Lady Good-for-Nothing: A Man's Portrait of a Woman

by Arthur Quiller-Couch

  Chapter XIV.

  MR. SILK PROPOSES.

  Farmer Cordery had six grown sons--Jonathan, George, William, Increase,Homer, and Lemuel--the eldest eight-and-twenty, the youngest sixteen.All were strapping fellows, and each as a matter of course had fallenover head and ears in love with Ruth.

  They were good lads and knew it to be hopeless. She had stepped intotheir home as a goddess from a distant star, to abide with them for awhile. They worshipped, none confessing his folly; but it made them herslaves, and emulous to shine before her as though she had been a queenof tournay. Because of her presence (it must be sadly owned)challengings, bickerings, even brotherly quarrels, disturbed more andmore the patriarchal peace of Sweetwater Farm. "I dunno what's comeover the boys," their father grumbled; "al'ays showing off an'jim-jeerin'. Regilar cocks on a dunghill. A few years agone I'd 'vecured it wi' the strap; but now there's no remedy."

  William had challenged his eldest brother Jonathan to "put" a largeround-shot that lay in the verandah. Their father had brought it homefrom the capture of Louisbourg as a souvenir. Jonathan and George hadserved at Louisbourg too, in the Massachusetts Volunteers; but William,though of age to fight, had been left at home to look after the farm andhis mother. It had been a sore disappointment at the time; now thatJonathan and George had taken on a sudden to boast, it rankled.Hence the challenge. The three younger lads joined in. If they couldnot defeat their seniors, they could at least dispute the mastery amongthemselves. Thereupon in all seriousness (ingenuous youths!) they votedthat Miss Josselin should be asked to umpire.

  The contest took place next morning after breakfast, in a paddock beyondthe elms, with Ruth for umpire and sole spectator. Nothing had beensaid to the farmer, who was fast losing his temper with "these dernedwagerings," and might have come down with a veto that none dareddisobey. He had ridden off, however, at sun-up to the mountain, to lookafter the half-wild hogs he kept at pasture among the woods at its base.

  Ruth measured out the casts conscientiously. In no event would theyoung men have disputed her arbitrament; but, as it happened, thisnicety was thrown away. Jonathan's "put" of forty feet--the shotweighed close upon sixteen pounds--easily excelled the others', who weresportsmen and could take a whipping without bad blood or dispute.The winner crowed a little, to be sure; it was the New England way.But Lemuel the youngest, who had outgrown his strength, had made adeplorable "put," and the rest jeered at him, to relieve their feelings.The boy fired up. "Oh, have your laugh!" he blazed, with angry tears inhis eyes. "But when it comes to running, there's not one of you butknows I can put circles round him."

  "Take you on, this moment," answered up young Increase. "Say, boys,we'll all take him on."

  Jonathan had no mind for any such "foolishness." He had won, and wascontent; and running didn't become the dignity of a grown man."We didn't run at Louisbourg, I guess." George echoed him. George couldout-tire even Jonathan at wood-cutting, but had no length of leg.

  But Ruth having compassion on the boy's hurt feelings, persuaded them.They could refuse no straight request of hers. She pointed to anoutlying elm that marked the boundary of the second pasture field beyondthe steading. This should be the turning-post, and would give them acourse well over half a mile, with a water-jump to be crossed twice.She ranged them in line, and dropped her handkerchief for signal.

  They were off. She stood with the sun at her back and watched the race.George, of the short legs, broad shoulders, and bullet head, was asprinter (as we call it nowadays) and shot at once to the front, withHomer not far behind, and Increase disputing the third place withLemuel. Jonathan and William made scarcely a show of competing.The eldest lad, indeed, coming to the brook, did not attempt to jump,but floundered heavily through it, scrambled up the farther bank, andlumbered on in hopeless pursuit. It was here that Lemuel's long easystride asserted itself, and taking first place he reached the tree withseveral yards' lead.

  "He will win at his ease now," said Ruth to herself; and just at thatmoment her ears caught the sound of a horse's footfall. She turned; butthe sun shone full in her eyes, and not for a second or two did sherecognise her visitor, Mr. Silk.

  He was on horseback, and, stooping from his saddle, was endeavouringjust now--but very unhandily--to unhasp the gate with the crook of hisriding-whip. Ruth did not offer to go to his help.

  He managed it at last, thrust the horse through by vigorous use of hisknees, and was riding straight up to the house. But just then he caughtsight of her, changed his course, and came towards her at a walk.

  "Ah, good-morning!" he called.

  "Good-morning."

  He dismounted. "Thought I'd ride over and pay you a call. The ladieswill not be starting on their return journey for another couple ofhours. So I borrowed a horse."

  "Evidently."

  "There's something wrong with him, I doubt." Mr. Silk was disagreeablyred and moist.

  "I dare say he is not used to being ridden mainly--or was it wholly?--onthe curb."

  He grinned. "Well, and I'm not used to riding, and that's a fact.But"--he leered the compliment--"there are few dangers I would notbrave for a glance from Miss Josselin."

  "You flatter me, sir. But I believe you braved a worse, yesterday,without claiming that reward."

  "Ah! You mean that Sir Oliver will be angry when he gets wind of ourlittle expedition? The ladies persuaded me--Adam's old excuse; I candeny nothing to the sex. . . . But what have we yonder? A race?"

  "It would appear so."

  "A very hollow one, if I may criticise. That youngster moves like adeer. . . . And what is his reward to be?--another glance of thesebright eyes? Ah, Miss Josselin, you make fools--and heroes--of us all!"

  Ruth turned from him to applaud young Lemuel, who came darting into theenclosure.

