"Still sun and rain made emerald green the loveliest fields on earth,
And gave the type of deathless hope, the little shamrock, birth."
IRISH BALLAD.
The King's visit left traces. Emlyn had become far more restless and
consciously impatient of the dullness and seclusion of the Hermit's
Gulley. Not only did she, as before, avail herself of every pretext for
going into the village, or for making expeditions to Bristol, but she
openly declared the place a mere grave, intolerable to live in, and she
confided to Jerusha that the King had declared that it was a shame to
hide her there--such charms were meant for the world.
The only way of getting into the world that occurred to her was going
into service at Bristol, and she talked of this whenever she specially
hated her spinning, or if Patience ventured to complain of her gadding
about, gossipping with Nanny Pierce or Kitty Blane, or getting all the
young lads in Elmwood round her, to be amused and teased by her lively
rattle.
Patience began to be decidedly of opinion that it would be much better
for all parties that the girl should be under a good mistress. Both she
and Rusha were over sixteen years old; and though it was much improved,
the house was hardly fit for so many inhabitants, and both Goody Grace
and Dame Blane had told Patience that it would be better, both for
the awkward Rusha and the gay Emlyn, if they could have some household
training.
Mistress Elmwood, at the Hall, had noted the family at church, and
observed their perfect cleanliness and orderliness, and it was intimated
that at the Ladyday hiring, she would take Rusha among her maidens.
Shy Rusha cried a great deal, and wished Emlyn would go instead, but
Mrs. Elmwood would not have hired that flighty damsel on any account,
and Emlyn was sure it would be but mopish work to live under a starched
old Puritan. Mrs. Lightfoot was therefore applied to, to find a service
for Emlyn Gaythorn, and she presently discovered one Mistress Sloggett,
a haberdasher's wife of wealth and consideration, who wanted a young
maidservant.
Emlyn was presented to her by the bakester, undertook for everything,
and was hired by the twelvemonth, going off in high glee at the variety
and diversion she expected to enjoy at the sign of the "Sheep and
Shears," though clinging with much tenderness to her friends as they
parted.
"Remember, Emlyn, this is the home where you will always be welcome,"
said Stead.
"As if I wanted to _remember_ it," said Emlyn, with her sweet smile. "As
if I did not know where be kind hearts."
The hovel seemed greatly deserted when the two young girls were gone.
Patience sorely missed Rusha, her diligent little helper, and latterly
her companion too; and the lack of Emlyn's merry tongue made all around
seem silent and tedious. Steadfast especially missed the girl. Perhaps
it was due to the King's gibes that her absence fully opened to him the
fact that he knew not how to do without her. After his usual fashion,
he kept the discovery to himself, not even talking to Patience about it,
being very shamefaced at the mere thought, which gave a delicious warmth
to his heart, though it made him revolve schemes of saving up till he
had a sufficient sum, with which to go to the squire and propose to meet
him half-way in rebuilding the old house; not such an expensive matter
as it would be in these days. There, in full view of all that passed
down Elmwood Lane, Emlyn could not complain of solitude, he thought! But
there was this difficulty in the way, that Jephthah had never resigned
his claims as eldest son, and might come home at any time, and take
possession of all the little farm at which Steadfast had worked for
seven years.
The war was over, and nothing had been heard of Jeph, except the
king's apocryphal history, since his visit after the taking of Bristol.
Patience had begun to call him "poor Jeph," and thought he must have
been killed, but Stead had ascertained that the army had not been
disbanded, and believed him still to be employed.
At length, one market day, Mrs. Lightfoot told him, "There has been
one asking for you, Kenton, Seth Coleman, the loriner's son, that went
soldiering when your brother did. He landed last week from Ireland with
a wooden leg, and said he, 'Where shall I come to the speech of one
Steadfast Kenton? I have a greeting from his brother, the peculiarly
favoured,' or some such word, 'Jephthah Kenton, who told me I should
hear tidings of him from Mrs. Bakester Lightfoot, at the sign of the
"Wheatsheaf."' I told him where you abode, and he said he knew as much
from your brother, but he could not be tramping out to Elmwood on a
wooden leg. So says I 'I will send Steadfast Kenton to you next market
day.' You will find him at the sign at the 'Golden Bridle,' by the Wharf
Stairs."
