CHAPTER XXXVIII. It was true enough that Stixon now had nothing more to tell, but what he had told already seemed a very great importance, confirming strongly, as it did, the description given to me by Jacob Rigg. And even the butler's concluding words, that I seemed born to hear at all, comforted me like some good omen, and cheered me forward to make them true. Not that I could, in my sad and dangerous enterprise, always be confident. Some little spirit I must have had, and some resolve to be faithful, according to the power of a very common mind, admiring, but never claiming, courage. For never did I feel, in any kind of way, any gift of inspiration, or even the fitness of a quick, strong mind for working out deeds of justice. There were many good ladies in America then, and now there are some in England, perceiving so clearly their own superiority as to run about largely proclaiming it. How often I long to be a little more like these, equal to men in achievements of the body and very far beyond them in questions of the mind. However, it was useless to regret my lax, and foolish, perhaps, to think of them. To do my very best with what little gifts I had was more to the purpose, and more sensible. Taking in lonely perplexity now this dim yet exciting view of things, I resolved, right or wrong, to abide at the place where the only chance was of pursuing my search. I was pledged, as perhaps has been said before, to keep from everyone accepting faithful Betsy, and above all from Lord Castlewood, the unexpected tale wrung out of Mr. Stixon. That promise had been given without any thought in my eagerness to hear everything, and probably some people would have thought of it no more. But the trusty butler was so scared when I asked him to release me from it, so penitent also at his own indiscretion, which never would have overcome him, as he said in the morning, only for the thunderstorm, that instead of getting off I was quite obliged to renew and confirm my assurances. Therefore, in truth, I had no chance left but to go back to Shoxford and to do my best, meeting all dark perils with the shield of right spread over me. And a great thing now in my favor was to feel some confidence again, and the guidance of kind wisdom. The sense of this had never abandoned me so much as to make me miserable about it, but still I had never tried to shelter under it and stay there faithfully, as the best of people do. And even now I was not brought to such a happy attitude, although delivered by these little gleams of light from the dark void of fatalism into which so many bitter blows had once been driving me. However, before setting off again I made one more attempt upon Lord Castlewood, longing to know whether his suspicions would help me at all to identify the figure which had frightened both the sexton and the butler. That the person was one and the same, I did not for a moment call in question, any more than I doubted that he was the man upon whose head rested the blood of us. But why should he be allowed to go scot-free while another bore his brand, and many others died for him? And why all my most just and righteous efforts to discover him should receive, if not discouragement, at any rate most lukewarm aid? These and several other questions were as dark as ever. You must not return to Shoxford, my cousin, Lord Castlewood said to me that day, after a plain though courteous refusal to enlighten me, even with a mere surmise, except upon the condition before rejected. I cannot allow you to be there without strict supervision and protection. You will not, perhaps, be aware of it, as perhaps you have not been before, but a careful watch will be kept on you. I merely tell you this that you may not make mistakes and confound friendly vigilance with the spying of an enemy. Arima, you will be looked after. I could not help being grateful for his kindness, and really, try as I might to be fearless, it would be a great comfort to have someone to protect me. On the other hand, how would this bear upon my own freedom of looking about, my desire to make my own occasions, and the need of going everywhere? Would these be kept to my liking at all the while an unknown power lay in kind regard of me? Considering these things, I begged my cousin to leave me to my own devices, for that I was afraid of nobody on earth while only seeking justice, and that England must be worse than the worst parts of America if any harm to me could be apprehended at quiet times and in such a quiet place. My cousin said no more upon that point, though I felt that he was not in any way convinced. But he told me that he thought I should pay a little visit, if only for a day, as I treated him with, to my good friends at Bruntsey, before I returned to Shoxford. There was now no one at Bruntsey whom I might not wish to meet, as he knew by a trifling accident, and after all the kind services rendered by Major and Mrs. Hawkin, it was hardly right to let them begin to feel themselves neglected. Now the very same thing had occurred to me, and I was going to propose it, and many things which I found it hard to do without were left in my little chest of locked-up drawers there. But of that, to my knowledge, I scarcely thought twice, whereas I longed to see and have a talk with dear Aunt Mary. Now, since my affairs had been growing so strange and Lord Castlewood had come forward, not strongly, but still quiet enough to speak of, there had been a kind-hearted and genuine wish at Bruntsey to recover me, and this desire had unreasonably grown while starved with disappointment. The less they heard of me, the more they imagined in their rich goodwill, and the sure they became that, after all, there was something in my ideas. But how could I know this without any letters from them, since letters were a luxury of forbidden me at Shoxford? I knew it through one of the simplest and commonest of all nature's arrangements. Dixon's boy, as everybody called him, though he must have been close upon five and twenty, and carried a cane out of sight of the windows. Being so considered, and treated boishly by the maids of Castlewood, asserted his dignity, and rose above his value as much as he had lain below it, by showing that he owned a tender heart, and them that did not despise it. For he chanced to be walking with his cane upon the beach, the very morning after he first went to Bruntsea, too late for any train back again, and casting glances of interior wonder over the unaccustomed sea, when from the sea itself outleaped a wondrous rosy deity. You there, Mr. Stixon, oh my, how long, exclaimed Mrs. Hawkins' new parlor maid, ready to drop, though in full print now, on the landward steps of a bathing machine set up by the reckless major. From this very histate, Miss, on or bright, replied the junior Stixon, who had moved in good society, and just in the hack me of time, Miss, if I may offer you my humble end. The fair nymph fixed him with a penetrating glaze through trusses full of salt-curliness, while her cheeks were conscious of an unglad dip, but William Stixon's eyes were firm with pure truth, gently toning into shy reproach and tenderness. He had met her at supper last night, and done his best, but, as he said to the castle-wood maids, it was only feeling then, whereas now it was emotion. Then you are gentlemen, Polly Hopkins cried, and indeed, Mr. Stixon, these are slippery things. She was speaking of the steps as she came down them, and they had no handrails. And the young man felt himself to be no more a Stixon's boy, but a gentleman under sweet refining pressure. From that hour forth it was pronounced, and they left the world to its own opinion that they were keeping company, and although they were sixty miles apart by air and eighty-two by railway, at every post their hearts were won, with considerable benefit to the United Kingdom's revenue. Also they met by the sad sea waves when the bathing machines had been hauled up, for the major had now three of them, as often as Stixon's senior smiled, which he did whenever he was not put out, on the bygone ways of these children. For Polly Hopkins had a hundred pounds, as well as being the only child of the man who kept the only shop for pickled pork in Bruntsea. And my Mr. Stixon could always contrive to get orders from his lordship to send the boy away, with his carriage paid, when his health demanded bathing. Hence it is manifest that the deeds and thoughts of Bruntsea House, otherwise called Bruntlands, were known quite as well, and discussed even better, because dispassionately, at Castlewood then as they were at home. Now I won for ever the heart of Stixon's boy, and that of Polly Hopkins, by recoiling with horror from the thought of going to Bruntsea unattended. After all my solitary journeys this might have been called hypocrisy, if it had been inconvenient, but coming as it did it was pronounced by all who desired either news or love, to be another proof of the goodness of my heart. Escorted thus by William Stixon, armed with a brilliant cane bought for this occasion, and knowing that Sir Montague Hawkin was not there, I arrived at Bruntlands in the afternoon, and received a kindly welcome from my dear friend Mrs. Hawkin. Her husband was from home, and she grieved to say that now he was generally doing this, but nobody else could have any idea what his avocations were. Then she paid me some compliments on my appearance, a thing that I never thought of, except when I came to a question of likeness, or chance to be thinking of things, coming up as they will, at a looking-glass. That the major was out was a truth established in my mind some time ago, because I had seen him, as our fly crawled by, expressly and emphatically at work on a rampart of his own designing. The work was quite new to me, but not so his figure. Though I could not see people three miles off, as Firm Gundry was said to do, I had pretty clear sight, and could not mistake the major within a furlong. And there he was, going about in a row of square notches against the sea-line, with his coat off, brandishing some tool, vehemently carrying on to spirits less active than his own. I burned with desire to go and join him, for I loved to see activity. But Mrs. Hawkin thought that I had better stay away, because it was impossible to get on there without language too strong for young ladies. This closed the question, and I stopped with her, and found the best comfort that I ever could have dreamed of. Aunt Mary was so steadfast, and so built up, or rather built of, the very faith itself, that to talk with her was as good as reading the noblest chapter of the Bible. She put by all possibility of doubt as to the modern interference of the Lord, with such a sweet pity and the seasoned smile of age, and so much feeling, which would have been contempt if she had not been softened by her own escapes, that really I, who had come expecting to see her beautiful white hair on end, became like a little child put into the corner but too young yet for any other punishment at school except to be looked at. Nevertheless, though I did look small, it made me all the happier. I seemed to become less an individual and more a member of a large kind race under paternal management. From a practical point of view, this may have been a miss, but it helped to support me afterward. And before I began to get weary or rebel against her gentle teaching, in came her husband, and she stopped at once because he had never had any time for it. My geological hammer cried the major, being in a rush as usual. Oh, Miss Castlewood, I did not see you, pardon me. It is the one to practice only. So holy have you deserted us, fallen into better hands, of course. Well, how are you? But I need not ask. If ever there was a