  "See old Jonathan!" panted the boy, looking back and laughing."That's how they ran at Louisbourg. . . . Miss Josselin, you should havemade it a mile and I'd have shown you some broken-winded ones."He laughed again and turned in apology to Mr. Silk. "I'll take yourhorse to stable, sir, if you'll let me catch my breath."

  The others came straggling up, a little abashed at sight of thestranger, but not surprised out of their good manners.

  "A clergyman?" said Jonathan. "My father will be home before sundown,sir. He will be proud if you can stay and have dinner with us."

  Mr. Silk explained that he had ridden over from Natchett to call on MissJosselin and had but an hour to spare. They insisted, however, that hemust eat before leaving, and they led away his horse to bait, leavinghim and Ruth together.

  "Will you come into the house?" she asked.

  "With your leave we can talk better here. . . . So you guessed that Imade one of the party? Miss Vyell told me."

  "It was not difficult to guess."

  "And you admired my courage?"

  Ruth's eyebrows went up to a fine arch. "When you were careful to keepin hiding?"

  "From motives of delicacy, believe me. It occurred to me that LadyCaroline might--er--speak her mind, and I had no wish to be distressedby it, or to distress you with my presence."

  "I thank you for so much delicacy, sir."

  "But Lady Caroline--let us do her justice! She calls a spade a spade,but there's no malice in it. You stood up to her, I gather. We've beendiscussing you this morning, and you may take my word she don't thinkthe worse of you for it. They're sportsmen, these high-born people.I come of good family myself, and know the sort. 'Slog and take aslogging; shake hands and no bad blood'--that's their way. The fine oldBritish way, after all." Mr. Silk puffed his cheeks and blew.

  "You have been discussing me with Lady Caroline?"

  "Yes," he answered flatly. "Yes," he repeated, and rolled his eyes."All for your good, you know. Of course she started by calling younames and taking the worst for granted. But I wouldn't have _that_."

  "Go on, sir, if you please."

  "I wouldn't have it, because I didn't believe it. If I did-
-hang it!--I shouldn't be here. You might do me that justice."

  "Why _are_ you here?"

  "I'm coming to that; but first I want you to open your eyes to theposition. You may think it's all very pretty and romantic and like FairRosamond--without the frailty as yet: that's granted. But how will itend? Eh? That's the question, if you'd bring your common sense tobear on it."

  "Suppose you help me, sir," said Ruth meekly.

  "That's right. I'm here to help, and in more ways than one. . . .Well, I know Sir Oliver; Lady Caroline knows him too; and if it'smarriage you're after, you might as well whistle the moon. You don'tbelieve me?" he wound up, for she was eyeing him with an inscrutablesmile.

  She lifted her shoulder a little. "For the sake of your argument wewill say that it is so."

  "Then what's to be the end? I repeat. Look here, missy. We spar a bitwhen we meet, you and I; but I'd be sorry to see you go the way you'regoing. 'Pon my honour I would. You're as pretty a piece of flesh as aman could find on this side of the Atlantic, and what's a sharp tonguebut a touch of spice to it? Piquancy, begad, to a fellow like me! . . .And--what's best of all, perhaps--you'd pass for a lady anywhere."

  She shrank back a pace before this incredible vulgarity; but not evenyet did she guess the man's drift.

  "So I put it to you, why not?" he continued, flushing as he came to thepoint and contemplated his prey. "You don't see yourself as a parson'swife, eh? You're not the cut. But for that matter _I'm_ not theordinary cut of parson. T'other side of the water we'd fly high.They'll not have heard of Port Nassau, over there, nor of the littlenest at Sabines; and with Lady Caroline to give us a jump-off--I haveher promise. She runs a Chapel of her own, somewhere off St. James's.Give me a chance to preach to the fashionable--let me get a foot insidethe pulpit door--and, with you to turn their heads in the Mall below,strike me if I wouldn't finish up a Bishop! _La belle Sauvage_--they'dput it around I'd found my beauty in the backwoods, and converted her.. . . Well, what d'ye say? Isn't that a prettier prospect than to endas Sir Oliver's cast-off?"

  She put a hand backwards, and found a gate-rail to steady her.

  "Ah! . . . How you dare!" she managed to murmur.

  "Dare? Eh! you're thinking of Sir Oliver?" He laughed easily."Lady Caroline will put _that_ all right. He'll be furious at first, nodoubt; my fine gentleman thinks himself the lion in the fable--when heshares out the best for himself, no dog dares bark. But we'll give himthe go-by, and afterwards he can't squeal without showing himself thepublic fool. . . . Squeal? I hope he will. I owe him one."

  At this moment young George and Increase Cordery came past the farcorner of the house with their team, their harness-chains jingling asthey rode afield. At sight of them a strong temptation assailed Ruth,but she thrust it from her.

  "Sir"--she steadied her voice--"bethink you, please, that I have only tolift a hand and those two, with their brothers, will drag you throughthe farm pond."

  Before he could answer, she called to them. As they turned and walkedtheir horses towards her she glanced at Mr. Silk, half mischievously inspite of her fierce anger. He was visibly perturbed; but his face,mottled yellow with terror, suggested loathing rather than laughter.

  "I am sorry to trouble you, but will you please fetch Mr. Silk's horse?He must return at once."

  When they were gone she turned to him.

  "I am sorry to dismiss you thus, sir, after the--the honour you havedone me; the more sorry because you will never understand."

  Indeed--his scare having passed--he was genuinely surprised, indignant.

  "I understand this much," he answered coarsely, "that I've offered tomake you an honest woman, but you prefer to be--" The word was on histongue-tip, but hung fire there.

  She had turned her back on him, and stood with her arms resting forsupport on the upper rail of the gate. She heard him walk away towardsthe stable-yard. . . . By-and-by she heard him ride off--heard the clickof the gate behind him. A while after this she listened, and then bowedher face upon her arms.