God's Good Man by Marie Corelli (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

“Good-night, Ambassador Josey!”

Josey waved his old hat energetically.

“Good-night, my beauty! Good-night to Squire’s gel! Good-night—”

But before he could pile on any more epithets, she was gone, and the butler Primmins stood in her place.

“I’ll help give you a lift down to the gates,” he said, surveying Josey with considerable interest; “You’re a game old chap for your age!”

Josey was still waving his hat to the dark embrasure through which Maryllia’s white figure had vanished.

“Ain’t she a beauty? Ain’t she jest a real Vancourt pride?” he demanded excitedly; “Lord! We won’t know ourselves in a month or two! You marrk my wurrds, boys! See if what I say don’t come true! Leach may cheat the gallus, but he won’t cheat them blue eyes, let him try ever so! They’ll be the Lord’s arrows in his skin! You see if they ain’t!”

Bainton here gave a signal to Spruce, and they hoisted up the improvised carrying-chair between them, Primmins steadying it behind.

“There ain’t goin’ to be no layin’ low of the Five Sisters!” Josey continued with increasing shrillness and excitement as he was borne out into the moonlit courtyard; “And there ain’t goin’ to be no devil’s work round the old Manor no more! Welcome ‘ome to Squire’s gel! Welcome ‘ome!”

“Shut up, Josey!” said Bainton, though kindly enough—“You’ll soon part with all the breath you’ve got in yer body if ye makes a screech owl of yerself like that in the night air! You’s done enough for once in a way,—keep easy an’ quiet while we carries ye back to the village—ye weighs a hundred pound ‘eavier if ye’re noisy,—ye do reely now!”

Thus adjured, Josey subsided into silence, and what with the joy he felt at the success of his embassy, the warm still air, and the soothing influence of the moonlight, he soon fell fast asleep, and did not wake till he arrived at his own home in safety. Having deposited him there, and seen to his comfort, Spruce and Bainton left him to his night’s rest, and held a brief colloquy outside his cottage door.

“I’m awful ‘feard goin’ to-morrow marnin’ up to the Five Sisters with ne’er a tool and ne’er a man,—Leach ‘ull be that wild!” said Spruce, his rubicund face paling at the very thought—“If I could but ‘ave ‘ad written instructions, like!”

“Why didn’t you ask for ‘em while you ‘ad the chance?” demanded Bainton testily; “It’s too late now to bother your mind with what ye might ha’ done if ye’d had a bit of gumption. And it’s too late for me to be goin’ and speakin’ to Passon Walden. There’s nothin’ to be done now till the marnin’!”

“Nothin’ to be done till the marnin’,” echoed Spruce with a sigh, catching these words by happy chance; “All the same, she’s a fine young lady, and ‘er orders is to be obeyed. She ain’t a bit like what I expected her to be.”

“Nor she ain’t what I bet she would be,” said Bainton, heedless as to whether his companion heard him or not; “I’ve lost ‘arf a crown to my old ‘ooman, for I sez, sez I, ‘She’s bound to be a ‘igh an’ mighty stuck-up sort o’ miss wot won’t never ‘ave a wurrd for the likes of we,’ an’ my old ‘ooman she sez to me: ‘Go ‘long with ye for a great silly gawk as ye are; I’ll bet ye ‘arf a crown she won’t be!’ So I sez ‘Done,’—an’ done it is. For she’s just as sweet as clover in the spring, an’ seems as gentle as a lamb,—though I reckon she’s got a will of ‘er own and a mind to do what she likes, when and ‘ow she likes. I’ll ‘ave a fine bit o’ talk with Passon ‘bout her as soon as iver he gives me the chance.”

“Ay, good-night it is,” observed Spruce, placidly taking all these remarks as evening adieux,—“Yon moon’s got ‘igh, and it’s time for bed if so be we rises early. Easy rest ye!”

Bainton nodded. It was all the response necessary. The two then separated, going their different ways to their different homes, Spruce having to get back to the Manor and a possible curtain- lecture from his wife. All the village was soon asleep,—and eleven o’clock rang from the church-tower over closed cottages in which not a nicker of lamp or candle was to be seen. The moonbeams shed a silver rain upon the outlines of the neatly thatched roofs and barns—illumining with touches of radiance as from heaven, the beautiful ‘God’s House’ which dominated the whole cluster of humble habitations. Everything was very quiet,—the little hive of humanity had ceased buzzing; and the intense stillness was only broken by the occasional murmur of a ripple breaking from the river against the pebbly shore.