young lady who looked well, don't tell me of troubles or worries or nerves. I put up my glasses and simply say, pretty young ladies are above all pity. My hammer, dear Mary, my hammer, I must have. The geological one, you know. We have come on a bit of old Roman work. The bricklayer's hammers go flat, like lead. I have just one minute and a half to spare. What fine fellows those Romans were. I will build like a Roman. See to every bit of it myself, Arima, no contractor's jobs for me. Mary, you know where to find it. Well, dear, I think that you had it last to get the bong out of the beer barrel when the stool broke down in the corner, you know, because you would never mind about that. The dremen made a fool of himself. I proceeded upon true principles that fellow knew nothing of leverage. Well, dear, of course you understand it best. But he told Cook that it was quite a mercy that you got off without a broken leg, and compared with that, two gallons of spilled ale Mrs. Hocken made off without finishing her sentence. What a woman she is, cried the major. She takes such lofty view of things, and she can always find my tools. Arima, after dinner I must have a talk with you. There is something going on here on my manner, which I can not at all get a clue to, except by connecting you with it. The Lord knows how. Of course you have nothing to do with it, but still my life has been so free from mystery that you know what I mean, that you naturally think I must be at the bottom of everything mysterious. Now is there anything dark about me? Do I not labor to get at the light? Have I kept from your knowledge any single thing? But you never cared to go into them. It's hardly fair of you to say that. The fact is that you, of your own accord, have chosen other counselors. Have you heard any more of your late guardian, Mr. Shovellin? I suppose that his executor, or someone appointed by him, is now your legal guardian. I have not even asked what the law is, I replied. Lord Castlewood is my proper guardian, according to all common sense, and I mean to have him so. He is inquired through his solicitors as to Mr. Shovellin, and I am quite free there. My father's will is quite good, they say, but it has never been proved, and none of them care to do it. My cousin thinks that I could compel them to prove it, or to renounce improper form, but Mr. Shovellin's sons are not nice people, as different from him as night from day, careless and wild and dashing. Then do you mean to do nothing about it? What a time she is finding that hammer. I leave it entirely to my cousin, and he is waiting for legal advice. I wish to have the will, of course, for the sake of my dear father, but with or without any will, my mother's little property comes to me, and if my dear father had nothing to leave, why should we run up a great lawyer's bill? To be sure not, I see. That makes all the difference. I admire your common sense, said the major, but there. Come and look, and just exercise it here. There is that very strange woman again just at the end of my new road. She stands quite still, and then stares about, sometimes for an hour together. She knows who she is or why she came. She has taken a tumbledown house on my manor from a wretch of a fellow who denies my title, and what she lives on is more than anyone can tell, for she never spends a sixpence in Brunsey. Some think she walks all the way to Newport and gets all her food at some ship-stores there. And one of our fishermen vows that he met her walking on the sea as he rode home one night, and she had a long red bag on her shoulder. She is a witch, that is for certain. For she won't answer me however politely I cost her. But the oddest thing of all is the name she gave to the fellow she took the house from. What do you think she called herself? Of all things in the world, Mrs. Castlewood, I congratulate you on your relative. How very strange, I answered. Oh, now I see why you connect me with it, and I beg your pardon for having been vexed. But let me go and see her. Oh, may I go at once, if you please, and speak to her? The very thing I wish, if you are not afraid, I will come with you when I get my hammer. Oh, here it is. Mary, how clever you are. Now look out of the window, and you shall see a rima make up to her grandma. End of chapter 38, recorded by Mary Ann Spiegel in Chicago, Illinois. Chapter 39 of a rima. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Mary Ann Spiegel. A rima by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 39, Not at Home. Mrs. Hawken, however, had not the pleasure promised her by the fastidious major of seeing me make up to my grandma. For although we set off at once to catch the strange woman who had roused so much curiosity, and though, as we passed the door of Bruntland's, we saw her still at her post in the valley, like Major Hawken's new letter box. For some reason, best known to herself, we could not see any more of her. For hurry as he might upon other occasions, nothing would make the major cut a corner of his winding drive when descending it with the visitor. He enjoyed every yard of its length, because it was his own at every step, and he counted the paces in an undertone to be sure of the length for perhaps the thousandth of time. It was long enough in a straight line, one would have thought, but he was not the one who thought so, and therefore he had doubled it by judicious windings, as if for the purpose of breaking the descent. Three hundred and twenty-one, he said, as he came to a post, were he meant to have a lodge as soon as his wife would let him. Now, the woman stands fifty-five yards on, at a spot where I mean to have an ornamental bridge, because our fine saline element runs up there when the new moon is peregrine. My dear, I am a little out of breath, which affects my sight for the moment. That is why I do not see her. If I may offer an opinion, I said, in my ignorance of all the changes you have made, the reason why we do not see her may be that she has gone out of sight. Impossible, Major Hawking cried. Simply impossible, Arima. She never moves for an hour and a half. And she was not come, was she, when you came by? I will not be certain, I answered, but I think that I must have seen her if she had been there, because I was looking about particularly at all your works as we came by. Then she must still be there. Let us tackle her. This was easier said than done, for we found no sign of anybody at the place where she certainly had been standing less than five minutes ago. We stood at the very end and last corner of the ancient River Trough, where a little seemed when inland from it, as if some trifle of a brook had stolen down while it found good river to welcome it. But now there was only a little oozy gloss from the gleam of the sun upon some leaves of marshy brine left among the rushes by the last high tide. You see my new road and the key to my intentions, said the Major, forgetting all about his witch and flourishing his geological hammer while standing thus at his nucleus. To understand all, you have only to stand here. You see those leveling posts adjusted with scientific accuracy. You see all those angles calculated with micrometric precision. You see how the curves are radiated. It is very beautiful. I have no doubt. But you cannot have Uncle Sam's gift of machinery. And do you understand every bit of it yourself? Arima, not a jot of it. I like to talk about it freely when I can, because I see all its beauties. But as to understanding it, my dear, you might set too if you were an educated female and deliver me a lecture upon my own plan. Intellect is, in such matters, a bubble. I know good bricks, good mortar, and good foundation. With your great ability, you must do that, I answered, very gently, being touched with his humility and allowance of my opinion. You will make a noble town of it. But when is the railway coming? Not yet. We have first to get our act. And a miserable-minded wretch, who owns nothing but a rabbit worn, means to oppose it. Don't let us talk of him. It puts one out of patience when a man cannot see his own interest. But come, and see our assembly rooms, literary institute, baz, et cetera, et cetera. That is what we are urging forward now. But may I not go first and look for my strange namesake? Would it be wrong of me to call upon her? No harm would ever, replied my companion. Likewise, no good. Call 50 times, but you will get no answer. However, it is not a very great round, and you will understand my plans more clearly. Step out, my dear, as if you had a troop of Mexicans after you. Ah, what a fine turn for that lot now. He was thinking of the war which had broken out and the battle of bulls run. Without any such headlong speed, we soon came to the dwelling place of the stranger, and really, for once, the good major had not much overdone his description. Truly, it was almost tumbling down, though massively built, and a good house long ago. And it looked the more miserable now from being placed in a hollow of the ground, whose slopes were tufted with rushes and thistles and ragwort. The lower windows were blocked up from within. The upper were shattered and crumbling and dangerous, with blocks of cracked stone jutting over them. And the last surviving chimney gave smoke less than a workman's homeward whiff of his pipe to comfort and relieve the air. The only door we could see was a heavy black oak without any knocker, but I clinched my hand, having thick gloves on, and made what I thought was a very creditable knock, while the major stood by, with his blue lights up, and keenly gazed and gently smiled. Knock again, my dear, he said. You don't knock half hard enough. I knocked again with all my might and got a bruised hand for a fortnight, but there was not even the momentary content produced by an active echo. The door was as dead as everything else. Now for my hammer, my companion cried. This house, in all sound law, is my own. I will have a John Doe and Richard Rowe, a fine act of ejectment. Shall I be barred out upon my own manner? With hot indignation he swung his hammer, but nothing came of it except more noise than the major grew warm and angry. My charter contains the right of burning witches or drowning them according to their color. The execution is simply imposed upon the bailiff of this ancient town, and he is my own pickled porkman. His name is Hopkins, and I will have him out with his seal and stick and all the rest. Am I to be laughed at this way? For we thought we heard a little screech of laughter from the loneliness of the deep dark place, but no other answer came, and perhaps it was only our imagining. Is there no other door, perhaps one at the back, I asked, as the Lord of the Manor stamped. No, that has been walled up long ago. The villain has defied me from the very first. Well, we shall see. This is all very fine. You witness that they deny the owner entrance? Undoubtedly I can depose to that, but we must not waste your valuable time. After all, the poor ruin is worthless, he went on, calming down as we're retired.  It is quite an eyesore to our new parade, and no doubt it belongs to me. No doubt it does. The fellow who claims it was turned out of the law, fancy any man turned out of the law. Arima, in all your far west experience, did you ever see a man bad enough to be turned out of the law? Major Hawkin, how can I tell? But I fear that their practice was very, very sad, and they very nearly always used to hang them. The best use, the best use a road can be put to. Some big thief has put it the opposite way because he was afraid of his own turn. The Constitution must be upheld, and by the Lord it shall be, at any rate, in East Brunsee.  