Читать книгу The Watchman of Orsden Moss - J. Monk Foster - Страница 9

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Three months have passed since Mr. Aaron Shelvocke returned to the place of his birth, and the passing of a quarter of a year has done much to confirm the good impression his re-appearance among the scenes and acquaintances of his earlier days had created.

The mine at the foot of the range of green hills had been reopened almost immediately, as the reader already knows; all the former work-people—manager, underlooker, firemen, and miners—had been re-instated in their former positions; as far as was possible under the circumstances the old mine had been developed, and employment found for a few additional colliers and datallers; and in every way the miners of Orsden Green, and the whole of the little village generally, had reason to be thankful that the reign of the vanished Vanshaws was over and done with, and that a new master—one of their own class—was reigning in their stead.

No man knew old Luke Shelvocke's failings and petty weaknesses better than did his brother Aaron. Of old the present master of Orsden Hall had had reason to dislike some of the things his relative had thought fit to do. Old Luke was too prone to exercise his authority as an official. The miners under his sway were never too leniently treated. He was a hard taskmaster, and never lost an opportunity of cutting down the wages of those under him.

Knowing this, Aaron "took the bull by the horns," and treated his avariciously minded kinsman to a little plain speaking.

"Look here, Luke," Aaron said, pleasantly. "I think we had better understand one another at the beginning. You have not got the best of names among the workmen, and I think you know why. Your policy has always been a cheeseparing one. For the sake of your masters you were always a bit hard on the men, and they don't like you in consequence, in spite of all your teetotalism and religious inclinations. I only tell you this because I should prefer the work-people to be treated somewhat differently now."

Old Luke had made some snarling rejoinder to the effect that if his brother was bent on setting up some sort of a charitable institution or workhouse in his mines, it didn't matter to him so long as somebody else paid the piper. Any fool of a Manager knew how to spend his master's money, but hardly any knew how to save it.

"I fancy I know, Luke," Aaron had replied unruffled, "how to spend money as well as save it. I only want you to treat the men and all the others decently—just as you would want to be treated if you were still getting your living by hewing coal."

Those plain hints had not been wasted. Very soon the miners of Orsden Green began to tell one another that "Owd Luke" was a better chap than he used to be before their Aaron came home; and somehow it had come about that the wages of the hardy pitmen were no longer put down, as formerly had been the case.

Between midsummer and August Aaron Shelvocke had spent considerable time, trouble, and money on the improvement of Orsden Hall. The old carriage-drive leading from the high road just outside the village to the front entrance had been regravelled, set straight and renovated, the lawn and patches of flower-beds before the hall had been trimmed up, the house itself had been overhauled from roof to basement, and the old-fashioned orchard and vegetable garden behind the hall had bean restored somewhat.

In all those improvements Aaron Shelvocke had taken the liveliest interest. Here and there he had wandered about his demesne with his nephew Mat at his elbow, marking defects and dilapidations, and suggesting improvements, and remarking continually that he would make a vastly different place of his home in the course of a year or two.

It was owing to no expressed wish, nor even a felt desire of Mat Shelvocke's that he was kept dangling in a kind of pleasant idleness at his uncle's side. Day after day Aaron had kept his young kinsman near him; evening after evening he would tell Mat, ere he dismissed him for the day, to meet him at such a time on the morrow, when they would do so and so.

Of course Mat obeyed—what else could he do? His uncle was his master, and his business was to carry out the other's behests. The man who paid him his wages each Saturday had a right to nominate the labour to which he should devote himself, and if the work he was doing—or supposed to be doing—was ridiculously easy, in contrast to that which he had been accustomed to in the mine, why should he grumble so long as his uncle was satisfied?

And yet Mat Shelvocke was not quite easy in his mind. If Aaron Shelvocke was content with matters as they stood there were two others who made not the least attempt to conceal their dissatisfaction at Mat's continual idleness. Those two were his uncle Luke and cousin Levi; and although he paid little attention to their sarcastic enquiries as to when he intended to return to work, he felt that it would be better if he were back at the colliery.

One afternoon in mid-August Mat spoke to his uncle. They had been making an exploration of the sodden tract of barren land known locally as Orsden Moss, and the elder man was full of schemes for reclaiming the wide stretch of bog. As they returned towards the Hall the young fellow said suddenly—

"And when may I think of returning to work again, uncle?"

"Return to work, Mat!" Aaron cried in accents of astonishment, as he paused in his measured walk and stared at his nephew. "Why, my lad, aren't you working now?"

"Of course, but I meant my old work at the colliery."

"Oh, I see! And would you rather go back to your own old work underground than help me here on the surface?"

"No, I can't say honestly that I would."

"Then why want a change? Isn't the money enough?"

"The wages are all right, sir, but——"

"But what, Mat?"

"Well, my uncle and cousin seem to think that I ought to do something besides hang about you day after day for weeks—even months," Mat replied somewhat sheepishly.

"Oh, I see how the land lies, my lad. Luke and Levi think I am making just a little too much of you, eh? But I am glad you have spoken, Mat. If either of them mentions the matter again will you tell them to mind their own business? Curse their impertinence! Can't I do as I like with my own money, and my own brother's son?"

Then they resumed their walk, and Mat could perceive that his companion was still turning over in his mind the matter of which he had spoken so angrily. Presently he said—

"Do you ever think of the future, Mat? Your own future I mean."

"That is a question Uncle Luke has sometimes put to me," Mat answered with a half smile on his brown face.

"I daresay," with a frown, "but I mean in another sense. Have you no ambition? What would you like to be?"