Stead had no sooner disposed of his wares than he went in search of
the loriner's shop, really one for horse furniture. There was a bench
outside, looking out on the wharf and shipping, and on it was seated
the returned soldier, with a little party round him, to whom he was
expounding what sounded more military than religious:
"And so, the fort having been summoned and quarter promised, if so be
no resistance were made, always excepting Popish priests, and--Eh! What
now? Be you an old neighbour? I don't remember your face."
"I have seen you, though. I am Jephthah Kenton's brother, that you asked
for."
"I mind you were but a stripling in those days, and yet in gross
darkness. Yea, I have a letter for thee from my comrade, who is come to
high preferment."
"Jeph!"
"Yea, things have prospered with him. He was a serjeant even before we
sailed for Ireland, and there he did such good service in hunting
out Popish priests and rebels in their lurking places in the bogs and
mountains, that the Lord General hath granted him the land that he
took with his sword and his bow, even a meadow land fat and fertile,
Ballyshea by name, full of the bulls of Bashan, goodly to look at. And
to make all sure, he hath taken to wife the daughter of the former owner
of the land a damsel fair to look upon."
"Jeph! But sure--the Irish are Papists."
"Not the whole of them. There are those that hold to Prelacy and call
themselves King's men, following the bloody and blinded Duke of Ormond.
Of them was this maid's father, whom we slew at the taking of Clonmel,
where I got this wound and left my good right leg. So is the race not to
the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but time and chance happeneth
to all. When I could hobble about once more on crutches, I found that
the call had come to divide and possess the gate of the enemy, and that
the meads of Ballyshea had fallen to Serjeant Kenton. Moreover, in the
castle hard by, dwelt the widow and her daughter, who cried to General
Lambert for their land, and what doth he say to Jephthah, but 'Make it
sure, Kenton. Take the maid to wife, and so none will disturb you in the
fair heritage.' Yea, and mine old comrade would have me sojourn with him
till I was quite restored, so far as a man with one limb short may be. I
tell you 'tis a castle, man."
"Our Jeph lord of a castle?"
"Aye, even so. Twice as big as Elmwood Hall, if half were not in ruins,
and the other half the rats run over like peas out of a bag. While as to
the servants, there are dozens of them, mostly barefoot and in rags, who
will run at the least beck from the old mistress or the young mistress,
though they scowl at the master. But he is taking order with them, and
teaching them who is to be obeyed."
"Then our Jephthah is a great man?"
"You may say that--a bigger man than the squire at Elmwood, or at Leigh
I can tell you. Only I would give all that bare mountain and bog, full
of wild, Popish, red-haired kernes for twenty yards in a tidy street at
Bristol, with decent godly folk around me. Murdering or being murdered,
I have marvelled more than once whether the men of Israel were as sick
of it in Canaan as I was at Drogheda, but the cry ever was, 'Be not
slack in the work.' But I will bring you Jephthah's letter. He could not
write when he went off, but he could not be a serjeant without, so we
taught him--I and Corporal Faith-Wins."
Jephthah's handwriting was of a bold description doing honour to his
tutors, but the letter was very brief, though to the purpose--
"Dear Brothers and Sisters,
"This is to do you, to wit, that by the grace of Heaven on my poor
endeavours I am come to high preferment. A goodly spoil hath fallen
unto me, namely, the castle and lands of Ballyshea, and therewith
the daughter of the owner, deceased, by name Ellen Roche, whom I have
espoused in marriage, and am bringing to the light of truth. I have
castle, lands, flocks and herds, men-servants and maid-servants in
abundance, and I give thanks to Him who hath rewarded His servant.
"Therefore I wholly resign to you, my brethren, Steadfast and Benoni,
any rights of heirship that may be mine in respect of the farmstead of
Elmwood, and will never, neither I nor my heirs, trouble you about it
further. Yet if Ben, or my sisters Patience and Jerusha, be willing to
cross over to me in this land of promise they shall be kindly welcome,
and I shall find how to bestow them well in marriage. Mine old comrade,
Seth Coleman, will tell them how to reach the Castle of Ballyshea, and
how to find safe convoy, and tell you more of the estate wherewith it
has pleased Heaven to reward my poor services.
