A RETURN BLOW
Zita hurried along the tow-path. Her mind was in a tumult. The full
force of the words of Ephraim she could not understand. He and his
comrades were letting the waters of the river Lark over Drownlands'
farm, that she knew; but to what an extent they would overflow, and
what amount of injury they might do, that was what she was incapable
of judging. It was a relief to her mind that no personal violence was
contemplated. The water that was let out could be pumped back again.
The Fens were wont to be flooded at times, and the mills could always
throw the flood from off them.
It was natural that her thoughts should revert to certain words that
had been dropped by the men—words that had fallen on her ears like
drops of fire. Why had Pip Beamish spoken to her as an 'unhappy girl'?
Why had she been referred to as 'belonging to Drownlands,' as 'Tiger
Ki's wench'? The tone in which these words had been used had conveyed
more insult than the words themselves. They implied that she was sold,
as Mark had said, body and soul, to the master of Prickwillow. Mark was
not alone in his ill opinion of her.
How had this opinion come to be formed? Surely not from the fact that
she was staying on in the house where she had been sheltered when her
father died? Every one must know that it was impossible for her to
leave it, unless she deserted her van and her wares.
There had been nothing in Drownlands' conduct towards her in public
to breed this opinion. The spring of the scandal must have been in
Leehanna Tunkiss. That woman had viewed the presence of Zita at
Prickwillow with jealousy, and had come to hate her.
In the first gush of womanly sympathy with a forlorn child, left
solitary, bereaved of her only parent, the housekeeper had urged Zita
to accept the hospitality offered her, and had welcomed her when she
transferred herself from the van in the outhouse into a room in the
farm dwelling. But no sooner did the keen eye of Leehanna observe that
Drownlands watched Zita with interest, and that the girl was acquiring
an extraordinary influence over him, than her envy was roused, and she
was filled with alarm lest her own position should be undermined, and
she should have to make way for the girl whom she had so readily taken
under the shelter of Prickwillow roof.
Zita had not failed to notice the growing malevolence exhibited towards
her by this woman. She had endeavoured to keep out of her way, but had
not laid much store on her ill-humour. Now she saw, or suspected, that
Leehanna had been poisoning the minds of the neighbourhood against
her, and she had little doubt that the alienation of Mark was due in a
measure to the slanders of Mrs. Tunkiss.
Presently Zita saw the light that shone from Kainie's window. The girl
had not as yet deserted her habitation. A little muslin blind was drawn
across the casement, and the candlelight shone hazily through that.
During the frost, when the waters were chained down, the windmills were
not worked, so that there was no immediate necessity for a successor to
take the place of the girl-miller. No doubt that Mark would inform the
Commissioners that Kainie's charge of the mill was at an end, and that
it was incumbent on them to immediately look out for a successor. But
Kainie had not as yet departed, though it might be she was preparing
for her 'flitting.'
Had Mark come for her? Was he with her now? Or was she sitting in her
cottage with throbbing heart, waiting for him to arrive?
Was it a fact that Mark Runham grasped at money? It was not true.
Drownlands had charged him falsely in that. He was taking Kainie,
who had nothing. With a twinge, Zita thought how that she herself was
enriching her rival with what might, had she willed it, become her own.
With a sickness at heart, Zita looked forward to the day when Kainie
would join the acres of Prickwillow to those of Crumbland, and bid Zita
go forth a wanderer and destitute—and it was her own doing.
Was she one who sold body and soul for profits? She might have been
Drownlands' wife; she had refused this. She might have been his heir;
she had refused that: and Kainie reaped all the advantages that sprang
out of her refusals.
No! There was something that was dearer to Zita even than profits.
As Zita approached Red Wings, the dog, standing on the brick platform,
began to bark. Zita called to him, and he came to her bounding. On her
former visits she had brought Wolf something in her pocket. Now that he
reached her, he thrust his nose into her hand beseechingly.
She halted at the tuft of thorn-bushes and flags below the platform,
and seated herself there, throwing her arm round the dog. She would not
present herself at the door of the hut, and receive a rough greeting
from Kainie. She would wait and see whether Mark were there before she
made her presence known. The explanation she had to make, the story
to tell, she would in preference make and tell to Mark. She did not
forget that she had struck Kainie, and she knew that her chances of
placing her conduct in a favourable light were greater with a man than
with a woman.
A dark figure of a man issued from the cottage door and stood on the
platform, looking round. After a moment he went back to the door,
saying—
'There is no one that I can see, but the night is dark, Kainie.'
The voice was that of Mark.
He did not re-enter the cottage, but, standing where he was, he said—
'Come, Kainie, it is time for us to be off. My mother is expecting you.'
The girl issued from the hovel.
