CHAPTER XVIII.
_Of our getting a painter into the Court, with whom our Moll fallsstraightway in love._
Being somewhat of a coward, I essayed to put Moll off with a story ofher father having gone a-frolicking with Don Sanchez, leaving it to theDon to break the truth to her on his return. And a sorry, bunglingbusiness I made of it, to be sure. For, looking me straight in the eyes,whenever I dared lift them, she did seem to perceive that I was lying,from the very first, which so disconcerted me, though she interrupted meby never a word, that I could scarce stammer to the end of my tale.Then, without asking a single question, or once breaking her painfulsilence, she laid her face in her hands, her shoulders shook, and thetears ran out between her fingers, and fell upon her lap.
"I know, I know," says she, putting me away, when I attempted to speak."He has gone away for my sake, and will come back no more; and 'tis allmy fault, that I could not play my part better."
Then, what words of comfort I could find, I offered her; but she wouldnot be consoled, and shut herself up in her room all that morning.Nevertheless, she ate more heartily than I at dinner, and fresh visitorscoming in the afternoon, she entertained them as though no grief lay ather heart. Indeed, she recovered of this cruel blow much easier than Ilooked for; and but that she would at times sit pensive, withmelancholy, wistful eyes, and rise from her seat with a troubled sigh,one would have said, at the end of the week, that she had ceased to feelfor her father. But this was not so (albeit wounds heal quickly in theyoung and healthful), for I believe that they who weep the least do achethe most.
Then, for her further excuse (if it be needed), Don Sanchez brought backgood tidings of her father,--how he was neatly lodged near the Cherrygarden, where he could hear the birds all day and the fiddles all night,with abundance of good entertainment, etc. To confirm which, she got aletter from him, three days later, very loving and cheerful, tellinghow, his landlord being a carpenter, he did amuse himself mightily athis old trade in the workshop, and was all agog for learning to turnwood in a lathe, promising that he would make her a set of egg-cupsagainst her birthday, please God. Added to this, the number of herfriends multiplying apace, every day brought some new occupation to herthoughts; also, having now those three thousand pounds old Simon hadpromised us, Moll set herself to spending of them as quickly aspossible, by furnishing herself with all sorts of rich gowns andappointments, which is as pretty a diversion of melancholy from a youngwoman's thoughts as any. And so I think I need dwell no longer on thishead.
About the beginning of October, Simon comes, cap in hand, and veryhumble, to the Court to crave Moll's consent to his setting some menwith guns in her park at night, to lie in ambush for poachers, tellinghow they had shot one man in the act last spring, and had hanged anotherthe year before for stealing of a sheep; adding that a stranger had beenseen loitering in the neighbourhood, who, he doubted not, was of theirthieving crew.
"What makes you think that?" asks Moll. "He has been seen lingeringabout here these three days," answers Simon. "Yet to my knowledge hehath not slept at either of the village inns. Moreover, he hath the lookof a desperate, starving rascal, ripe for such work."
"I will have no man killed for his misfortunes."
"Gentle mistress, suffer me to point out that if thee lets one man stealwith impunity, others, now innocent, are thereby encouraged to sin, andthus thy mercy tends to greater cruelty."
"No man shall be killed on my land,--there is my answer," says Moll,with passion. "If you take this poor, starved creature, it shall bewithout doing him bodily hurt. You shall answer for it else."
"Not a bone shall be broken, mistress. 'Tis enough if we carry himbefore Justice Martin, a godly, upright man, and a scourge toevil-doers."
"Nay, you shall not do that, neither, till I have heard his case," saysMoll. "'Tis for me to decide whether he has injured me or not, and I'llsuffer none to take my place."
Promising obedience, Simon withdrew before any further restrictionsmight be put upon him; but Moll's mind was much disturbed all day byfear of mischief being done despite her commands, and at night she wouldhave me take her round the park to see all well. Maybe, she thought thather own father, stealing hither to see her privily, might fall a victimto Simon's ambushed hirelings. But we found no one, though Simon hadcertainly hidden these fellows somewhere in the thickets.
