Читать книгу The Silent Woman - Rita - Страница 12

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Rufus Myrthe slammed the gate and crossed the gravel path leading into the churchyard, in a royal rage at the result of his interview. But, after a moment or two, he cooled down and began to laugh.

"The old gentleman was so full of his own dignity and so self-important. I suppose I wasn't humble or respectful enough. Well, I can't get over the notion that my idea of reverence is as good for me as for the man I'm speaking to. I know what I am and what I want, and I'm legitimately qualified to get it if I can. I shan't go hat in hand to anyone begging for favours. Their way of doing business over here isn't mine. We'll see in the end which works best. . . . I wish this moorland air hadn't such a trick of giving one an appetite. Now, if I hadn't offended that old numbskull, I might have lunched at the parsonage or vicarage, or whatever they call it. As it is—well, I guess I'd best consult my friend the sexton."

The individual in question had finished his task, and was shouldering his spade to depart. He offered to lead the young stranger to a farm where he might get some refreshment, and beguiled the way by anecdotes of the Dale folk and their doings. It seemed odd to Rufus Myrthe that people living within a twenty-mile radius of one another were comparatively ignorant of names, or histories, outside their own small hamlets. The Peak heights above the valley were as distant as the Alps in impassibility to the simple folk below. Lives passed on, and others replaced them, and yet scarce one member of a family, or a hamlet, ever visited one of the big towns beyond. Staffordshire and Yorkshire were only names to old Reuben Drabb, who could not imagine them as neighbouring counties. The woods and vales of which Rufus Myrthe could speak, such as Alderley, Matlock, Bakewell, Hassop, Chee Tor and Chatsworth, he seemed to regard as other worlds; places he should never have the luck to see for himself. That one so young as his present companion should have crossed the ocean and travelled half over the New World and the old, were facts too amazing for him to credit.

He gazed and gaped and muttered. "To think o't! Did 'ee be so venturesome now! Lord, ta cross seas in what I've heerd tell is a monster, carryin' o' steam kettles in it's belly, an' driven, so to say, by power o' that only!" . . . All of which afforded Rufus considerable amusement and helped to pass the time till they reached what he was told was Cowlease Farm. Here he found himself hospitably entertained at Reuben Drabb's introduction. The old sexton was also offered bread and cheese and cider in the kitchen. There he regaled himself joyfully, while relating to such as would listen the wonders he had heard from the young traveller.

It was long past noon when Rufus Myrthe set out once more to return to the Inn. His mind was preoccupied now, for he had determined on an interview with Dick Udale that night. He could hardly prolong a stay he felt was unwelcome, and yet such weighty matters lay before and around it that all personal consideration seemed insignificant.

He was tired and somewhat despondent by the time he reached his destination. The singular dreariness of the place struck him afresh in contrast with the lovely vale he had left behind, and the thought that Moll was destined to waste her youth and beauty amid such desolation again stirred the chivalry of young manhood within his heart to bold ventures on her behalf. He entered the now familiar kitchen with the step and mien of one whose object spells "conqueror." However, so brave a front was wasted for the moment. Not a soul was there.

Wondering where Moll could be, he slowly ascended the stairs and went into his own room. He had scarcely closed the door before a cautious tap caused him to open it again. Moll stood on the threshold. Her face was flushed, her hair in disorder. In her hands she held a bundle of papers of all sorts and sizes. Hurriedly she came into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Look!" she cried. "Look! I've found th' papers I was telling 'ee of. I dunna want feyther to knaw. I canna read mysel', only big printed words, same as on th' milestones an' gates o' farms an' sic like. Will 'ee keep 'em safe? I dursna hide 'em, for fear he'd find 'em out. An' I'm certain sure as poor mither nivir wanted him to read what she'd wrote theer."

Rufus looked bewildered. "But I've no right to her confidence, either," he said. "I don't like to take charge of private papers. They may concern others—you, perhaps?"

"Then if 'ee reads them an' finds aught o' tha' sort thee can tell me o't," she answered. "Here, for I munna stay." She tossed the package on the bed and turned to leave the room.

"Where is your father?" asked Rufus.

"He war i' th' bar whin I cum to open th' room yonder. He's sure to be on th' drink now. An' I dursna cross him sic times. Tell me? Thou'lt stop on a bit. It's mighty lonesome, an' times I'm afeerd feyther 'll do me a harm. He's often eno' threatened it."

"I mean to stay till I've done something to help you now, and assure you a better future," exclaimed the young man, determinedly.

She gazed at him with wondering, incredulous eyes then slipped softly from the room, leaving the torn and disorderly papers on the bed.

Rufus Myrthe regarded them curiously for a few moments. He was thinking of that silent figure he had seen seated by the wide old chimney; thinking of the weight of sorrow that might have lain so heavily on the suffering heart; thinking too of Moll's words about the hours spent in writing these selfsame scraps.

What secret did they contain? What might they not shed on the path of the mystery where his own feet had so strangely wandered?

Rufus Myrthe took up that bundle of papers, and ended his reflections by action. He rolled the loose leaves together, tying them with a string he took from his satchel.

He felt he ought not to read them. The right to do so surely belonged to the writer's own child. Evidently she had desired to conceal them from her husband. "Well, for the present, I'll take care of them," he said to himself, and locked the case, and slung it over his shoulders. "I may have to leave sooner than I intended." He remembered the unfriendly bearing of his host. "So I'll take charge of my property right away. Now to face that grizzly bear below."

