Red Spider, Volume 2 (of 2)

A DEAD DOG.

The second night of watch proved unavailing, for the best of good reasons, that the watch was not kept. Oliver Luxmore sat up, but, finding the night chilly outside the house, attempted to keep watch with a pipe of tobacco and a jug and glass of cider posset within. The consequence was that he went to sleep over the fire. During that same night another of the lambs was worried. Mischief had also been done at Swaddledown, as the family heard during the day. There a ewe had been killed, overrun, thrown into a grip (dyke by hedge) whence it could not rise, and where it had been torn, and had died.

'We must not ask your father to watch again,' said Hillary, with the corners of his mouth twitching. 'We believe what he says now when he tells us he is very shortsighted. I will come to-night and the night after, if need be, till I earn my guinea. The rascal has been here twice and has escaped. He shall not succeed the third time. I will take a nap by day and be lively as an owl at night.'

The maids at Chimsworthy joked the lad about his visits to the cottage; he did not go there after the dog, but after Kate. A guinea! What was a guinea to the heir of Chimsworthy? A young man cares more for girls' hearts than for money. He did not contradict them, he turned aside their banter with banter. But the lively conversation of Kate had lost its charm for him. He exchanged jests with her, but took less pleasure than heretofore in doing so. That night and the next he spent at his post watching for the lamb-killer. Honor gave him her company. He was surprised at himself for becoming serious, still more that the conversation and society of the grave Honor should afford him so much pleasure. In her company everything assumed a new aspect, was seen through coloured glass.

Honor herself was changed during these still night watches. A softness, inbred in her, but to which she was unable to yield during the day, manifested itself in her manner, her speech, her appearance, a bloom as that on the plum. Her inner heart unfolded like a night-flower, and poured forth fragrance. Thoughts that had long dwelt and worked in her mind, but to which she had never given words, found expression at last. Her real mind, her great, pure, deep soul, had been as a fountain sealed to her father and sister Kate; they could not have understood her thoughts; she knew this without acknowledging it other than by instinctive silence. But now she had beside her a companion, sympathetic, intelligent; and the night that veiled their faces and the working of their emotions allowed them to speak with frankness. Banter died away on Hillary's lips, he respected her and her thoughts too highly to treat either lightly. Though he could not fully understand her he could not withhold his reverence. He saw the nobility of her character, her self-devotion made beautiful by its unconsciousness, her directness of purpose, her thoroughness, and her clear simplicity running through her life like a sparkling river. Her nature was the reverse of his own. He treated life as a holiday, and its duties as annoyances; she looked to the duties as constituting life, and to pleasures as accidents. He became dissatisfied with himself without feeling resentment towards Honor for inspiring the feeling. With all his frivolity and self-conceit there was good stuff in Hillary. It was evidence of this that he now appreciated Honor. At night, under the dark heavens strewn with stars, or with the moon rising as a globe of gold over Dartmoor, these two young people sat on the bench, with potato-sacks over their shoulders sheltering them from the dew, or at the hearth suffused by the glow of the peat embers, and talked with muffled voices as if in church.

The second, the third night, during which Hillary watched, passed uneventfully. Each night, or morning rather, as Hillary left, the pressure of his hand clasping that of Honor became warmer. After he was gone, the girl sat musing for some minutes, listening to his dying steps as he passed along the lane homewards. Then she sighed, shook her head, as though to shake off some dream that tole over her, and went to bed.

Hillary's determined watching was not, however, destined to remain fruitless. Early on the fourth night, after he had been at his post an hour, the bleating and scampering of the sheep showed that their enemy was at hand.

In another moment both saw a dark animal dash across the field in pursuit. Hillary fired, and the creature fell over.

'Bring a lantern, Honor,' he shouted. 'Let us see whose dog it is.'

She ran indoors. Her father and Kate had been roused by the report.

When she returned with the lantern to the field, 'You were right, Honor,' said Hillary, 'this is Uncle Taverner's Rover. Poor fellow, we were friends once, when I was allowed at Langford. Now he and his master have fallen to bad ways. I have put the seal on my misdoings, and Uncle Taverner will never forgive me for having shot his dog.'