Whilst we were at table next morning, we heard a great commotion in thehall; and Mrs. Butterby coming in a mighty pucker, told how the robberhad been taken in the park, and how Simon had brought him to the housein obedience to her lady's command. "But do, pray, have a care ofyourself, my dear lady," says she; "for this hardy villain hath struckMr. Simon in the face and made most desperate resistance; and Heavenprotect us from such wicked outlaws as have the villany to showthemselves in broad daylight!"
Moll, smiling, said she would rather face a lion in the day than a mouseby night, and so bade the captive to be brought before her.
Then in comes Simon, with a stout band over one eye, followed by twosturdy fellows holding their prisoner betwixt them. And this was a verypassionate man, as was evidenced by the looks of fury he cast from sideto side upon his captors as they dragged him this way and that to make ashow of their power, but not ill-looking. In his struggles he had losthis hat, and his threadbare coat and shirt were torn open, laying barehis neck and showing a very fair white skin and a good beard of lightcurling hair. There was nought mean or vile in his face, but rather itseemed to me a noble countenance, though woefully wasted, so that at aglance one might perceive he was no born rascal, but likely enough someruined man of better sort driven to unlawful ways by his distress. Hewas of a fair height, but gaunt beyond everything, and so feeble thatafter one effort to free his arms his chin sank upon his breast as ifhis forces were all spent.
Seeing this, Moll bade the fellows unbind him, telling them sharply theymight see there was no need of such rigour.
Being freed, our prisoner lifts his head and makes a slight reverence toMoll, but with little gratitude in his look, and places himself at theend of the table facing us, who are at the other end, Moll sittingbetwixt Don Sanchez and me. And there, setting his hands for supportupon the board, he holds his head up pretty proudly, waiting for whatmight come.
"Who are you?" asks Moll, in a tone of authority.
He waits a moment, as if deliberating with himself whether to speakfairly or not, then, being still sore with his ill-treatment, andangered to be questioned thus by a mere girl (he, as I take it, being aman of thirty or thereabouts), he answers:
"I do not choose to tell. Who I am, what I am, concerns you no more thanwho and what you are concerns me, and less since I may justly demand bywhat right these fellows, whom I take to be your servants, have thuslaid hands on me."
"How do you answer this?" asks Moll, turning to Simon.
Then Simon told very precisely, as if he were before a magistrate, howthis man, having been seen lingering about the Court several days, andbeing without home or occupation, had been suspected of feloniouspurposes; how, therefore, he had set a watch to lay wait for him; howthat morning they had entrapped him standing within a covert of the parkregarding the house; how he had refused to give his name or any excusefor his being there, and how he had made most desperate attempt toescape when they had lain hands on him.
"Is this true?" asks Moll of the prisoner.
"Yes," says he.
Moll regards him with incredulous eyes a moment, then, turning to Simon,"What arms had he for this purpose that you speak of?" says she.
"None, mistress; but 'twould be a dread villain verily who would carrythe engines of his trade abroad in daylight to betray him." And then hetold how 'tis the habit of these poachers to reconnoitre their ground byday, and keep their nets, guns, etc., concealed in some thicket orhollow tree convenient for their purpose. "But," adds he, "we mayclearly prove a trespass against him, which is a punishable offence, andthis assault upon me, whereof I have evidence, shall also count forsomethin
g with Justice Martin, and so the wicked shall yet come by theirdeserts." And with that he gives his fellows a wink with his one eye tocarry off their quarry.
"Stay," says Moll, "I would be further convinced--"
"If he be an honest man, let him show thee his hand," says Simon.
The man innocently enough stretches out his palm towards us, notperceiving Simon's end.
"There!" cries Simon. "What said I? Is that a hand that ever did a day'shonest work?"
"'Tis no worse than mine," says Moll, regarding the hand which in truthwas exceeding smooth and well formed. "Come," adds she, still morekindly, "you see I am no harsh judge. I would not deny a fellow-creaturethe pleasure that is not grudged the coney that runs across my lawn.Tell me you were there but to gratify a passing caprice, and I'llforgive you as freely as I'll believe you."