Being once in this queue, Major Hawkin went on, not talking to me much, but rather to himself, though expecting me now and then to say yes. And this I did when necessary, for his principles of action were beyond all challenge, and the only question was how he carried them out. He took me to his rampart, which was very sure to stop the sea, and at the same time to afford the finest place in all Great Britain for a view of it. Even an invalid might sit here in perfect shelter from the heaviest gale, and watch such billows as were not to be seen except upon the Major's property. The reason of that is quite simple, he said, and any child may see the force of it. In no other part of the kingdom can you find so steep a beach, fronting the southwest winds, which are tend to one of all other winds, without any break of sand or rock outside. Hence, we have what you cannot have on a shallow shore, grand rollers, straight from the very Atlantic arena. You and I have seen them. You may see by the map that they all end up here, with the wind in the proper quarter. Oh, please do not talk of such horrors, I said. Why, your ramparts would go like pie crust. The Major smiled a superior smile, and after more talk we went home to dinner. From something more than curiosity, I waited at Brunsey for a day or two, hoping to see that strange namesake of mine who had shown so much in hospitality. For she must have been at home when we made that pressing call, in as much as there was no other place to hide within the needful distance of the spot where she had stood. But the longer I waited, the less would she come out, to borrow Good Irishman's expression. And the Major's pillar box, her favorite resort, was left in conspicuous solitude. And when a letter came from Sir Montague Hawken, asking leave to be at Bruntland's on the following evening, I packed up my goods with all haste and set off not an hour too soon for Schoxford. But before leaving these kind friends, I begged them to do for me one little thing without asking me to explain my reason, which, indeed, was more than I could do. I begged them, not of course, to watch Sir Montague, for that they could not well do to a guest, but simply to keep their eyes open and prepared for any sign of intercourse, if such there were, between this gentleman and that strange interloper.  And even to myself, my own thought appeared absurd. Remembering, however, what Sir Montague had said and other little things as well, I did not laugh as they did. But perhaps one part of my conduct was not right, though the wrong, if any, had been done before that. To it, I had faithfully promised Mrs. Price not to say a word at Bruntland's about their visitor's low and sinful treachery toward my cousin. To give such a promise had perhaps been wrong, but still, without it, I should have heard nothing of the matters that concerned me nearly. And now it seemed almost worse to keep than to break such a pledge when I thought of a pious, peer-minded, and holy-hearted woman, like my dear Aunt Mary, unwittingly brought into friendly contact with a man of the lowest nature. And as for the Major, instead of sitting down with such a man to dinner, what would he have done but drive him straight away from the door and chase him to the utmost verge of his manner with the peak end of his geological hammer? However, away I went without a word against that contemptible and baseman toward whom, though he never had injured me, I cherished, for my poor cousin's sake, the implacable hatred of virtuous youth. And a wild idea had occurred to me, as many wild ideas did now in the crowd of things gathering round me, that this strange woman, concealed from the world, yet keenly watching for some members of it, might be that fallen and miserable creature who had fled from a good man with a bad one because he was more like herself. Flitimore, Lady Castlewood. Not that she could be an old woman yet, but she might look old, either by disguise or through her own wickedness.  Mrs. Price had not told me what became of her, or even whether she was dead or alive, but merely said, with a meaning look, that she was punished for her sin and I had not ventured to inquire how the subject being so distasteful. To my great surprise and uneasiness as well, I had found at Bruntland's no letter whatever, either to the major or myself from Uncle Sam or any other person at the Sawmills. There had not been time for an answer to my letter of some two months back, yet being alarmed by the Sawyer's last tidings, I longed with some terror for later news. And all the United Kingdom was now watching with tender interest the dismemberment, as it almost appeared, of the other mighty union. Not with malice or snug satisfaction, as the men of the North in their agony said, but certainly without any proper anguish yet, and rather as a genial and sprightly spectator, whose love of fair play perhaps kindles his applause of the spirit and skill of the weaker side. It is a good fight, let them fight it out, seemed to be the general sentiment, but in spite of some American vaunt and menace, which of late years has been galling, every true Englishman deeply would have more in the humiliation of his kindred. In this anxiety for news, I begged that my letters might be forwarded under cover to the Postmistress at Shoxford and bearing my initials. For now, I had made up my mind to let Mrs. Busk know whatever I could tell her. I had found her a cross and well-educated woman, far above her neighbors, and determined to remain so. Gossip, that universal leveler, theoretically she despised, and she had the magnificent esteem for rank, which worked so beautifully in England. And now, when my good nurse reasonably said that, much as she loved to be with me, her business would allow that delight no longer, and it also came home to my own mind that money would be running short again, and small hope left in this dreadful civil war of our nugget-escaping pillage, which made me shudder horribly at internal discord. I did just this, I dismissed Betsy, or rather I let her dismiss herself, which she might not have altogether meant to do, although she threatened it so often. For here she had nothing to do but live well, and protest against tricks of her own profession, which she practiced as necessary laws at home, and so with much affection for the time we parted. Mrs. Busk was delighted at her departure, for she never had liked to be criticized so keenly while she was doing her very best. As soon as the wheels of Betsy's flies had shown their last spoke at the corner, she told me with a smile, that her mind had been made up to give us notice that very evening to seek for better lodgings. But she could not wish for a quieter, pleasanter or more easily pleased young lady than I was without any mischief-maker, and so on the spur of the moment, I took her into my own room while her little girl minded the shop, and there and then I told her who I was and what I wanted. And now she behaved most admirably. Instead of expressing surprise, she assured me that all along she had felt there was something, and that I must be somebody. Lovely as my paintings were, which I never heard before or since from any impartial censor, she had known that it could not be that alone which kept me so long in their happy valley, and now she did hope I would do her the honor to stay beneath her humble roof, though entitled to one so different, and was the fair ring in the churchyard made of all my family. I replied that too surely this was so, and that nothing would please me better than to find, according to my stature, room to sleep inside it as soon as ever I should have solved the mystery of its origin. At the moment this was no exaggeration, so depressing was the sense of fighting against the unknown so long, was scarcely anyone to stand by me or avenge me if I fell. And Betsy's departure, though I tried to take it mildly, had left me with a readiness to catch my breath. But to dwell upon sadness no more than need be, as sure as hunger, it was manifest now to my wondering mind that once more I had chanced upon a good and warm and steadfast heart. Everybody is said to be born, whether that happens by night or day, with a certain little widowed star, which has lost its previous mortal, concentrating from a billion billion of miles, or leagues, or larger measure, intense but generally invisible radiance upon him or her. And to take for the moment this old fable as of serious meaning, my star was to find bad facts at a glance, but no bad folk without long gaze. End of chapter 39. Chapter 40 of Arima. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Arima by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 40, The Man At Last. This new alliance with Mrs. Busk not only refreshed my courage, but helped me forward most importantly. In truth, if it had not been for this, I never could have borne what I had to bear, and met the perils which I had to meet. For I had the confidence of feeling now that there was someone close at hand, an intelligent person, and well acquainted with the place and the neighborhood, upon whom I could rely for warning, sucker and, if the worse should come to the very worst, revenge. It is true that already I had Jacob Rig, and perhaps the protector promised by my cousin, but the former was as ignorant as he was honest, and the latter, as he made no sign, how could I tell anything? Above all things, Mrs. Busk's position as mistress of the letters gave me very great advantage for both offense and defense. For without the smallest breach of duty, or of loyal honor, she could see that my letters passed directly to me, or from me, as the case might be, at the same time that she was bound to observe all the pistols addressed to strangers or newcomers in her district, which extended throughout the valley. And by putting my letters in the Portsmouth bag, instead of that for Winchester, I could freely correspond with any of my friends without anyone seeing name or postmark in the neighboring villages. It is needless to say that I had long since explored and examined with great diligence that lonely spot where my grandfather met his terrible and mysterious fate. Not that there seemed to be any hope now, after almost 19 years, of finding even any token of the crime committed there. Only that it was natural for me, feeling great horror of this place, to seek to know it thoroughly. For this I had good opportunity because the timid people of the valley toward the close of day would rather trudge another half mile of the homeward road than save brave legs at the thumping cost of hearts not so courageous. For the planks were now called Murder Bridge, and everybody knew that the red spots on it, which could never be seen by daylight, began to gleam toward the hour of the deed and glowed as if they would burn the wood when the church clock struck 11. This phenomenon was beyond my gifts of observation and knowing that my poor grandfather had scarcely set foot on the bridge, if ever he set foot there at all, which at present was very doubtful. Also that he had fallen backwards and only bled internally, I could not reconcile tradition however recent with proven truth. And sure of no disturbance from the step of any native, here I often sat in a little bowered shelter of my own, well established up the rise, down which the path made zigzag and screened from that and the bridge as well by a sheaf of twigs and top of leaves. It was a little forward thicket, quite detached from the upland copes to which perhaps it had once belonged and crusted up from the meadowslope with sod and mold in alternate steps. And being quite the elbow of a foreland on the meadow reach, it yielded almost a bird's eye view of the beautiful glade and the wandering brook. One evening when I was