In the Roar of the Sea. Baring-Gould Sabine
and drink the port he sends me – first-rate stuff. He writes admirable letters, and never a month passes but I receive one. It would come expensive if he wrote direct, so his letter is enclosed in the business papers sent to the house at Bristol, and they forward it to me. You shall read his last – out loud. It will give me a pleasure to hear it read by you.”
“If I read properly, Mr. Menaida – with the spirit and with the understanding.”
“Exactly! But you could not fail to do that looking at the cheerful face in the miniature, and reading his words – pleasant and bright as himself. Pity you have not seen him; well, that makes something to live for. He has dark hair and blue eyes – not often met together, and when associated, very refreshing. Wait! I’ll go after the letter: only, bless my soul! where is it? What coat did I have on when I read it? I’ll call Jump. She may remember. Wait! do you recall this?”
He stumbled over something on the keys which might have been anything.
“It is Haydn. I will tell you what I think: Mozart I delight in as a companion; Beethoven I revere as a master; but Haydn I love as a friend. You were about to say something?”
Judith had set an elbow on the piano and put her hand to her head, her fingers through the hair, and was looking into Uncle Zachie’s face with an earnestness he could not mistake. She did desire to say something to him; but if she waited till he gave her an opportunity she might wait a long time. He jumped from one subject to another with alacrity, and with rapid forgetfulness of what he was last speaking about.
“Oh, sir, I am so very, very grateful to you for having received us into your snug little house – ”
“You like it? Well, I only pay seven pounds for it. Cheap, is it not? Two cottages – laborers’ cottages – thrown together. Well, I might go farther and fare worse.”
“And, Mr. Menaida, I venture to ask you another favor, which, if you will grant me, you will lay me under an eternal obligation.”
“You may command me, my dear.”
“It is only this: not to let Jamie have anything stronger than a glass of cider. I do not mind his having that; but a boy like him does not need what is, no doubt, wanted by you who are getting old. I am so afraid of the habit growing on him of looking for and liking what is too strong for him. He is such a child, so easily led, and so unable to control himself. It may be a fancy, a prejudice of mine” – she passed her nervous hand over her face – “I do hope I am not offending you, dear Mr. Menaida; but I know Jamie so well, and I know how carefully he must be watched and checked. If it be a silly fancy of mine – and perhaps it is only a silly fancy – yet,” she put on a pleading tone, “you will humor me in this, will you not, Mr. Menaida?”
“Bless my soul! you have only to express a wish and I will fulfil it. For myself, you must know, I am a little weak; I feel a chill when the wind turns north or east, and am always relaxed when it is in the south or west; that forces me to take something just to save me from serious inconvenience, you understand.”
“Oh quite, sir.”
“And then – confound it! – I am goaded on to work when disinclined. Why, there’s a letter come to me now from Plymouth – a naturalist there, asking for more birds; and what can I do? I slave, I am at it all day, half the night; I have no time to eat or sleep. I was not born to stuff birds. I take it as an amusement, a pastime, and it is converted into a toil. I must brace up my exhausted frame; it is necessary to my health, you understand!”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Menaida. And you really will humor my childish whim?”
“Certainly, you may rely on me.”
“That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we have but just come into your house, and already, last night, Jamie was tempted to disobey me, and take what I thought unadvisable, so – I have been turning it over and over in my head – I thought I would like to come to a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems ungracious in me, but you must pity me. I have now all responsibility for Jamie on my head, and I have to do what my conscience tells me I should do; only, I pray you, do not take offence at what I have said.”
“Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say.”
“And now that I have your promise – I have that, have I not?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it me. I have no father, no mother, to go to for advice; and so I venture to appeal to you – it is about Captain Coppinger.”
“Captain Coppinger!” repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing up his brows and mouth. “Umph! He is a bold man who can give help against Captain Coppinger, and a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged you?”
“Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt him.”
“You – you!” Uncle Zachie laughed. “A little creature such as you could not hurt Captain Cruel!”
“But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and broken his arms and some of his bones.”
“You – you?” Uncle Zachie’s face of astonishment and dismay was so comical that Judith, in spite of her anxiety and exhaustion, smiled; but the smile was without brightness.
“And pray, how in the name of wonder did you do that? Upon my word, you will deserve the thanks of the Preventive men. They have no love for him; they have old scores they would gladly wipe off with a broken arm, or, better still, a cracked skull. And pray how did you do this? With the flour-roller?”
“No, sir, I will tell you the whole story.”
Then, in its true sequence, with great clearness, she related the entire narrative of events. She told how her father, even with his last breath, had spoken of Coppinger as the man who had troubled his life by marring his work; how that the Captain had entered the parsonage without ceremony when her dear father was lying dead up-stairs, and how he had called there boisterously for Aunt Dionysia because he wanted something of her. She told the old man how that her own feelings had been wrought, by this affront, into anger against Coppinger. Then she related the incident in the lane, and how that, when he raised his arm against her, she had dashed the buttons into his face, frightened his horse, and so produced an accident that might have cost the Captain his life.
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Mr. Menaida, “and what do you want? Is it an assault? I will run to my law-books and find out; I don’t know that it can quite be made out a case of misadventure.”
“It is not that, sir.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I have been racking my head to think what I ought to do under the circumstances. There can be no doubt that I aggravated him. I was very angry, both because he had been a trouble to my darling papa, and then because he had been so insolent as to enter our house and shout for Aunt Dunes; but there was something more – he had tried to beat Jamie, and it was my father’s day of burial. All that roused a bad spirit in me, and I did say very bad words to him – words a man of metal would not bear from even a child, and I suppose I really did lash him to madness, and he would have struck me – but perhaps not, he might have thought better of it. I provoked him, and then I brought about what happened. I have been considering what I ought to do. If I remain here and take no notice, then he will think me very unfeeling, and that I do not care that I have hurt him in mind and body. It came into my head last night that I would ask aunt to apologize to him for what I had done, or, better still, should aunt not come here to-day, which is very likely, that I might walk with Jamie to Pentyre and inquire how Captain Coppinger is, and send in word by my aunt that I am sorry – very sorry.”
“Upon my soul, I don’t know what to say. I could not have done this to Coppinger myself for a good deal of money. I think if I had, I would get out of the place as quickly as possible, while he was crippled by his broken bones. But then, you are a girl, and he may take it better from you than from me. Well – yes; I think it would be advisable to allay his anger if you can. Upon my word, you have put yourself into a difficult position. I’ll go and look at my law-books, just for my own satisfaction.”
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