“A little Cornish girl she is, and shaped in western manner, not so very
much less in width than if you take her lengthwise. Her father seems to
have been a miner, a Cornishman (as she declares) of more than average
excellence, and better than any two men to be found in Devonshire, or
any four in Somerset. Very few things can have been beyond his power of
performance, and yet he left his daughter to starve upon a peat-rick.
She does not know how this was done, and looks upon it as a mystery,
the meaning of which will some day be clear, and redound to her father's
honour. His name was Simon Carfax, and he came as the captain of a gang
from one of the Cornish stannaries. Gwenny Carfax, my young maid, well
remembers how her father was brought up from Cornwall. Her mother had
been buried, just a week or so before; and he was sad about it, and had
been off his work, and was ready for another job. Then people came to
him by night, and said that he must want a change, and everybody lost
their wives, and work was the way to mend it. So what with grief,
and over-thought, and the inside of a square bottle, Gwenny says they
brought him off, to become a mighty captain, and choose the country
round. The last she saw of him was this, that he went down a ladder
somewhere on the wilds of Exmoor, leaving her with bread and cheese, and
his travelling-hat to see to. And from that day to this he never came
above the ground again; so far as we can hear of.
“But Gwenny, holding to his hat, and having eaten the bread and cheese
(when he came no more to help her), dwelt three days near the mouth of
the hole; and then it was closed over, the while that she was sleeping.
With weakness and with want of food, she lost herself distressfully, and
went away for miles or more, and lay upon a peat-rick, to die before the
ravens.
“That very day I chanced to return from Aunt Sabina's dying-place; for
she would not die in Glen Doone, she said, lest the angels feared to
come for her; and so she was taken to a cottage in a lonely valley. I
was allowed to visit her, for even we durst not refuse the wishes of the
dying; and if a priest had been desired, we should have made bold with
him. Returning very sorrowful, and caring now for nothing, I found this
little stray thing lying, her arms upon her, and not a sign of life,
except the way that she was biting. Black root-stuff was in her mouth,
and a piece of dirty sheep's wool, and at her feet an old egg-shell of
some bird of the moorland.
“I tried to raise her, but she was too square and heavy for me; and so
I put food in her mouth, and left her to do right with it. And this she
did in a little time; for the victuals were very choice and rare, being
what I had taken over to tempt poor Aunt Sabina. Gwenny ate them without
delay, and then was ready to eat the basket and the ware that contained
them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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