"And so commending you to His holy keeping, no more from your loving
brother,
"JEPHTHAH KENTON."
The spelling of this was queer, even according to the ways of the time,
but it was not hard to understand, and it might well fill Steadfast with
amazement.
He longed to share the tidings with Emlyn, but he did not feel as if it
would be right to let anyone hear before Patience. Only as he went back
and called again at Mrs. Lightfoot's for his basket, she asked
whether he had found Seth Coleman, and if his brother had come to such
preferment as was reported.
"Yea," said Steadfast, "he hath a grant of land, and a castle, and a
wife."
"Eh, now! Lack-a-day! 'Tis alway the most feather-pated that fly
highest."
Cromwell's Ironsides feather-pated! But that did not trouble Steadfast,
who all the way home, as he rode his donkey, was thinking of the
difference it made in his prospects, and in what he had to offer Emlyn
to be able to feel his tenure so much more secure.
Patience and Ben listened in utter amazement ending in a not
complimentary laugh on the part of the former. "Our Jeph lord of a
castle? I'd like to see him."
"Would you? He has a welcome and a husband ready for you and Rusha
both?"
"D'ye think I would go and leave you for Jeph, if he were lord of ten
castles?"
And Ben, whose recollections of Jeph were very dim, exclaimed, "Lord of
a castle! I shall have a crow over Nick Blane now!"
Rusha, who was well content with her service at the hall, had no mind
for such a terrible enterprise as a journey "beyond seas" to Ireland,
and mayhap Jeph's prospective husband was a less tempting idea, because
a certain young groom had shown symptoms of making her his sweetheart.
Steadfast thought often of telling the great secret of his heart to his
faithful sister Patience, but his extreme shyness and modesty, and the
reserve in which he always lived, seemed to make it impossible to him
to broach the subject, and there might be a certain consciousness that
Emlyn, while his own pet, had been very troublesome to Patience.
Stead was two-and-twenty, a sturdy well-grown fellow, but the hard work
he had been obliged to do as a growing lad, had rounded his shoulders,
and he certainly did not walk like the men who had been drilled for
soldiers. His face was healthy and sunburnt, with fair short hair and
straightforward grey eyes. At the first glance people would say, "What
a heavy-looking, clownish young man," but at the second there was
something that made a crying child in the street turn to him for help
in distress, and made the marketing dames secure that he told the truth
about his wares.
Patience was rather startled by seeing him laboriously tying up a posy
of wild rose, honeysuckle, and forget-me-not, and told him the Bristol
folks would not buy those common wild flowers.
"They are for none of them," replied Stead, a little gruffly, and
colouring hotly at being caught.
"Oh!" said Patience, in her simplicity. "Are they for Emlyn? I do not
think her mistress will let you see her."
"I shall," said Stead. "She ought to know of our good fortune."
"He has forgotten that Emlyn is not our sister after all," said
Patience, as she went back to her washing.
"She might as well," said Ben, who could not remember the hut without
Emlyn.
Stead had better luck than Patience foreboded from a household where the
servants were kept very strictly, for there was a good deal of curiosity
in Bristol about the report that a lad from the neighbourhood had won an
Irish heiress and castle, and when Stead presented himself at the
door of the house under the overhanging gable, and begged to see Emlyn
Gaythorn to give her some tidings, the maid who opened it exclaimed, "Is
it anent the castle in Ireland?"
Stead awkwardly said "Aye, mistress." And as it became evident that the
readiest way of learning the facts would be his admission, he was let
into the house into a sort of wainscotted hall, where he found the
mistress herself superintending three or four young sempstresses who
were making shirts for the gentlemen of the garrison. Emlyn was among
them, and sprang up looking as if white seams were not half so congenial
as nutting in the gulley, but she looked prettier than ever, as the
little dark curls burst out of the prim white cap, she sniffed the
flowers with ecstasy, and her eyes danced with delight that did Stead's
heart good to see. He needed it, for to stand there hat in hand before
so many women all staring at him filled him with utter confusion,
so that he could scarcely see, and stumbled along when Mrs. Sloggett
called, "Come here, young man. Is it true that it is your brother who
has won a castle and a countess in Ireland?"