'Mark,' said she, 'has she really consented to receive me?'
'Yes, she has.'
'Yet I know that she has refused to see me, and even to hear about me.'
'That is true, but now she has given way. I could not allow you to
remain here. I took a firm stand with my mother, and she admitted that
I was right, and yielded. Now, have you got all ready for the sledge?'
'I have packed everything.'
'Then jump on to the sleigh, and I will run you along upon the ice,
which is in prime condition.'
Zita's arm convulsively nipped the dog.
How happy she had been on that day when Mark had run her along on the
ice on the same bones that were now to bear her successful rival!
Wolf protested against the pressure of her arm by a growl.
'Where are you, Wolf?' called Mark.
Zita released the dog, and he sprang upon the platform.
'I wonder what the old fellow means,' said the young man. 'He does not
usually give false alarms. I daresay he's puzzled at our proceedings.
Something affecting his interests is in view, Kainie, and he can't
understand it. It is so dark one can't see far; but had any one been
coming, he would have given tongue lustily.'
'Perhaps it may be Pip.'
'Pip will have to be careful for the next day or two. If he be caught,
'twill go hard with him for certain.'
'But you will get him away from the Fens?'
'Yes. I am making arrangements. If he can keep hidden for a few more
days and nights, I shall have managed matters, and be able to clear
him off; to clear him not only from the Fens, but out of England. Now,
however, we must think of you. Take with you only such traps as you
need immediately, and which you can carry in your arms or on your lap.
I'll return for the rest to-morrow.'
'I shall leave the fire burning and the light on the table.'
'Yes, for Pip when he comes. Folk will think nothing of seeing the
light, making sure it is yours. He can hide here till I am ready to
send him away; and Wolf shall remain to give him notice if any one
approaches. I'll tie him up.'
Kainie re-entered the cottage, and Mark proceeded to tie Wolf by a
piece of twine that he had in his pocket.
Whilst he was thus engaged, Kainie came out with her little package,
and stood watching the proceedings of the young man.
The dog was restless, and objected to being fastened.
'Don't be angry with me, Mark,' said Kainie, 'if I ask you a question.'
'No; what may it be?'
'It concerns that wretched creature—that Cheap Jack girl. You were
rather taken with her at first, Mark, till you found out what she was.
You are quite sure you don't fancy her no longer?'
The young fellow had been stooping over the dog. He stood up and said
gravely—
'Kainie! I regard her now no more than I do the dirt under my soles.'
'Hark! what is that?'
The sound was that of a gasp or sob.
'There is certainly some one here,' said Mark. 'Bring a light.'
'You need not,' said Zita, rising from behind the thorns. 'It is I.'
'You here, Zita?'
'Yes. I heard what you said of me.'
'I am sorry for that.'
'It is cruelly false.'
'I cannot go into that matter. What has brought you here at this time
o' night?'
'What has brought her here?' repeated Kainie. 'There is no need to ask
that, Mark; the wretched creature is running after you.'
'You must go back,' said the young man.
'Yes, go back—to your dear master,' sneered Kainie.
'I must speak. I must justify myself,' said Zita, with vehemence.
'You wrong me in your thoughts; you wrong me in your words. I am not
what you suppose. I am not a bold, bad girl. I do not sell myself for
profits. I am in Drownlands' house because I cannot help myself. I have
nowhere else whither to go. Why should you and Kainie believe evil of
me? Why should'—
'I cannot argue with you,' said Mark. 'This is not the place; this is
not the time. I am sorry for you. I can say no more. I thought better
of you once.'
'Go, you Cheap Jackess,' said Kainie. 'Unless you had a heart lost to
shame, you'd not have come here after Mark at night.'
'You misjudge me in this as in other things,' said Zita, bursting into
tears. 'I came here for your good.'
'That's a fine tale,' sneered Kainie. 'We want no good from you, nor do
we expect figs of thistles or grapes of thorns.'
Mark said nothing, but stepped from the platform.
'I entreat you to listen to me,' said Zita, catching his arm. 'It is
not true that Drownlands has left me everything.'
'I cannot attend to this now,' said he, disengaging himself from her
grasp. But she again seized him.
'Unsay what you said!' she exclaimed. Her anger was rising and
overmastering her grief. 'Unsay those ugly words—that I am the dirt
under your feet.'
'I said—but never mind. I regret that you overheard me use such an
expression.'
'That is not unsaying it.'
Kainie came up and struck Zita with the full force of her heavy hand
across the face.
'Take that,' she said; 'I have owed it you. Now the debt is repaid.'
Then she stepped on the ice with a 'Mark, I am ready.'
'Go!' cried Zita in towering wrath, stung with pain, maddened with
humiliation. 'Go—go under the ice, both of you! I care not! I care
not!'