A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 2 of 3)Marryat, Florence
General
A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 2 of 3)
Marryat, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
‘When the gentleman as built Rushmere for his own gratification, sir,
died, the house let well enough. But the place proved lonely, and there
was more than one attempt at robbery, and people grew tired of taking
it. And above all, the girls of the village began to refuse to go to
service there. Well, it had been standing empty for some months, when a
gentleman and his wife came to look after it. Browser and I—we didn’t own
this inn at that time, you will understand, sir, but kept a general shop
in the village, and were but poorly off altogether, although we had the
post-office at our place, and did the best business thereabouts. The key
of Rushmere used always to be left in our keeping, too, and our boy would
go up to show folks over the house. Well, one damp autumn day—I mind the
day as if ’twere yesterday, for Browser had been ailing sadly with the
rheumatics for weeks past, and not able to lift his hand to his head—this
gentleman and lady, who went by the name of Greenslade, came for the keys
of Rushmere. I remember thinking Mr Greenslade had a nasty, curious look
about his eyes, and that his wife seemed a poor, brow-beaten creature;
but that was no business of mine, and I sent Bill up with them to show
the house. They took it, and entered on possession at once; and then came
the difficulty about the servants. Not a soul would enter the place at
first. Then a girl or two tried it, and came away when their month was
up, saying the house was so lonesome, they couldn’t sleep at nights, and
the master was so queer-spoken and mannered, they were afraid of him.’
‘Don’t forget to say what he was used to do at nights,’ here put in the
landlord.
‘La, Browser, I’m a-coming to it. Everything in its time. Well, sir, at
last it came to this, that Mrs Greenslade hadn’t a creature to help her
in anythink, and down she came to ask if I would go to them for a few
days. I stared; for there was the shop to be tended, and the post-office
looked after, and I hadn’t been used to odd jobs like that. But my
husband said that he could do all that was wanted in the business; and we
were very hard drove just then, and the lady offered such liberal pay,
he over-persuaded me to go, if only on trial. So I put my pride in my
pocket, and went out charing. I hadn’t been at Rushmere many days, sir,
before I found something was very wrong there. Mr Greenslade hardly ever
spoke a word, but shut himself up in a room all day, or went mooning
about the fields and common, where he couldn’t meet a soul; and as for
the poor lady, la! my heart bled for her, she seemed so wretched and
broken-down and hopeless. I used often to say to her,—
‘“Now, ma’am, do let me cook you a bit of something nice, for you’ve
eaten nothing since yesterday, and you’ll bring yourself down to death’s
door at this rate.”
‘And she’d answer,—
‘“No, thank you, Mrs Browser: I couldn’t touch it. I feel sometimes as if
I’d never care to eat or drink again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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