sitting here, neither drawing nor working, nor even thinking with any set purpose, but idly allowing my mind to rove like the rivulet without any heed, I became aware of a moving figure in the valley. At first it did not appear to me as a thing at all worth notice. It might be a very straightforward cow or a horse coming on like a stalking horse, keeping hind legs strictly behind in direct desire of water. I had often seen those sweet things that enjoy four legs walking in the line of distance as if they were no better off than we are, kindly desiring perhaps to make the biped spectator content with himself. And I was content to admire this cow or horse or whatever it might be, without any more than could be helped of that invidious feeling which has driven the human race now to establish its right to a tail and its hope of four legs. So little indeed did I think of what I saw that when among the hazel twigs parted carelessly by my hand, a cluster of nuts hung manifest, I gathered it and began to crack and eat, although they were scarcely ripe yet. But while employed in this pleasant way, I happened to glance again through my leafy screen and then I distinguished the figure in the distance as that of a man walking rapidly. He was coming down the mill stream meadow toward the wooden bridge, carrying a fishing rod, but clearly not intent on angling. For instead of following the course of the stream, he was keeping quite away from it, avoiding also the footpath or at any rate seeming to prefer the long shadows of the trees and the tufted places. This made me look at him and very soon I shrank into my nest and watched him. As he came near, anyone could tell that he was no village workman, bolder than the rest and venturesome to cross the murder bridge in his haste to be at home. The fishing rod alone was enough to show this when it came into clear view. For our good people, though they fished sometimes, only used rough rods of their own making without any varnish or brass thing for the line and the man was of different height and walk and dress from any of our natives. Who can he be? I whispered to myself as my heart began to beat heavily and then seemed almost to stop as it answered, this is the man who was in the churchyard, ignoble as it was and contemptible and vile and traitorous to all duty, my first thought was about my own escape. For I felt that if this man saw me there he would rush up the hill and murder me within pistol shot of the very place where my grandfather had been murdered, a lonely place, an unholy spot and I was looking at the hand that did it. The thought of this made me tremble so, though well aware that my death might ensue from a twig on the rustle or a leaf upon the flutter, that my chance of making off unseen was gone ere I could seize it. For now the man was taking long strides over the worn out planks of the bridge, disdaining the handrail and looking upward as if to shun sight of the footing. Advancing thus he must have had his gaze point blank upon my layer of leafage, but luckily for me there was course upon the ridge and braken and rag-thistles so that none could spy up and through the footing of my lurking place. But if any person could have spied me, this man was the one to do it. So carefully did he scan the distance and inspect the foreground, as if he were resolved that no eye should be upon him while he was doing what he came to do and he even drew forth a little double telescope such as are called binoculars and fixed it on the thicket which hid me from him and then on some other dark places. No effort would compose or hush the heavy beating of my heart. My lips were stiffened with dread of loud breath and all power of motion left me for even a puff of wind might betray me. The ruffle of a spray or the lifting of a leaf or the random bounce of a beetle. Great peril had encompassed me ere now but never had it grasped me as this did and paralyzed all the powers of my body. Rather would I have stood in the midst of a score of Mexican rovers than thus in the presence of that one man and yet was not this the very thing for which I had waited, longed and labored? I scorned myself for this craven loss of nerve but that did not enable me to help it. In this benumbed horror I durst not even peep at the doings of my enemy but presently I became aware that he had moved from the end of the planks where he stood for some time as calmly as if he had done nothing there and had passed round the back of the Hawthorne tree and gone down to the place where the body was found and was making most narrow and minute search there. And now I could watch him without much danger standing as I did well above him while his eyes were steadfastly bent downward and not content with eyesight only he seemed to be feeling every blade of grass or weed every single stick or stone craning into each cranny of the ground and probing every claw with his hands. Then after vainly searching with the very utmost care all the space from the Hawthorne trunk to the Meadowlete which was dry as usual he ran in a fury of impatience to his rod which he had stuck into the bank as now I saw and drew off the butt end and removed the wheel or whatever it is that holds the fishing line.  This made me shudder but my spirit was returning and therewith my power of reasoning and a deep stir of curiosity. After so many years and such a quantity of searching what could there still be left to seek for in this haunted and horrible place and who was the man that was looking for it? The latter question partly solved itself. It must be the murderer and no other whoever he might be among the many black spots of humanity. But as to the other point no light could be thrown upon it unless the search should be successful and perhaps not even then. But now this anxiety and shame of terror made me so bold for I cannot call it brave that I could not rest satisfied where I was and instead of blessing every leaf and twig that hid me from the enemy nothing would do but for me to creep near in spite of that truculent long bright spike. I thought of my father and every fiber of my frame seemed to harden with vigor and fleetness. Every muscle of my body could be trusted now. I had always been remarkably light afoot. Could a man of that age catch me? It was almost as much as firm Gundry could do as in childish days I had proved to him and this man, although his hair was not gray must be on the slow side of 50 now and perhaps getting short of his very wicked breath. Then I thought of poor firm and of good Uncle Sam and how they scorned Paltunary and better still I thought of that great power which had always protected me in a word I resolved to risk it. But I had not reckoned upon firearms which such a scoundrel was pretty sure to have and that idea struck cold upon my valor. Nevertheless I would not turn back with no more sound than a field mouse makes in the building of its silken nest and feet as light as the step of the wind upon the scarcely ruffled grass. I quitted my screen and went gliding down a hedge or rather the residue of some old hedge which would shelter me a little toward the hollow of the banks. I passed low places where the man must have seen me if he had happened to look up but he was stooping with his back to me and working in the hollow of the dry river trough and he was digging with the long spike of his rod and I heard the rattle of each pebble that he struck.  It was quite impossible to get near without coming face to face with him and now I began again to tremble but with a great effort conquered it. The man was panting with his labor and seemed to be in a vile temper too. He did not swear but made low noises full of disappointment and then he caught up his tool with a savage self-control and fell to it again. Now was my time to see what he was like and to engrave him on my memory but low in a moment I need not do that. The face was the bad image of my father's a lowered and vicious and ill-bred image of a noble countenance such as it was just possible to dream that my dear father's might have fallen to if his mind and soul had plunged away from the good inborn and implanted in them. The figure was that of a tall, strong man with shoulders rather slouching and a habit of keeping his head thrown back which made a long chin look longer. All together he seemed a perilous foe and perhaps a friend still more perilous. Be he what he might, he was working very hard. Not one of all Uncle Sam's men to my knowledge least of all Martin would have worked so hard. With his narrow and ill-adapted tool he contrived to turn over in less than 20 minutes the entire bed of the metalete or trough for length of about 10 yards. Then he came to the mouth where the water of the mainstream lapped back into it and he turned up the bottom as far as he could reach and waited for the mud he had raised to clear away. When this had flowed down with the stream he walked in for some little distance till the pool grew deep but in spite of all his labor there was nothing. Meanwhile the sunset glow was failing and a gray autumnal haze crept up the tranquil valley. Shadows waned and faded into dimness more diffuse and light grew soft and vague and vaporous. The gleam of water and the gloss of grass and deep relief of trees began to lose their several phase and mingle into one large twilight blend and cattle from their milking sheds came lowing for more pasture and the bark of a shepherd's dog ran quick as if his sheep were drowsy. In the midst of innocent sights and sounds that murderer's heart misgave him. He left his vein quest off and gazed with fear and hate of nature's bounty at the change from day to night which had not waited for him. Some touch of his childhood moved him perhaps some thought of times when he had played I Spy or listened to twilight ghost tales at any rate as he rose and faced the evening he sighed heavily.  I will perhaps be confessed by all who are not as brave as lions that so far I had acquitted myself pretty well in this trying matter. Horribly scared as I was at first I had not allowed this to conquer me but he'd even rushed into new jeopardy but now the best part of my courage was spent and when the tall stranger refixed his rod and calmly recrossed those ominous planks I durst not set forth on the perilous errand of spying out his ways and tracking him. A glance was enough to show the impossibility in those long meadows of following without being seen in the stage of the twilight. Moreover my nerves had been tried too long and presence of mine could not last forever. All I could do therefore was to creep as far as the trunk of the Hawthorne tree and thence observe that my enemy did not return by the way he had come but hastened down the dusky valley. One part of his labors has not been described though doubtless a highly needful one. To erase the traces of his work or at least obscure them to the careless eye when he had turned as much ground as he thought it worth his while to meddle with he trod it back again to its level as nearly as might be and then with a can out of his fishing basket sluiced the place well with the water of the stream. This made it look to any heedless person who would not descend to examine it as if there had been nothing more than a little reflux from the river caused by a flush from the mill pond. This little stratagem increased my fear of a cunning and active villain. End of chapter 40. Chapter 41 of Arima. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Marianne Spiegel in Chicago, Illinois. Arima by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 41, A Strong Temptation. Now it will be said and I also knew that there was nothing as yet except most frail and feeble evidence to connect that nameless stranger with any crime charged upon my father. Indeed, it might be argued well that there was no evidence at all, only inference and suspicion. That, however, was no fault of mine and I felt as sure about it as if I had seen him in the very act. And this conclusion was not mine alone for Mrs. Busk, a most clever woman and the one who kept the post office entirely agreed with me that there could be no doubt on earth about it. But when she went on to ask me what it was my intention to do next, for the moment I could do nothing more than inquire what her opinion was. And she told me that she must have a good night's rest before advising anything. For the thought of having such a heinous character in her own delivery district was enough to unhinge her from her postal duties, some of which might be useful to me. With a significant glance she left me to my own thoughts, which were sad enough and too sad to be worth recording. For Mrs. Busk had not the art of rousing people and cheering them, such as Betsy Strauss, my old nurse had, perhaps from her knowledge of the nursery. My present landlady might be the more sagacious and sensible woman of the two and therefore the better advisor, but for keeping one up to the mark she was not in any way equal to Betsy. There is no ingratitude in saying this because she herself admitted it. A clever woman with a well-balanced mind knows what she can do and wherein she fails, better than a man of her own proportion does. And Mrs. Busk often lamented, without much real mortification, that she had not been born sympathetic. All the more perhaps for that she was born sagacious, which is a less pleasing but in a bitter pinch of more really useful quality.  After looking back along the passage and closing my door, she saw that my little bay window had as old fashioned shutters fastened and then in a very low whisper she said, what you want to know is here, Miss. Indeed, I answered in my usual voice. How can you know that? The letter is sealed. Hush, would you have me ruined for your sake? This was at the bottom of the Nephitan bag. It fell on the floor that was God's will to place it in your power. It is not in my power, I answered, whispering in my turn and staring at it in the strong temptation. I have no right to even look at it. It is meant for someone else and sealed. The seal is nothing. I can manage that, another drop of wax, and I strike our stamp by accident over the breakage. I refuse to know anything about it. I am too busy with the other letters. Five minutes, lock the door and I will come again. This was a desperate conflict for me, worse even than bodily danger. My first impulse was to have nothing to do with it, even to let the letter lie untouched and, if possible, unglanced at. But already it was too late for the eyes to turn away. The address had flashed upon me before I thought of anything. And while Mrs. Busk held it up to me, and now that address was staring at me like a contemptuous challenge, while the seal, the symbol of private rights and to turn honor late undermost. The letter was directed to H.W.C., Post Office, Newport, Sussex. The writing was in round hand and clear, so as not to demand any scrutiny and to seem like that of a lawyer's clerk. And the envelope was a thin, repellent blue. My second impulse was to break the letter open and read it without shrinking. Public duty must conquer private scruples. Nothing but the hand of Providence itself could have placed this deadly secret in my power so amazingly, away with osqueemishness and perhaps prevent more murder. But that perhaps gave me sudden pause. I had caught up the letter and stood near the candle to soften the wax and lift the cover with a small sharp paper knife. When it flashed on my mind that my cousin would condemn and scorn what I was doing, unconsciously I must have made him now my standard of human judgment or what made me think of him at that moment. I threw down the letter and then I knew. The image of Lord Castlewood had crossed my mind because the initials were his own, those of Herbert William Castlewood. From this strange coincidence, if it were indeed an accident, once more set me thinking. Might not this letter be from his agent of whom he had spoken as my protector here, but to whom, as all unseen, I scarcely ever gave a thought? Might not young Stixon, who so often was at Bruntsey, be employed to call it Newport for such letters and return with them to his master? It was not very likely for my cousin had the strongest contempt of anonymous doings. Still it was possible and the bare possibility doubled my reluctance to break the seal. For one minute longer I stood in doubt and then honor and candor and truth prevailed. If any other life had been imperiled but my own, duty to another might have overridden all, but duty to one's self, if overpushed in such a case, would hold some taint of cowardice. So I threw the letter with a sense of loathing on a chair. Whatever it might contain, it should pass at least for me in violet. Now when Mrs. Busk came to see what I had done or rather left undone, she flew into a towering passion until she had no time to go on with it. The rattle of the rickety old male cart on its way to Winchester that night was heard and the horn of the driver as he passed the church. Give it me a mercy, a young natural that you are, the good woman cried as she flung out of the room to dash her office stamp upon that hateful missive and to seal the leather bag. Seal indeed, in violet. How many seals have I got to make every day of my life? I heard a great thump from the corner of the shop where the business of the males was conducted and she told me afterwards that she was so put out that broken that seal should be one way or another. Accordingly, she smashed it with the office stamp, which was rather like a woman's act, we thought, and then having broken it, she never looked inside, which perhaps was even more so. When she recovered her leisure and serenity and came in to forgive me and be forgiven, we resolved to dismiss the moral aspect of the question as we never should agree about it, although Mrs. Busk was not so certain as she had been when she found out that the initials were the initials of a lord. And then I asked her how she came to fix upon that letter among so many others and to feel so sure that it came from my treacherous enemy. In the first place, I know every letter from Nefertun, she answered very sensibly. There are only 14 people that write letters in the place and 12 of those 14 buy their paper in my shop. There's no shop at all at Nefertun. In the next place, none of them could write to him like that except the parson and the doctor who are far above disguise. And two other things made me certain as could be. That letter was written at the Green Man alehouse, not on their paper nor yet with their ink, but being in great hurry, it was dusted with their sand, a sand that turns red upon ink miss. And the time of dispatch there is just what he would catch by walking fast after his dig where you saw him, going in that direction too and then having his materials ready to save time.  To be sure I do, the first evening I was left alone here and you have been so kind, there is nothing I would hide from you. Well miss, the time of old Jacob's tale is fixed by the death of poor old Sally Mock and the stranger came again after you were here just before the death of the miller's eldest daughter and you might almost have seen him, poor thing, we all called her flower of the moon, meaning our little river, what a fine young woman she was to be sure. Whenever we heard any strangers about, we thought they were prowling after her. I was invited to her funeral and I went and nothing could be done nicer but they never will be punctual with burials here. They like to dwell on them and keep the bell going for the sake of the body and the souls that must come after it. And so when it was done, I was 20 minutes late for the upmail and the cross country post and had to move my hands pretty sharp, I can assure you. And that doesn't matter, I got through it with the driver of the cart obliging by means of some beer and cold bacon but what I feared most was the Nefertum bag having seen the old man at the funeral and knowing what they do afterward. I could not return him too late again or he would lose his place for certain and a shilling a day made all the difference to him between wife and no wife. The old pair without it must go to the workhouse and never see one another. However, when I was despairing quite of him, up he comes with his bag quite correct but only one letter to sort in it and that letter was missed the very identical of the one you held in your hands just now and a letter as like it as two peas had come when we buried old Sally. It puzzled me then but I had no clue to it only now you see putting this and that together the things we behold must have some meaning for us and to let them go without it is against the will of God especially when at the bottom of the bag. If you hear so soon of any stranger in the valley I asked to escape the reopening of the opening question how can that man come and go a man of remarkable stature and appearance without anybody asking who he is. You scarcely could have put it better miss for me to give the answer. They do ask who he is and they want to know it and would like anybody to tell them but being of a different breed as they are from all outside the Long Valley speaking also with a different voice they fear to talk so freely out of their own ways and places. Anything they can learn in and out among themselves they will learn but anything out of that they let go in the sense of outlandish matter. Bless you miss if your poor grandfather had been shot anywhere else in England how different it would have been for him. For us you mean Mrs. Busk. Do you think the man who did it had that in his mind? Not unless he knew the place as few know it no that was an accident of his luck as many other things have been but the best luck stops at last Mr. Rima and unless I am very much mistaken you will be the stop of his. I shall find out in a few days where he came from where he stayed and when he went away I suppose you mean to let him go away. What else am I to do I asked I have no evidence at all against him only my own ideas the police would scarcely take it up even if oh don't talk of them they spoil everything and none of our people would say a word or care to help us if it came to that the police are all strangers and our people hate them and indeed I believe that the worst thing ever done was the meddling of that old jobbans the old stupid still alive at Petersfield and as pompous headed as ever my father would have been the man for your set of fair miss if the police had only been invented in his time ah yes he was sharp not a monstock man you may take your oath of that miss but a good honest native from Essex but he married my mother a moonstock woman or they would not put up with me here at all you quality people have your ideas to hold by and despise all others and reasonable in your opinions but you know nothing nothing nothing of the stiffness of the people under you how should I know anything of that I answered all these things are new to me I've not been brought up in this country as you know I came from a larger land where your stiffness may have burst out into roughness from having so much room suddenly but tell me what you think now your father would have done in such a case as mine miss Arima he was that long-headed that nobody could play leapfrog with him none of them ever cleared over his barrel he walked into this village fifty-five years back this very month with his spade on his shoulder and the knowledge of everybody in his eye they all put up against him but they never put him down and in less than three months he went to church I do assure you with the only daughter of the only baker after that he went into the baking line himself he turned his spade into a shovel as he said and he introduced new practices oh mrs. busk not adulteration no miss no the very last thing he would think of only the good use of potatoes in the bread when flour was frightfully bad and painfully dear what is the best meal of the day he used to reason dinner and why why because of the potatoes if I can make people take potato for their breakfast and potato for their supper too I'm giving them three meals a day instead of one and the health of the village will correspond to it oh but mrs. busk he might have made them do it by persuasion or at least with their own knowledge no miss no the whole nature of our people moon stock or out of it is never to take visuals by any sort of persuasion if st. paul was to come and preach eat this or that all I had of it in the shop would go rotten they hate any meddling with their likings and they suspect doctors rubbish in all of it I'm quite of their opinion I replied and I'm glad to hear their independence I always used to hear that in England none of the poor people dared to have a will of their own mrs. busk lifted up her hands to express amazement at my ignorance and said that she must run away and put the shutters up or else the policeman would come wrapping and look for a glass of beer which he had no right to till it came to the bottom of the furkan and this one was only tapped last Sunday week don't you ever think of the policemen's probably this was good advice and it quite agreed with the opinions of others and my own impressions as to the arrogant lethargy of the force as they call themselves in my father's case mrs. busk have more activity and intelligence in her little head then all the fat sergeants and inspectors of the county helmet belt and staff and all and of chapter forty one chapter forty two of arama this is a labor box recording all labor box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit labor box dot org recording by lynda dodge iraima by rd blackmore chapter forty two master withy pool at first i was much inclined to run for help or at least for counsel either to lord castle would or to major hawken but further consideration kept me from doing anything of the kind in the first place neither of them would do much good for my cousin's ill health would prevent him from helping me even if his strange view of the case did not while the excellent major was much too hot and hasty for a delicate task like this and again i might lose the most valuable and important of all chances by being away from the spot just now and so i remained at shocks for for a while keeping strict watch upon the strangers haunt and asking about him by means of mrs busk i have heard more about him miss she said one day when the down letters had been dispatched which happened about middle day he has been here only those three times this summer upon excuse of fishing always he stays at old wellum about five miles down the river where the people are not true moonites and one thing that puzzles them is that although he puts up there simply for the angling he always chooses times when the water is so low that to catch fishes next to impossible he left his fishing quarters upon the very day after you saw him searching so and he spoke as if he did not mean to come again this season and they say they don't want him neither he is such a morose close fisted man and drinking nothing but water there is a very little profit with him did you find out what his name is how cleverly you have managed he passes by the name of captain brown unquote but the landlord of the end who has been an old soldier is sure he was never in the army nor any other branch of the service he thinks that he lives by inventing things for he is always at some experiments and one of his great points is to make a lamp that will burn and move about underwater to be sure you see the object of that mess really mrs buske I cannot I have not your penetration why of course to find what he cannot find upon land there is something of great importance there either for its value or its meaning have you ever been told that your poor grandfather wore any diamonds or precious jewels no I have asked about that most especially he had nothing about him to tempt a robber he was a very strong willed man and he hated outward trumpery then it must be something that this man himself has dropped unless it were a document or any other token missing from his lordship and few things of that sort would last for twenty years almost nineteen years a day after tomorrow I answered with a glance at my pocket book I determined to be here on that very day no doubt I am very superstitious but one thing I cannot understand is this what reason can there have been for his letting so many years past and then hunting like this no one can answer that question miss without knowing more than we know but many reasons might be supposed he might have been roving abroad for instance just like you and her father have been or he might not have known that thing was there or it might not have been of importance until lately or he might have been afraid and till something else has happened does he know that you are now in England how can I possibly tell Mrs. Buske he seems to know a great deal too much he found me out when I was at Colonel Gundry's at least I conclude so from what I know now but I hope he does not know and that's such a dreadful idea I shuttered I am almost sure that he cannot know it the good postmistress answered or he would have found means to put an end to you that would have been his first object but Mrs. Buske I said being much disturbed by her calmness surely surely he is not to be allowed to make an end of everyone I came to this country with the full intention of going into everything but I did not mean at all except in my very best moments to sacrifice myself it seems too bad too bad to think of so it is Mr. Rayma Mrs. Buske replied without any congenial excitement it does seem hard for them that has the liability on them but still miss you have always shown such a high sense of duty and of what you were about I can't I cannot there are times I do assure you when I am fit for nothing Mrs. Buske and I wish myself back in America and if this man is to have it all his own way not he miss not he be you in no hurry could he even have his way with our old Miller no Master Whithypool was too many for him well that is a new thing you never told me that what did he try to do with the Miller I don't justly know what it was Mrs. Rayma I never spoke to Miller about it and indeed I have had no time since I heard of it but those that told me said that the tall strange gentleman was terribly put out and left the gate with the black cloud upon his face and the very next day the Miller's daughter died quite sudden and mysterious how very strange but now I've got a new idea has the Miller a strong high dam to his pond and a good stout snooze gate at the end yes miss to be sure he has said Mrs. Buske otherwise how could he grind at all when the river is so low as it is sometimes then I know what he wanted and I will take a leaf out of his own book the miscreant he wanted the Miller to stop back the water and leave the pool dry at the quote murder bridge unquote would it be possible for him to do that I cannot tell you miss but your thought is very clever it is likely enough that he did want that though he would never dare to ask without some pretense some other cause I mean to show for it he may have been thinking that whatever he was wanting was likely to be underwater and that shows another thing if it is so Mrs. Buske my head goes round with such a host of complications I do my best to think them out and then there comes another no miss this only clears things up a little if the man cannot be sure whether what he is looking for is on land or underwater it seems to me almost to show that it was lost at the murder time in the dark and flurry a man would know if he dropped anything in the water by daylight from the splash and the ripple and so on for the stream is quite slow at that corner he dropped it miss when he did the deed or else it came away from his lordship nothing was lost as I said before from the body of my grandfather so far at least as our knowledge goes whatever was lost was the murderers now pleased to tell me all about the Miller and how I may get round him you make me laugh in the middle of black things miss by the way you have a pudding them but as to the Miller master withy pool is a wonder as concerns the ladies he is one of those men that stand up for everything when a man tries upper side of them but little woman come and get up under and there he is a pie crust lifted why I at my age could get round him as you call it but you miss and more than that you are something like his daughter and the old man frets after her terrible go you into his yard and just smile upon him miss and if the moon river can be stopped he'll stop it for you this seemed a very easy way to do it but I told Mrs. Busk that I would pay well also for the loss of a day's work at the mill was more than 50 smiles could make up but she told me above all things not to do that her old master withy pool was of that sort that he would stand for an hour with his hands in his pocket for a half penny if not just the owing from him but nothing more angered him than a bribe to step outside of his duty he had plenty of money and was proud of it but sooner would he lose a day's work to do a kindness when he was sure of having right behind it then take a week's profit without earning it and very likely that was where the dark man failed from presuming that money would do everything however, there was nothing like judging for oneself and if I would like to be introduced she could do it for me with the best effect taking as she did a good hundred weight of her best quote households unquote from him every week although not herself in the baking line but always keeping corn turn bags because the new baker did adulterate so I thought of her father and how things work around but that they would do without remarks of mine so I said nothing on that point but as whether master withy pool would require any introduction and to this Mrs. Busk said oh dear no and her throat had been a little rough since Sunday and the dog was chained tight even if any dog would bite a sweet young lady and to her mind the miller would be more taken up and less fit to vapor into obstacles if I were to hit upon him all alone just when he came out to the bank of his cabbage garden not so very long after his dinner to smoke his pipe and to see his things are growing it was time to get ready if I meant to catch him then for he always dined at one o'clock and the mill was some three or four meadows up the stream therefore as soon as Mrs. Busk had reassured me that she was quite certain of my enemies departure I took my drawing things and set forth to call upon master withy pool passing through the churchyard which was my nearest way and glancing sadly at the ferry ring I began to have some uneasiness about the possible issue of my new scheme such a thing required more thinking out than I had given to it for instance what reason could I give the miller for asking so strange a thing of him and how could the whole of the valley be hindered from making the greatest talk about the stoppage of their own beloved moon even if the moon could be stopped without every one of them rushing down to see it and if it was so talked of would it not be certain to come to the ears of that awful man and if so how long before he found me out and sent me to rejoin my family these thoughts compelled me to be more discreet and having lately done a most honorable thing in refusing to read that letter I felt a certain right to play a little trick now of purely harmless character I ran back therefore to my writing desk and took from its secret drawer a beautiful golden American eagle a large coin larger and handsomer than any in English coinage Uncle Sam gave it to me on my birthday and I would not have taken 50 pounds for it with this I hurried to that bridge of fear which I had not yet brought myself to go across and then not to tell any story about it I snipped a little hole in the corner of my pocket while my hand was still steady air I had to mount the bridge then pinching that hole up with a little squeeze I ran and got upon that wicked bridge and then let go the heavy gold coin fell upon the rotten plank and happily rolled into the water as if it were glad not to tempt its makers to any more sin for the sake of it shutting up thought for fear of despising myself for the coinage of such a little trick I hurried across the long meadow to the mill and went through the cow gate into the yard and the dog began to bark at me seeing that he had a strong chain on I regarded him with lofty indignation Do you know what Jaller would do to you, I said? Jaller, a dog worth ten of you he would take you by the neck and drop you into that pond for daring to insult his mistress The dog appeared to feel the force of my remarks for he lay down again and with one eye watched me in a manner amusing but insidious then taking good care to keep out of his reach I went to the mill pond and examined it it looked like a very nice pond indeed long and large and well-banked up not made into any particular shape but producing little rushy elbows the water was now rather low and very bright though the moon itself is not a crystal stream and a school of young minnows just watching a water spider with desire as all at sight of me broke away and reunited with a speed and a precision that might shame the whole of our very best modern fighting then many other things made a dart away and furrowed the shadow of the willows till distance quieted the fear of man that most mysterious thing in a nature and the shallow pool was at peace again and bright with unruffled reflections What ails the dog? said a deep gruff voice and the poor dog received a contemptuous push not enough to hurt him but to wound his feelings for doing his primary duty Servant, miss, what can I do for you? Footpath is to other side of that there hedge Yes, but I left the footpath on purpose I came to have a talk with you if you will allow me Sarton, sarton the miller replied lifting a broad flowery hat and showing a large gray head Will you come to the house, miss, or into the garden? I chose the garden and he led the way and set me down upon an old oak bench where the tinkle of the water through the floodgates could be heard So you'd be to come to paint the mill at last, he said Many a time I looked out for you the young lady down to mother busts, of course Many's the time we've longed for you to come you reminds me so of somebody why my old missus can't set eyes on you in church, miss without being forced to sit down the most but we thought it very pretty of you not to come, miss while the trouble was so new upon us Something in my look or voice made the old man often turn away while I told him that I would make the very best drawing of his mill that I could manage and would beg him to accept it Her oughta been on the plank, he said with trouble getting his words out But there, what good? Her will never stand on that plank no more No, nor any other plank I told him that I would put her on the plank if he had any portrait of her showing her dress and her attitude Without saying what he had he led me to the house and stood behind me while I went inside and then he could not keep his voice as I went from one picture of his darling to another not thinking, as I should have done of what his feelings might be but trying as no two were alike at all to extract a general idea of her Nobody knows what her were to me, the old man said with a quiet noise and a sniff behind my shoulder and with one day's illness her died her died But you have others left She was not the only one Please, Mr. Whithypool, to try to think of that and your dear wife still alive to share your trouble Just think for a moment of what happened to my father His wife and six children all swept off in a month and I just borne to be brought up with a bottle I never meant, of course, to have said a word of this but was carried away by that common old idea of consoling great sorrow with a greater one and the sense of my imprudence broke vicaciously upon me when the old man came and stood between me and his daughter's portraits Well, I never, he exclaimed with his bright eyes steadfast with amazement I know you now, miss, now I know you to think what a set of blind newts us must be and you, the very moral of your poor father in a female kind of way to be sure how well I knew the captain, a nicer man never walked the earth, neither a more unlucky one Oh, I beg you, let me beg you, I began to say since you have found me out like this Hush, mishush, not my own wife shall know unless your own tongue telleth her A proud man I shall be, miss Raumer, he continued with emphasis on my local name if ought can be find in my power to serve you why, Lord, bless you, miss he whispered, looking around your father and I has spent hours together he were that pleasant in his ways and words he would drop in from his fishing when the water was too low and sit on that very same bench where you sat and smoke his pipe with me and tell me about battles and ask me about bread and many a time I've slipped up to the gate to give him more water for his flies to play and the fish not to see him so plainly ah, we've had many a pleasant spells together and his eldest boy and girl master George and miss Henrietta used to come and fetch our eggs my Polly there was in love with them, we said she sat upon his lap so when she were two years old and played with his beautiful hair and blubbered oh, she did blubber when the captain went away this invested Polly with new interest for me and made me determined to spare no pains in putting her pretty figure well upon the plank then I said to the miller how kind of you to draw up your sleuth skates to oblige my father now will you put them down and keep them down to do a great service both to him and me without a moment's hesitation he promised that anything he could do should be done if I would only tell him what I wanted but perhaps it would be better to have our talk outside taking this hint I followed him back to the bench in the open garden and there explained what I wish to have done and no longer concealed the true reason the good miller answered that with all his heart he would do that much to oblige me and a hundred times more than that but some little thought and care were needful with the river so low as it was now he could easily stop the backwater and receive the whole of the current in his dam and keep it from flowing down his wheel trough and thus dry the lower channel for perhaps half an hour which would be ample for my purpose engineering difficulties there were none but two or three other things must be heated miller sims a mile or two down river must be settled with to fill his dam well and to begin to discharge when the upper water failed so as not to dry the moon all down the valley which would have caused a commotion miller sims being his own brother-in-law to master withie pool that could be arranged easily enough after one day's notice but a harder thing to manage would be to do the business without rousing curiosity and setting abroad a rumor which would be sure to reach my enemy and the hardest thing of all said master withie pool smiling as he thought of what himself had once been would be to keep those blessing boys away who find out everything and go everywhere not a boy of shoxford but that would be in the river dancing upon its empty bed screeching and scalloping up into his hat any poor bewildered trout chased into the puddles if it were allowed to leak out however feebly that the moon water was to stop running and then how was I to seek for anything this was a puzzle but with counsel we did solve it and we quietly stopped the moon without man or boy being much the wiser end of chapter 42 chapter 43 of arama this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Linda Dodge Erema by R. D. Blackmore chapter 43 going to the bottom it is not needful to explain everything any more than it was for me to tell the miller about my golden eagle and how I managed to lose it in the moon a trick of which now I was heartily ashamed in the face of honest kindness so I need not tell how master withypool managed to settle with his men and to keep the boys unwitting of what was about to come to pass enough that I got a note from him to tell me that the little river would be run out just when all shocksford was intent upon its dinner on the second day after I had seen him and he could not say for certain but he thought it pretty safe that nobody would come near me if I managed to be there a quarter before one when the stream would begin to run dry and I could watch it I sent back a line by the pretty little girl a sister of poor Polly to say how much I thanked him and how much I hoped that he himself would meet me there if his time allowed for he had been too delicate to say a word of that but I felt that he had a good right to be there and knowing him now I was not afraid nearly everything came about as well as could be wished almost master withypool took the precaution early in the morning to set his great fierce bull at large who had always stopped the footpath this bull knew well the powers of a valley in conducting sound and he loved to stand as if at the mouth of a funnel and roared down it to another bull a mile below him belonging to his master's brother-in-law and when he did this there was scarcely a boy much less a man or woman with any desire to assert against him the public right a thoroughfare throughout that forenoon then this bull bellowed nobly still finding very many wicked flies about so that the two mitching boys who meant the fish for minnows with a pin were obliged to run away again however I was in the dark about him and as much afraid of him as anybody when he broke into sight of me round a corner without any tokens of amity I had seen a great many great bulls before including Uncle Sam's good black one who might not have meant any mischief at all and atone for it if he did by being washed away so and therefore my courage soon returned when it became quite clear that this animal now had been fastened by a rope and could come no nearer for some little time then I waited all alone as near that bridge as I could bring myself to stand for Mrs. Busk my landlady could not leave the house yet on account of the midday letters moreover she thought that she'd better stay away as our object was to do things as quietly as could be much as I had watched this bridge from a distance or from my sheltering place I had never been able to bring myself to make any kind of sketch of it or even to insert it in a landscape although it was very well suited and expressive from its crooked and antique simplicity the overhanging also of the Hawthorne tree not ready yet but russety with its coloring crop of coral and the shaggy freaks of ivy above the twisted trunk and the curve of the meadows and the bold elbow of the brook were such as an artist would have pitched his tip for and