Americans -- England -- Fiction; West Country (England) -- Fiction
"I'll not marry with Peter--never," she said quietly. "He's
no man--a mere walking, talking chatterbox--a packman, with
nonsensical rags and tags of rhymes and jests for his
stock-in-trade. He would drive me mad with his borrowed wit."
"We shall see," said Malherb. "His wit may be borrowed;
his wealth is his own. Now go you and get a bottle of the
Burgundy. We'll not argue--we love one another too dearly."
But though he spoke calmly, his mood changed, and the
infernal temper that cursed his life, and lurked in his warm, big
heart like a wasp in a rose, broke forth. He heard the dismal
tale of the drowned pigs, dashed out of doors with his horsewhip,
and roared for the lad Robert. When Grace returned with his
wine, her father had disappeared; her mother, grown white and
careworn suddenly, stood by the window.
Shrieks echoed through the autumn gloaming and rang against
the walls of the farm; while, round a corner, the unfortunate
youth whose errors were responsible for his master's loss lifted
up a bitter voice and yelled for mercy under the lash.
"That'll teach you, you idle scoundrel! If you'd been drowned,
none would have cared a curse. But my pigs--there, and there,
and there; and never show your ugly face to me again, or
I'll----"
Bob fled howling, and through a night of smart and sleeplessness
wriggled in much misery. But only the present suffering of
his back troubled him, for he knew what day would bring as
surely as it brought the sun.
He met his master going the rounds before breakfast, and
touched his hat and fell into a great simulated lameness; whereon
Malherb gave him "Good morning" and threw him a shilling.
"Mind the pigs closer henceforth, you vagabond," he said;
then added to himself as he saw the boy's rueful countenance,
"and I will mind my temper closer, please God."
Kekewich appeared from a barn as the shilling was picked up.
"Ah," he said, when Bob had departed, "usual way. Even
the misfortune of they pigs have cost 'e a coin more'n there was
any call to pay."
CHAPTER IV
"THE MARROW OF THE FARM"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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