He found that "grizzly bear," as he called him, sitting by the fire in the kitchen. On the wooden stool by his side stood a jug and mug. He was smoking a pipe, and the fumes of strong tobacco filled the place.

He glanced up as the young man entered, and noted the satchel. "Goin'?" he asked, surlily. "I've made out the reck'nin' for 'ee. Theer 'tis."

He pointed with his pipe-stem to where a dirty bit of paper lay on the kitchen table.

"I was about to ask leave to stay another night," answered Rufus, taking up the bill and running a quick eye over the items. "You see," he went on, coolly, "night's falling, and I've had considerable experience of the kind of roads and lighting you give a traveller in these parts. I'd prefer waiting for daylight—if you wouldn't be too much inconvenienced," he added, politely.

"Pay th' bill first an' I'll think on't," returned his host.

Rufus took some silver from his pocket and slowly counted out the sum due. "There," he said, laying the money in the man's rough, outstretched hand. "And now let's talk."

Without further ceremony he drew up a chair to the fire, and facing the settle so recently vacated by that strange and silent occupant.

Dick Udale gave no very courteous response to that invitation. A grunt, and the replacing of his pipe between wolfish, discoloured teeth was his only recognition of the suggestion made by his guest.

"I'll come to the point at once," continued Rufus. "And if it's all the same to you I wouldn't object to a glass of your liquor. I've done a goodish bit of walking to-day."

Dick raised his voice and called to Moll, bidding her bring a glass. "An' get 'ee off somewhar' else," he added, politely. "Doan't be messin' about here wi' yer catlap o' tea."

"I've had it," she answered, quietly, and went out, closing the door behind her.

"It's about your daughter I want to speak," began the young man. "Do you think it's fair or right to keep her here in this lonely place, without education, without friends, or companions of her own sex?"

"Be 'ee takin' up th' passon's gab?" inquired Dick. "I can mind my own bizness, as I tould him."

"No doubt. But would not that business be the better for a mistress with some education, some knowledge of life? A year or two of schooling would make all the difference to Moll. Why, the poorest farmer's child in my country can read, and write, and reckon. The world's marching on beyond these sleepy hollows, and its watchword is Education."

"Dunna I knaw that, an' th' harm o't! Breedin' discontent; leadin' hussies to read lyin' books an' b'lieve lyin' tongues. Turnin' their heads till they be as fractious an' fancifu' as weaned babes. Ye wunna catch me spendin' my siller o' Moll i' that fashion. Let her bide; it's no matter ta' 'ee what chances t' her."

Rufus Myrthe set down the glass he had raised to his lips. The blood seemed to surge in a sudden burning tide to his brow, and his hand clenched involuntarily.

"No matter to me," he repeated. "What if I say it is? What if I offer to discharge the duty you neglect? I can put her in the care of people who will treat her decently. It shan't cost you a farthing, but it will make a good woman of her, and save her from the fate that has widowed you to-day!"

That burst of honest indignation seemed to astonish the callous brute that heard it. He surveyed the speaker from beneath his shaggy brows with a new interest.

"Do 'ee mean the'll pay?" he asked. "'Tis a suddin freaks what's took 'ee? Th' wench bean't more nor sixteen year, an' childish for that. Is't her face as ha' made a gaby o' ye, all suddin like?"

"Honestly, I'm sorry for her," answered Rufus. "And I mean what I say. How do I know, either, that she hasn't a claim upon my kinship? I told you my story, and I've found out that this Inn, and this property, is really what used to be the Marth Farm. If I can prove my rights, which I'm pretty sure I can, I mean to re-work that coal-mine."

Dick Udale started, and an oath escaped him.

"Rights!" he repeated. "Thee talk o' rights! Theer's a bit o' law as 'ull cross tha' rights hereabouts."

"What do you mean? You said something of that sort before."

"I did; an' I'll say summat o' ta' sort again, an' as often as ye talks that fule talk o' rights! Prove 'em! Prove that thy parents' folk wer' lawful wedded man an' wife! Thee canna do't. Thee canna find aught save as Marth o' th' Dale war a misbegotten fly-by-night, as throw'd in wi' a young farmer an' followed him to Amerikay more'n two score years agone!"

Rufus' healthy, bronzed face paled. "You'll have to prove your words, Dick Udale," he said. "Just as much as I shall prove my claim. But I don't wish you ill for all your hard words, and I won't go back on my offer."

"You young fule!"

"Fool or nor, will you let me do as I said?"

"Tak th' wench, an' ye will. She's best out of my way. A pretty handfu' ye'll be gettin'."

"I may send her to a school, and keep her there till she's 18 years of age!"

"Till she's 50, an't please ye," laughed the man, brutally.

"You must sign a paper giving your permission. It wouldn't be fair if you changed your mind and ordered her back."

"I'm na' likely to change ma mind. I knaw a strappin' fine wench as 'ull gladly housekeep ta me, an' keep th' Inn goin', an' I wish."

Again he laughed, and again the red blood of indignant youth mantled in brow and cheek of his hearer.

"Very well. It's a bargain," he said, drawing a deep breath of relief. "I'll draw up a form and you shall sign it. There's a place I know of, quiet and respectable, where she'll be quite safe. It's at Torcastle, near Peak Edge."

"I dunna care if 't be i' th' moon. I say ye must be crazy to dew such a thing. M'appen next ye'll marry th' wench when she's scholard eno' ta please 'ee."

The suggestion struck the young Quixote as a piece of mirthful irony.

He pushed aside his chair, and rose to his feet.

"Stranger things than that may happen," he said.