revenge ! " 
 
 Then he fell into a deep swoon. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS,