The Broad Highway by Jeffery Farnol (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) đ
- Author: Jeffery Farnol
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âWell, âe wonât never do it no more,â said Job, glowering; âwhat wiâ poachinâ âis game, anâ knockinâ âis keepers about, ât arenât likely as Squire Beverleyâll let âim off very easyââ
âWho?â said I, looking up, and speaking for the first time.
âSquire Beverley oâ Burnâam âAll.â
âSir Peregrine Beverley?â
âAy, for sure.â
âAnd how far is it to Burnham Hall?â
ââOw fur?â repeated Job, staring; âwhy, it lays ât other side oâ Horsmondenââ
âIt be a matter oâ eight mile, Peter,â said the Ancient. âNine, Peter!â cried old Amosâânine mile, it be!â
âThough I wonât swear, Peter,â continued the Ancient, âI wonât swear as it arenâtâsevenâcall it six anâ three quarters!â said he, with his eagle eye on Old Amos.
âThen I had better start now,â said I, and rose.
âWhy, Peterâwheer be goinâ?â
âTo Burnham Hall, Ancient.â
âWhatâyou?â exclaimed Job; âdâye think Squireâll see you?â
âI think so; yes.â
âWell, âe wonâtâtheyâll never let the likes oâ you or me beyond the gates.â
âThat remains to be seen,â said I.
âSo you âm goinâ, are ye?â
âI certainly am.â
âAll right!â nodded Job, âif they sets the dogs on ye, or chucks you into the roadâdonât go blaminâ it on to me, thatâs all!â
âWhatâbe ye really a-goinâ, Peter?â
âI really am, Ancient.â
âThenâby the Lord!âIâll go wiâ ye.â
âItâs a long walk!â
âNayâSimon shall drive us in the cart.â
âThat I will!â nodded the Innkeeper.
âAy, lad,â cried the Ancient, laying his hand upon my arm, âweâll up anâ see Squire, you anâ meâshall us, Peter? There be some fules,â said he, looking round upon the staring company, âsome fules as talks oâ Botâny Bay, anâ irons, anâ whippinâposts-all I says isâlet âem, Peter, let âem! You anâ meâll up anâ see Squire, Peter, shaânât us? Black Jarge arenât a convicâ yet, let fules say what they will; weâll show âem, Peter, weâll show âem!â So saying, the old man led me into the kitchen of âThe Bull,â while Simon went to have the horses put to.
CHAPTER XXXI
IN WHICH THE ANCIENT IS SURPRISED
A cheery place, at all times, is the kitchen of an English inn, a comfortable place to eat in, to talk in, or to doze in; a place with which your parlors and withdrawing-rooms, your salons (a la the three Louis) with their irritating rococo, their gilt and satin, and spindle-legged discomforts, are not (to my mind) worthy to compare.
And what inn kitchen, in all broad England, was ever brighter, neater, and more comfortable than this kitchen of âThe Bull,â where sweet Prue held supreme sway, with such grave dignity, and with her two white-capped maids to do her bidding and behests? âsurely none. And surely in no inn, tavern, or hostelry soever, great or small, was there ever seen a daintier, prettier, sweeter hostess than this same Prue of ours.
And her presence was reflected everywhere, and, if ever the kitchen of an inn possessed a heart to lose, then, beyond all doubt, this kitchen had lost its heart to Prue long since; even the battered cutlasses crossed upon the wall, the ponderous jack above the hearth, with its legend: ANNO DOMINI 1643, took on a brighter sheen to greet her when she came, and as for the pots and pans, they fairly twinkled.
But today Prueâs eyes were red, and her lips were all a-droop, the which, though her smile was brave and ready, the Ancient was quick to notice.
âWhy, Prue, lass, youâve been weepinâ!â
âYes, grandfer.â
âYour pretty eyes be all swoleâred they be; whatâs the trouble?â
âOh! âtis nothing, dear, âtis just a maidâs fulishnessânever mind me, dear.â
âAh! but I love âee, Prueâcome, kiss meâtheer now, tell me all about itâall about it, Prue.â
âOh, grandfer!â said she, from the hollow of his shoulder, ââtis justâJarge!â The old man grew very still, his mouth opened slowly, and closed with a snap.