'Well, perhaps you will recover your wits now,' said Kate.

'Wits! why?'

'Wits--you have been dull enough lately. Perhaps as the dog went sheep-killing, your wits went wool-gathering. They have been dead, or not at home.'

'Go home, Larry,' said Honor; 'and take our best thanks to warm you.'

Hillary, however, seemed ill-disposed to go. He hung about the kitchen pretending that his fingers wanted warming, or considering what was to be done with the carcass of the dog. What he really desired was a further chat with Honor. But Kate would not allow him to be alone with her sister, though unsuspicious of the state of his feelings, and indifferent to them herself. She was like a mosquito that buzzes about a sleep-drunk man, threatening him, rousing him, settling, and stabbing, and escaping before his hand can chastise. The more she plied him with her jokes, the more dispirited he became, and incapable of repartee.

'Well,' said he at length, 'I suppose it is time for all to go to bed. You have all seen enough of the dead dog.'

'And we of the live lion,' said Kate.

He went hesitatingly to the door, then came back, tied the dog's hind feet together, and slung the body over his back on his gun. Then he went back to the door.

Kate said something to Honor, gave Larry a nod, and went away to bed.

Honor accompanied him to the door, to fasten it after him.

'I wish Rover had not come for a couple of hours,' he said, as he held out his hand.

'You have won your guinea, and must be content,' she answered with a smile.

'Do you suppose I care for the guinea, except that I may share it with you?' he asked. 'I'll tell you what we will do with it, break it in half, and each keep a half.'

'Then it will be of no good to either,' answered Honor. 'You told me yourself that the money was a consideration to you, as you were empty-pocketed.'

'I forgot all about the guinea after the first night in the pleasure of being with you. I would give the guinea to be allowed to come here again to-morrow night. Confound old Rover for being in such a hurry for his dose of lead.'

'What is that about lead?' called Kate from the steps of the stairs. 'I think, Larry, the lead has got into your brains, and into your feet.'

Honor shook her head, and tried to withdraw her hand from that of the young man; but he would not release it. 'No, Larry, no, that cannot be.'

'May I not come again?'

'No, Larry, on no account,' she said gravely.

'But, Honor, if I come down the lane, and you hear the owls call very loud under the bank, you will open the door and slip out. You will bring the potato-sacks, and let us have a talk again on the bench with them over our shoulders?'

'No, I will not--indeed I will not. I pray you, if you have any thought for me, do not try this. Good-night, Larry--you are a brother to me.'

She wrenched her hand from his, and shut the door. He heard her bolt it. Then he went down the steps and walked away, ill pleased. But after he had gone some distance, he turned, and saw the cottage door open, and Honor standing in it, her dark figure against the fire glow. Had she relented and changed her mind? He came back. Then the door was shut and barred again. He was offended, and, to disguise his confusion, whistled a merry air, and whistled it so loud as that Honor might hear it and understand that her refusal gave him no concern.

Hillary had not reached the end of the lane before he stumbled against Charles.

'Hallo!' exclaimed the latter. 'What are you doing here at this time o' night? Got your gun, eh? And game too, eh? Poaching on Langford. A common poacher. I'll report you. Not hare-hunting yet? Take care how you do that. I'll break your neck if you come near Langford after that game.'

'What you have been doing is clear enough,' said Hillary, stepping aside. 'You have been at the "Ring of Bells," drinking.'

'What if I have? No harm in that, if I have money to pay my score. Nothing against that, have you?'

'Nothing at all; but I doubt your having the money. A week ago you were reduced to a brass token.'

'You think yourself cock of the walk, do you?' said Charles, insolently, 'because you are heir to Chimsworthy? What is Chimsworthy to Coombe Park? Come! I bet now you've naught but coppers in your pocket. Hands in and see which can make the most show.'

As he spoke, he thrust forth his palm, and Hillary heard the chink of money, and the sound of coins falling on the stones.