tantalized poor london people with a dream of cool repose as yet the little river showed no signs of doing what the rustic or surely it should have been the cockney was supposed to stand still and wait for there was no great brush of headlong water for that is not the manner of the stream in the very worst of weather but there was the usual style of coming on with lips and steps at the sides and cords of running toward the middle quite enough at any rate to make the trout jump without any omen of impending drought and to keep all the play and the sway of movement going on serenely I began to be afraid that the miller must have failed in his stratagem against the water god and that as I had read in Pope's Homer the liquid deity would beat the hero when all of a sudden there were signs that the man was the master of this little rustic broadswords of flag and rapiers of water grass which had been quivering merely began to hang down and to dip themselves in loops and the stones of the brink showed dark green stripes on their sides as they stood naked then fine little cakes of conglomerated stuff which only a great man of nature could describe came floating about and curdling into corners and holding on to one another in long tailed strings but they might do what they liked and make their very best of it as they fell away to nothing upon stones and mud for now more important things began to open the like of which had never been yielded up before plots of slimy gravel varied with long streaks of yellow mud dotted with large double shells and parted into little oozy runs by wriggling waterweeds and here was great commotion and sad panic of the fish large fellows splashing and quite jumping out of the water as their favorite hovers and shelves ran dry and darting away with their poor little backs in the air to the deepest hole they could think of hundreds must have come to flower lard and butter if boys had been there to take advantage but luckily things had been done so well that boys were now in their least injurious moment destroying nothing worse than their own dinners a very little way below the old wooden bridge the little river ran into a deepish pool as generally happens at or near a corner especially where there is a confluence sometimes and seeing nothing as I began to search intently stirring with a long handled spud which I had brought I concluded that even my golden eagle had been carried into that deep place however water or no water I resolved to have it out with that dark pool as soon as the rest of the channel should be drained which took a tormenting time to do and having thick boots on I pinned up my skirts and jumping down into the shoals I began to paddle in a fashion which reminded me of childish days that passed pleasantly in the blue river too busy this to give a thought to any other thing I did not even see the miller until he said good day miss lifting his hat with a nice kind smile very busy miss I see and right you are to be so the water will be upon us again in less than half an hour now let me clear away the black weeds for you I bought this little shrivel of purpose if I may make so bold miss what do we look to find here I have not the very smallest notion I could only answer but if there is anything it must be in that hole I have searched all the shallow parts so closely that I doubt whether even a six pence to it could escape me unless it were buried in the mud or pebbles oh how can I manage to search that hole there must be a yard of water there one thing I ought to a toadie for to do master withy pulled whispered as he went on shoveling to do what the boys do when they lose a fart in to send another one after him if so be now before the water was run out you'd stood on that there bridge and dropped a bright coin onto it a new half crown or two shilling piece why the chances would be that the run of the current would take it nigh to the likeliest spot for holding the other little matter as might have dropped permiscus you might say into this same water I have done so I answered I have done that very thing so not at all with that object the day before yesterday a beautiful coin a golden eagle of America fell from my pocket on that upper plank and rolled into the water I would not lose it for a great deal because it was given to me by my dearest friend the greatest of all millers and hadn't you found it yet miss well that is queer perhaps we shall find it now with something in the back of it I thought you hole was too far below the bridge but there your gold must be and something else most likely plays to wait a little bit and us know have the wet atom I never should have thought of that but for your gold guinea though with these words master withy pool pulled his coat off and rolled up his shirt sleeves displaying arms fit to hold their own even with uncle Sam's almost and then he fell to with his shovel and dug while I ran with my little spud to help plies to keep out of the way miss I feared a knock in you not but what you works very brave indeed miss knowing what men are concerning female efforts I got out of the strong man's way although there was plenty of room for me what he wanted to do was plain enough to dig a trench down the empty bed of the moon river deep enough to drain that pit before the stream came down again never thought to run a race against my own old damn he said as he stopped for a moment to recover breath us never knows what us might have to do old damn must be almost busted now but her sound enough till her begin it to run over I did not say a word because it might have done some mischief but I could not help looking rather anxiously upstream for fear of the water coming down with a rush as it very soon must do master withy pool had been working not as myself would have done from the lips of the dark pit downward but from a steep run some 20 yards below where there was almost a little cascade when the river was full flowing from this he had made his channel upward cutting deeper as he came along till now at the brink of the obstinate pool his trench was two feet deep almost I had no idea that any man could work so with a shuttle which seems such a clumsy tool compared with a spade but a gentleman who knows the country and the people told me that with their native weapon moonites will do as much digging in an hour as other folk get through in an hour and a half with a spade but this may be only perhaps because they are working harder now said master withy pool at last standing up with a very red face and desiring to keep all that unheeded now miss to you it belongs to tap this here little corner if desirable plays to excuse me of going up the bank to tell me when the wet coming down again oh please to do nothing of the sort I answered knowing that he had offered to stand out of sight from a delicate dread of intrusion pleased to tap the pool yourself and stay here as witness of what we find in it as you plies miss as you plies not a moment for to lose an argon harken now the water is it stopping off our dam her will be here in five minutes with three or four rapid turns of his shovel which he spun almost as fast as the housemaid spins a mop he fetched out the plug of earth severing his channel from the deep reluctant hole and then I saw the wisdom of his way of working for if he had done downward from the pool itself the water would have followed him all the way and even drowned his tool out of its own strokes whereas now with a swirl and a curl of ropey mud away rest the thick sluggish obstinate fluid and in less than two minutes the hole was almost dry the first thing I saw was my golden eagle lodged about halfway down the slope on across the black sludge from which I caught it up and presented it to master withy pool as a small token and record of his kindness and to this day he carries it upon his sunday watch chain I am always lucky in finding things I explained while he watched me and the upstream too whence a babble of water was approaching as sure as I live I have found it no doubt about your living miss and the captain were always lively but what have your bright eyes hit upon I see nort for the life of me look here I cried at the very bottom of it almost under the water here where I put my spud a bright blue line oh can I go down or is it quick sand no quick sand in our little river miss but your father's daughter should not go into the muck while John withy pool stands by I see him now sure enough now I see him but her need of care or her may all go away in mullock well I thought my eyes was sharp enough but I'm blessed if I should have spied that though a bitter flint maybe or a blue glass bottle anyhow us will see the bottom of him he was wasting no time while he spoke but working steadfastly for his purpose fixing the blade of his shovel below the little blue line I was peering at so that no slip of the soft yellow slush should bury it down and plunge over it if that had once happened goodbye to all chance of ever beholding this thing again for the river was coming with fury and foam to assert its ancient right of way with a short laugh the miller jumped down into the pit me to be served so by my own mill stream lore if I don't pay you out for this his righteous wrath failed to stop the water from pouring into the pit behind him and as strong as he was he nearly lost his footing having only mud to stand upon it seemed to me that he was going to be drowned and I offered him the handle of my spud to help him but he stopped where he was and was not going to be hurried I gotta now he said now I don't mind coming out you see if I don't pay you out for this why I always took you for a reasonable animal he shook his fist strongly at the river which had him well up to the middle by this time and then he distinctly waited out with wrath in all of his countenance I have a great mind to stop there and see what her would do he said to me for getting all together what he went for and I would if I'd had my dinner a scant of a thing as I can manage with my thumb ah you have made a bad day of it but what have you found mr. withy pole I asked for I could not enter into his wrath against the water wet as he was to the shoulders you have something in your hand may I see it if you please and then do please to go home and change your clothes a thing I never did in my life miss and should be ashamed to begin at this age clothes get wet and clothes dries on us same as undead on the sheep before us else they get stiff and greasy what this little thing is near a body may tell in my line of life but look at aristocratic the mullock as he called it from his hands and from the bed where it had lain so long so crusted the little thing which he gave me that I dipped it again in the swelling stream and rubbed it with both hands to make out what it was and then I thought how long it had lain there and suddenly to my memory it came that in all likelihood the time of that was 19 years this very day will another year pass I cried before I make out all about it what are you and who now looking at me with such sad sad eyes for I held in my hand a most handsome locket of blue enamel and diamonds with a back of chased gold and in front the miniature of a beautiful young woman done as a never seemed to do them now the work was so good and the fitting so close that no drop of water had entered and the face shown through the crystal glass as fresh as the day it was painted a very lovely face it was yet touched with a shade of sadness as the loveliest faces generally are and the first thought of any beholder would be that woman was born for sorrow the Miller said as much when I showed it to him Lord bless my heart I hope the poor creature hadn't lasted half as long as her picture half end of chapter 43