Up at the Manor, however, the lights were not yet extinguished. Maryllia, on the departure of ‘Ambassador Josey’ as she had called him, and his two convoys, had sent for Mrs. Spruce and had gone very closely with her into certain matters connected with Mr. Oliver Leach. It had been difficult work,—for Mrs. Spruce’s garrulity, combined with her habit of wandering from the immediate point of discussion, and her anxiety to avoid involving herself or her husband in trouble, had created a chaotic confusion in her mind, which somewhat interfered with the lucidity of her statements. Little by little, however, Maryllia extracted a sufficient number of facts from her hesitating and reluctant evidence to gain considerable information on many points respecting the management of her estate, and she began to feel that her return home was providential and had been in a manner pre-ordained. She learned all that Mrs. Spruce could tell her respecting the famous ‘Five Sisters’; how they were the grandest and most venerable trees in all the country round—and how they stood all together on a grassy eminence about a mile and a half from the Manor house and on the Manor lands just beyond the more low-lying woods that spread between. Whereupon Maryllia decided that she would take an early ride over her property the next day,—and gave orders that her favourite mare, ‘Cleopatra,’ ready saddled and bridled, should be brought round to the door at five o’clock the next morning. This being settled, and Mrs. Spruce having also humbly stated that all the peacock’s feathers she could find had been summarily cast forth from the Manor through the medium of the parcels’ post, Maryllia bade her a kindly good-night.

“To-morrow,” she said, “we will go all over the house together, and you will explain everything to me. But the first thing to be done is to save those old trees.”

“Well, no one wouldn’t ‘ave saved ‘em if so be as you ‘adn’t come ‘ome, Miss,” declared Mrs. Spruce. “For Mr. Leach he be a man of his word, and as obs’nate as they makes ‘em, which the Lord Almighty knows men is all made as obs’nate as pigs—and he’s been master over the place like—”

“More’s the pity!” said Maryllia; “But he is master here no longer, Spruce; I am now both mistress and master. Remember that, please!”

Mrs. Spruce curtseyed dutifully and withdrew. The close cross- examination she had undergone respecting Leach had convinced her of two things,—firstly, that her new mistress, though such a childlike-looking creature, was no fool,—and secondly, that though she was perfectly gentle, kind, and even affectionate in her manner, she evidently had a will of her own, which it seemed likely she would enforce, if necessary, with considerable vigour and imperativeness. And so the worthy old housekeeper decided that on the whole it would be well to be careful—to mind one’s P’s and Q’s as it were,—to pause before rushing pell-mell into a flood of unpremeditated speech, and to pay the strictest possible attention to her regular duties.

“Then m’appen we’ll stay on in the old place,” she considered; “But if we doos those things which we ought not to have done, as they sez in the prayer-book, we’ll get the sack in no time, for all that she looks so smilin’ and girlie-like.”

And so profound were her cogitations on this point that she actually forgot to give her husband the sound rating she had prepared for him concerning the part he had taken in bringing Josey Letherbarrow up to the Manor. Returning from the village in some trepidation, that harmless man was allowed to go to bed and sleep in peace, with no more than a reminder shrilled into his ears to be ‘up with the dawn, as Miss Maryllia would be about early.’

Maryllia herself, meanwhile, quite unconscious that her small personality had made any marked or tremendous effect upon her domestics, retired to rest in happy mood. She was glad to be in her own home, and still more glad to find herself needed there.

“I’ve been an absolutely useless creature up till now,” she said, shaking down her hair, after the maid Nancy had disrobed her and left her for the night. “The fact is, there never was a more utterly idle and nonsensical creature in the world than I am! I’ve done nothing but dress and curl my hair, and polish my face, and dance, and flirt and frivol the time away. Now, if I only am able to save five historical old trees, I shall have done something useful;— something more than half the women I know would ever take the trouble to do. For, of course, I suppose I shall have a row,—or as Aunt Emily would say ‘words,’—with the agent. All the better! I love a fight,—especially with a man who thinks himself wiser than I am! That is where men are so ridiculous,—they always think themselves wiser than women, even though some of them can’t earn their own living except through a woman’s means. Lots of men will take a woman’s money, and sneer at her while spending it! I know them!” And she nestled into her bed, with a little cosy cuddling movement of her soft white shoulders; “‘Take all and give nothing!’ is the motto of modern manhood;—I don’t admire it,—I don’t endorse it; I never shall! The true motto of love and chivalry should be ‘Give all—take nothing’!”

Midnight chimed from the courtyard turret. She listened to the mellow clang with a sense of pleased comfort and security.

“Many people would think of ghosts and all sorts of uncanny things in an old, old house like this at midnight;” she thought; “But somehow I don’t believe there are any ghosts here. At any rate, not unpleasant ones;—only dear and loving ‘home’ ghosts, who will do me no harm!”

She soon sank into a restful slumber, and the moonlight poured in through the old latticed windows, forming a delicate tracery of silver across the faded rose silken coverlet of the bed, and showing the fair face, half in light, half in shade, that rested against the pillow, with the unbound hair scattered loosely on either side of it, like a white lily between two leaves of gold. And as the hours wore on, and the silence grew more intense, the slow and somewhat rusty pendulum of the clock in the tower could just be heard faintly ticking its way on towards the figures of the dawn. “Give all—take nothing—Give—all—take—no—thing!” it seemed to say;—the motto of love and the code of chivalry, according to Maryllia.

X

A thin silver-grey mist floating delicately above the river Rest and dispersing itself in light wreaths across the flowering banks and fields, announced the breaking of the dawn,—and John Walden, who had passed a restless night, threw open his bedroom window widely, with a sense