"Oh, I understand. Well, I have often thought that I should like to become a mine manager, uncle."

"You would, eh? And have you done any reading or studying in that direction?"

"Only a little. I did think of attending the School of Mines at Coleclough, but it was rather too expensive to go to town every night during the winter; and then there were the fees and the books, and all the other things."

"But if I found everything?"

"Then I would throw myself heart and soul into the work, and never rest until I had passed my examination and taken my certificate of competency. I've had plenty of practical experience of coal mines, and I think I'm not too thick-headed to pick up all else that I require in a year or two at the school."

"I think so too, and you shall have the chance," Aaron said in a decisive tone. "When you see your uncle again, Mat, tell him, will you, that you have done hewing coal. If you go into the mine again it must be in some official position which will learn you things, and prepare you for the situation which you will, I trust, one day fill."

"I will tell him," the young man said with a flushed face, and a heart that was wildly throbbing. "If you send me to school, uncle, I will do my best not to discredit your faith in me."

"There is no fear of that, Mat—at least, I have no fear of it. And while we are talking of this business, there is another matter we might as well settle now as hereafter. When you get home, tell your landlady, will you, that you will be leaving her in a week or so."

Mat stared at his relative, but made no observation. What did his uncle mean, he wondered. Aaron Shelvocke soon put his mind at rest.

"You can tell Mrs. Stockley, Mat, that you are going to live with me at the Hall in future. Naomi and her father are comfortably situated in their cottage, which is, I understand, Luke's own property, and Levi Blackshaw has been with them both so long now that he is just like one of the family. There is no occasion to disturb them in any way; but with you it is quite different. It strikes me as being hardly the thing that you should be in lodgings in the village while your uncle is living by himself in a big rambling place like Orsden Hall."

"You are much too good to me, uncle," Mat exclaimed greatly elated and yet a little distressed by his kinsman's words. "I never expected this, and I——"

"Don't talk nonsense, Mat," Aaron cried as he placed his big brown hand affectionately on his nephew's shoulder. "Why shouldn't you live with me? I'm a lonely old curmudgeon of a bachelor, and you have no nearer relative than myself. It would be a good thing for both of us, don't you think."

"It will be a good thing for me, uncle," Mat said, with a smile illuminating his handsome face.

A few minutes later they parted, Aaron taking his way towards the Hall, while his nephew went in the direction of Orsden Green, his face glowing still, his pulse beating quickly, and his young mind filled with dreams of his future. What a splendid chap this uncle of his was! How generous, homely, straight-forward, and unconventional. Just the very kind of uncle one desired. Well, he would show that he was not quite unworthy of his kinsman's generosity. When he began his studying he would bend himself resolutely and willingly to his work.

"Good afternoon, Mat!"

A low, pleasantly modulated voice brought young Shelvocke out of the clouds, and, half-turning, he recognised the pit-brow girl, who was walking just behind him, and a pleasant light glowed in his blue eyes and fresh face.

"Good afternoon," he returned genially, as he resumed his walk at the girl's side. "You are getting home early to-day."

"Yes, Mat; all the colliers had finished at four o'clock."

"And how do you like Orsden Green yet, Lettice?"

"I like it very much. Everybody has been so kind to me, and the work is so easy. I shall stay in the village now."

"I am glad to hear it," Mat rejoined, as he stole another admiring glance at the picturesquely garbed miner lassie at his elbow.

Lettice Forrester was attired after the fashion of the females who work about the Lancashire mines. A soft print bonnet rested on her fair hair, and fell on her shoulders, which were covered by a loose blouse of some dark stuff; and under this jacket a short skirt hung, being looped up in front, and displaying a pair of cord trousers, which, coming down to within a few inches of her dainty little clogs, with their bright buckles of brass, afforded a glimpse of a pair of finely moulded ankles, clad in dark blue hose.

The girl's soft refined features bore only faint traces of the grime which occasionally covers the faces of pit-brow girls when they labour in the screens and shootes among the black dust of the coal; and her few months' residence in the village had driven that sick pallor from her comely countenance which had rested upon it on the day of the rustic festival. Her slim, graceful figure was alert, lissome, and easy moving now as any maiden's could be.

From the first Mat had been attracted to the fair young lassie, probably on account of her youthfulness and lonely position, and she did not seem ungrateful for his attention and consideration. Since that memorable afternoon Mat and Lettice had met very frequently—sometimes at Orsden Hall, where the girl had been dispatched to clean some of the many apartments; occasionally at the colliery, when Mat strolled about the surface there on business of his uncle's, and very often in the village, where both of them lived.

Hence they had got to be very friendly. The lass was intelligent and refined in manner far beyond the usual run of her class, and Mat derived no small pleasure from conversing with her. That they would ever become more than friends neither of them dreamed as yet. She was too young to understand what love was, and he was scarcely aware of the real feeling which prompted him to treat Lettice Forrester as he treated no other village maiden.

As Mat Shelvocke and Lettice Forrester went along the village street they were noticed by Naomi Shelvocke, who happened to be standing in front of the cottage, and a look of black displeasure swept across the girl's strong, dark face as she watched them chatting a moment ere they went their ways. "Surely her cousin couldn't care for that pale-faced, yellow-haired chit of a stranger!" she cried to herself, almost passionately. And yet why did he walk with Lettice from her work, and stand gossiping there with her in sight of all the folks of Orsden Green?

She watched the young folk until they parted, and then, with that scowl on her handsome gipsy face, and a seed of bitterness planted in her impulsive, hot young heart, she slammed the garden gate behind her, and went into the house, wishing even then that Lettice Forrester had never set foot in the village.