âDid âeeâdidâee sayâJarge, Prue? Is itâbreekinâ your âeart ye be for that theer poachinâ Black Jarge? To thinkâas my Prue should come down to a poacbinâââ
Prudence slipped from his encircling arm and stood up very straight and proudâthere were tears thick upon her lashes, but she did not attempt to wipe them away.
âGrandfer,â she said very gently, âyou mustnât speak of Jarge to me like thatâye mustnâtâye mustnât because Iâlove him, and if âhe everâcomes back Iâll marry him ifâif he will only ax me; and if heânever comes back, thenâI thinkâI shallâdie!â The Ancient took out his snuff-box, knocked it, opened it, glanced inside, andâshut it up again.
âDid âee tell me as youâloveâBlack Jarge, Prue?â
âYes, grandfer, I always have and always shall!â
âLoves Black Jarge!â he repeated; âallus âasâallus will! Oh, Lord! what âave I done?â Now, very slowly, a tear crept down his wrinkled cheek, at sight of which Prue gave a little cry, and, kneeling beside his chair, took him in her arms. âOh, my lass! âmy little Prueââtis all my doinâ. I thoughtâOh, Prue, âtwere me as parted you! I thoughtââ The quivering voice broke off.
ââTis all right, grandfer, never think of itâsee there, I be smilinâ!â and she kissed him many times.
âA danged fule I be!â said the old man, shaking his head.
âNo, no, grandfer!â
âThatâs what I be, Prueâa danged fule! If I do go afore that theer old, rusty stapil, âtwill serve me rightâa danged fule I be! Allus loved âimâallus will, anâ wishful to wed wiâ âim! Why, then,â said the Ancient, swallowing two or three times, âso âee shall, my sweetâso âee shall, sure as sure, so come anâ kiss me, anâ forgive the old man as loves âee so.â
âWhat do âee mean, grandfer?â said Prue between two kisses.
âA fine, strappinâ chap be Jarge; arter all, Peter, you beanât a patch on Jarge for looks, be you?â
âNo, indeed, Ancient!â
âWishful to wed âim, she is, anâ so she shall. Lordy Lord! Kiss me again, Prue, for I be goinâ to see Squireâay, I be goinâ to up anâ speak wiâ Squire for Jarge anâ Peter be cominâ too.â
âOh, Mr. Peter!â faltered Prudence, âbe this true?â and in her eyes was the light of a sudden hope.
âYes,â I nodded.
âDâyou think Squireâll see youâlisten to you?â she cried breathlessly.
âI think he will, Prudence,â said I.
âGod bless you, Mr. Peter!â she murmured. âGod bless you!â
But now came the sound of wheels and the voice of Simon, calling, wherefore I took my hat and followed the Ancient to the door, but there Prudence stopped me.
âLast time you met wiâ Jarge he tried to kill you. Oh, I know, and nowâyou be goinâ toââ
âNonsense, Prue!â said I. But, as I spoke, she stooped and would have kissed my hand, but I raised her and kissed her upon the cheek, instead. âFor good luck, Prue,â said I, and so turned and left her.
In the porch sat Job, with Old Amos and the rest, still in solemn conclave over pipes and ale, who watched with gloomy brows as I swung myself up beside the Ancient in the cart.
âA fuleâs journey!â remarked Old Amos sententiously, with a wave of his pipe; âa fuleâs journey!â
The Ancient cast an observing eye up at the cloudless sky, and also nodded solemnly.
âTheer be some fules in this world, Peter, as mixes up rabbits wiâ paâtridges, and honest menâlike Jargeâwiâ thieves, anâ lazy waggabonesâlike Jobâbut weâll show âem, Peter, weâll show âem âdang âem! Drive on, Simon, my bye!â
So, with this Parthian shot, feathered with the one strong word the Ancient kept for such occasions, we drove away from the silenced group, who stared mutely after us until we were lost to view. But the last thing I saw was the light in Prueâs sweet eyes as she watched us from the open lattice.