This gentle appeal seemed to move the young man greatly, and he made asif he would do more than was demanded of him, and make that freeconfession which he had refused to force. But ere a word could leave hisparted lips a deadly shade passed over his face, his knees gave underhim, and staggering to save himself, he fell to the ground in a swoon.
Then, whilst all we men stood fixed in wonderment, Moll, with the quick,helpful impulse of her womanhood, ran swiftly from her place to hisside, and dropping on her knees cried for water to be brought her.
"Dead of hunger," says Don Sanchez, in my ear. "Fetch a flask ofbrandy."
And then, laying hold of Simon by the shoulder, he pointed significantlyto the open door. This hint Simon was not slow to take, and when Ireturned from the buttery with a case of strong waters, I found no onein the room but Don Sanchez, and Moll with the fainting man's head uponher lap, bathing his temples gently. Life had not come back, and theyoung man's face looked very handsome in death, the curls pushed backfrom his brow, and his long features still and colourless like a carvedmarble.
Then with a "lack-a-day" and "alas," in bustles Mrs. Butterby with abottle of cordial in one hand and a bunch of burning feathers in theother.
"Fling that rubbish in the chimney," says the Don. "I know thismalady--well enough," and pouring some hollands in a cup he put it tothe dead man's parted lips.
In a few moments he breathed again, and hearing Moll's cry of joy, heopened his eyes as one waking from a dream and turned his head to learnwhat had happened. Then finding his head in Moll's lap and her small,soft, cool hand upon his brow, a smile played over his wasted face. Andwell, indeed, might he smile to see that young figure of justice turnedto the living image of tender mercy.
Perceiving him out of danger, and recovering her own wits at the sametime, Mrs. Butterby cries: "Lord! Madam, do let me call a maid to takeyour place; for, dear heart! you have quite spoiled your new gown withthis mess of water, and all for such a paltry fellow as this!"
Truly, it must have seemed to her understanding an outrageous thing thata lady of her mistress' degree should be nursing such a ragged rascal;but to me, knowing Moll's helpful, impulsive disposition, 'twas no suchextraordinary matter, for she at such a moment could not entertain thosefeelings which might have restrained a lady of more refined breeding.
The pretty speech of Mrs. Butterby, reaching the fallen man's ear,seemed instantly to quicken his spirits, and, casting off his lethargichumour, he quickly staggered to his feet, while we raised Moll. Then,resting one hand upon the table for support, he craved her pardon forgiving so much trouble, but in a very faint, weak voice.
"I would have done as much for a dog," says Moll. "My friends willrender you what further services are fit; and, if it appears that youhave been unjustly used (as I do think you have), be sure you shall havereparation."
"I ask no more," says he, "than to be treated as I may merit in youresteem."
"Justice shall be done," says Don Sanchez, in his stern voice, and withthat he conducts Moll to the door.
But Moll was not content with this promise of justice. For the qualityof mercy begetteth love, so that one cannot moderate one's anger againstan enemy, but it doth breed greater compassion and leniency by makingone better content with oneself, and therefore more indulgent to others.And so, when she had left the room, she sends in her maid to fetch me,and taking me aside says with vivacity:
"I will have no punishment made upon that man."
"Nay," says I, "but if 'tis proved that his intent was to rob you--"
"What then!" says she. "Hath he not as much right to this estate as we?And are we one whit the better than he, save in the more fortunate issueof our designs? Understand me," adds she, with passion; "I will havenothing added to his unhappiness."
I found the young man seated at the table, and Don Sanchez gravelysetting food before him. But he would take nothing but bread, and thathe ate as though it were the sweetest meat in all the world. I lead theDon to the window, and there, in an undertone, told him of Moll'sdecision; and, whether her tone of supreme authority amused him or not,I cannot say, because of his impassive humour, but he answered me with aserious inclination of his head, and then we fell speaking of othermatters in our usual tone, until the young man, having satisfied thecravings of nature, spoke:
"When you are at liberty, gentlemen," says he, "to question my conduct,I will answer you."
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