Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard Eleanor Farjeon (books for 7th graders .TXT) 📖

"We went in search of the ferry," he said, "but the ferry was drowned too."

"We couldn't find the ferry," said a second.

"No," mumbled a third, "the river had drunk it up. Where there were paths there are brooks, and where there were meadows, lakes."

The miserable crew broke out into plaints and questions--"Have you no fire? have you no food? no coverings?"

"None," said Young Gerard. "Where is the bride?"

"Have you do drink?"

"Where is the bride?"

"The groom stumbled," said one. "Let us to Combe Ivy, in comfort's name. There'll be drink there."

He staggered down the hill, and his fellows made after him. But Young Gerard sprang upon one, and gripped him by the shoulder and shook him, and for the third time cried:

"Where is the bride?"

"In the water," he answered heavily, "because--there was--no wine."

Then he dragged himself out of the boy's grasp, and fell down the hill after his companions.

Young Gerard stood for one instant listening and holding his breath. Suddenly he said, "My lost lamb, crying on the hills." He ran into the shed and looked about, and snatched from the settle the green and cherry cloak, and from the wall the crystal and silver lantern. He struck a spark from a flint and lit the wick. It burned brightly and steadily. Then he ran out of the shed. The old woman rose up in his path.

"That's a good light," said she, "and a warm cloak."

"Don't stop me!" said Young Gerard, and ran on. She nodded, and as he vanished in one direction, she vanished in the other.

He had not run far when he saw one more shadow on the hills; and it came with faltering steps, and a trembling sobbing breath, and he held up his lantern and the light fell on Thea, shivering in her wet veil. As the flame struck her eyes she sighed, "Oh, I can't see the way--I can't see!"

Young Gerard hurried to her and said, "Come this way," and he took her hand; but she snatched it quickly from him.

"Go, man!" she said. "Don't touch me. Go!"

"Don't be frightened of me," said Young Gerard gently.

Then she looked at him and whispered, "Oh--it is you--shepherd. I was trying to find you. I'm cold."

Young Gerard wrapped the cloak about her, and said, "Come with me. I'll make you a fire."

He took her back to the shed. But she did not go in. She crouched on the ground under the cherry-tree. Young Gerard moved about collecting brushwood. They scarcely looked at each other; but once when he passed her he said, "You're shivering."

"It's because I'm so wet," said Thea.

"Did you fall in the water?"

She nodded. "The floods were so strong."

"It's a bad night for swimming," said Young Gerard.

"Yes, shepherd." She then said again, "Yes." He could tell by her voice that she was smiling faintly. He glanced at her and saw her looking at him; both smiled a little and glanced away again. He began to pile his brushwood for the fire.

After a short pause she said timidly, "Are you sore, shepherd?"

"No, I feel nothing," said he.

"They beat you very hard."

"I did not feel their blows."

"How could you not feel them?" she said in a low voice. He looked at her again, and again their eyes met, and again parted quickly.

"Now I'll strike a spark," said Young Gerard, "and you'll be warm soon."

He kindled his fire; the branches crackled and burned, and she knelt beside the blaze and held her hands to it.

"I was never here by night before," she said.

"Yes, once," said Young Gerard. "You often came, didn't you, to gather flowers in the morning and to swim in the river at noon. But once before you were here in the night."

"Was I?" said she.

He dropped a handful of cones into her lap, throwing the last on the fire. She threw another after it, and smiled as it crackled.

"I remember," she said. "Thank you, shepherd. You were always kind and found me the things I wanted, and gave me your cup to drink of. Who'll drink of it now?"

"No one," he said, "ever again."

He went and fetched the cup and gave it to her. "Burn that too," said Young Gerard. Thea put it into the fire and trembled. When it was burned she asked very low, "Will you be lonely?"

"I'll have my sheep and my thoughts."

"Yes," said Thea, "and stars when the sheep are folded. The stars are good to be with too."

"Good to see and not be seen by," he said.

"How do you know they don't see you?" she asked shyly.

"One shepherd on a hill isn't much for the eye of a star. He may watch them unwatched, while they come and go in their months. Sometimes there aren't any, and sometimes not more than one pricking the sky near the moon. But to-night, look! the sky's like a tree with full branches."

Thea looked up and said with a child's laugh, "Break me a branch!"

"I'd want Jacob's Ladder for that," smiled Young Gerard.

"Then shake the tree and bring them down!" she insisted.

"Here come your stars," said Young Gerard. Suddenly she was enveloped in a falling shower, white and heavenly.

"The stars--!" she cried. "Oh, what is it?"

"My cherry-tree--it's in flower--" said Young Gerard, and his voice trembled. She looked up quickly and saw that he was standing beside her, shaking the tree above her head. And now their eyes met and did not separate. He put out his hand and broke a branch from the tree and offered it to her. She took it from him slowly, as though she were in a dream, and laid it in her lap, and put her face in her hands and began to cry.

Young Gerard whispered, "Why are you crying?"

Thea said, "Oh, my wedding, my wedding! Only last year I thought of the night of my wedding and how it would be. It was not with torchlight and shouting and wine, but moonlight and silence and the scent of wild blossoms. And now I know that it was