CHAPTER XXXII
HOW WE SET OUT FOR BURNHAM HALL
âPeter,â said the Ancient, after we had gone a little way, âPeter, I do âopes as you arenât been anâ gone anâ rose my Prueâs âopes only to dash âem down again.â
âI can but do my best, Ancient.â
âOld Un,â said Simon, ââtwerenât Peter as rose âer âopes, âtwere you; Peter never said nowt about bringinâ Jarge âomeââ
âSimon,â commanded the Ancient, âhold thy tongue, lad; I says again, if Peterâs been anâ rose Prueâs âopes only to dash âem ât will be a bad day for Prue, you mark my words; Prueâs a lass as donât love easy, anâ donât forget easy.â
âWhy, true, Gaffer, true, God bless âer!â
âShe be one as âud pineâslow anâ quiet, like a flower in the woods, or a leaf in autumnâah! fade, she would, fade anâ fade!â
âWell, she beanât a-goinâ to do no fadinâ, please the Lord!â
âNot if me anâ Peter anâ you can âelp it, Simon, my byeâbut we âm but poor worms, arter all, as the Bible says; anâ if Peter âas been anâ rose âer âopes oâ freeinâ Jarge, anâ donât free Jarge âif Jarge should âave to go a convicâ to Austrayley, orâor tâ other place, why thenâsheâll fade, fade as ever was, anâ be laid in the churchyard afore âer poor old grandfeyther!â
âLord, Old Un!â exclaimed Simon, âwhoâs a-talkinâ oâ fadinâs anâ churchyards? I donât like itâletâs talk oâ summâat else.â
âSimon,â said the Ancient, shaking his head reprovingly, âye be a good byeâah! a steady, dootiful lad ye be, I donât deny it; but the Lord arenât give you no imagination, which, arter all, you should be main thankful for; a imaginationâs a troublesome thing âarenât it, Peter?â
âIt is,â said I, âa damnable thing!â
âAyâmanyâs the man as âas been ruinated by âis imagination âtheer was one, Nicodemus Blyte were âis nameââ
âAnd a very miserable cove âe sounds, too!â added Simon.
âBut a very decent, civil-spoke, quiet young chap âe were!â continued the Ancient, âonly for âis imagination; Lord! âe were that full oâ imagination âe couldnât drink âis ale like an ordinary chapâsip, âeâd go, anâ sip, sip, till âtwere all gone, anâ then âeâd forget as ever âeâd âad any, anâ go away wiâout paying for itâif some âun didnât remind âimââ
ââE were no fule, Old Un!â nodded Simon.
âAnâ that werenât all, neither, not by no manner oâ means,â the Ancient continued. âIâve knowed that theer chap sit anâ listen to a pretty lass by the hour together anâ never say a wordânot one!â
âDidnât git a chance to, pârâaps?â said Simon.
âIt werenât that, no, it were jest âis imagination a-workinâ anâ workinâ inside of âim, anâ fillinâ âim up. âOwsâever, at last, one day, âe up anâ axed âer to marry âim, anâ she, beinâ all took by surprise, said âyes,â anâ went anâ married someâun else.â
âLord!â said Simon, âwhat did she go and marry another chap for?â
âSimon,â returned the Ancient, âdonât go askinâ fulish questions. âOwsâever, she did, anâ poor Nicodemus growed more imaginative than ever; arter that, âe took to turnips.â
âTurnips?â exclaimed Simon, staring.
âTurnips as ever was!â nodded the Ancient, âused to stand, for hours at a time, a-lookinâ at âis turnips anâ shakinâ âis âead over âem.â
âButâwhat for?âa man must be a danged fule to go shakinâ of âis âead over a lot oâ turnips!â
âWell, I donât know,â rejoined the Ancient; ââis turnips was very good
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