"Not a countess, ma'am," said Stead, gruff with shyness, "but a castle."
Mrs. Sloggett put him through a perfect catechism on Jeph and his
fortunes, which he answered at first almost monosyllabically, though
afterwards he could speak a little more freely, when the questions
did not go quite beyond his knowledge. Finally he succeeded in asking
permission to take Emlyn and show her his brother's letter. Mrs.
Sloggett was gracious to the brother of the lord of a castle, even in
Ireland, and moreover Emlyn was viewed in the light of one of the Kenton
family.
So leave was granted to take Master Kenton (he had never been so called
before) out into the garden of pot-herbs behind the house, and Emlyn
with her dancing step led the way, by a back door down a few steps into
a space where a paved walk led between two beds of vegetables, bordered
with a narrow edge of pinks, daisies, and gilliflowers, to a seat under
the shade of an old apple tree, looking out, as this was high ground,
over the broad river full of shipping.
"Stead! Stead, good old Stead," she cried, "to come just as I was half
dead with white seam and scolding! Emlyn here! Emlyn there! And she's
ready with her fingers too. She boxed mine ears till they sang again
yesterday."
"The jade," muttered Stead. "What for?"
"Only for looking out at window," said Emlyn. "How could I help it, when
there were six outlandish sailors coming up the street leading a big
black bear. Well, Stead, and are you all going to live with Jeph in his
castle, and will you take me?"
"He asks me not," said Stead, and began to read the letter, to which
Emlyn listened with many little remarks. "So Patience and Rusha wont go.
I marvel at them, yet 'tis like sober-sided old Patty! And mayhap among
the bogs and hills 'tis lonelier than in the gulley. I mind a trooper
who had served in Ireland telling my father it was so desolate he would
not banish a dog there. But what did he say about home, Stead, I thought
it was all yours?"
Stead explained, and also the possibility of endeavouring to rebuild the
farmhouse. If he could go to Mr. Elmwood with thirty pounds he thought
it might be done. "And then, Emlyn, when that is saved (and I have five
pounds already), will you come and make it your home for good and all?"
"Stead! oh Stead! You don't mean it--you--Why, that's sweethearting!"
"Well, so it is, Emlyn," said Stead, a certain dignity taking the place
of his shyness now it had come to the point. "I ask you to be my little
sweetheart now, and my wife when I have enough to make our old house
such as it was when my good mother was alive."
"Stead, Stead, you always were good to me! Will it take long, think
you? I would save too, but I have but three crowns the year, and that
sour-faced Rachel takes all the fees."
"The thing is in the hands of God. It must depend on the crops, but
with this hope before me, I will work as never man worked before," said
Stead.
"And I will be mistress there!" cried Emlyn.
"My wife will be mistress wherever I am sweet."
"Ah, ha!" she laughed, "now I have something to look to, I shall heed
little when the dame flouts me and scolds me, and Joan twits me with her
cousin the 'prentice."
They had only just time to go through the ceremony of breaking a tester
between them before a shrill call of "Emlyn" resounded down the garden.
Mrs. Sloggett thought quite time enough had been wasted over the young
man, and summoned the girl back to her sewing.
Emlyn made a face of disgust, very comical and very joyous, but as the
good dame was actually coming in search of her no more could pass.
Stead went away overflowing with happiness, and full of plans of raising
the means of bringing back this sunshine of his hearth. Perhaps it was
well that, though slow of thought, Patience still had wit enough in the
long hours of the day to guess that the nosegay boded something. She
could not daunt or damp Steadfast's joy--nay, she had affection enough
for the pretty little being she had cherished for seven years to think
she shared it--but she knew all the time that there would be no place
in that new farmhouse for her, and there was a chill over her faithful
heart at times. But what would that signify, she thought, provided that
Stead was happy?