IN WHICH THE WOMAN ENTERS WITH THE SERPENT
THREE hours later Hannah and Jagger were alone, but for a while
neither of them had much to say. To watch the changing expression on the
woman’s face you would have said that tenderness and contempt were
striving for the mastery on the battlefield of her soul and that the
issue was uncertain. Hannah was only thirty but Nature had taken little
pains in her fashioning, leaving her angular in outline and pinched in
features; and responsibility had unloaded its burden on her shoulders at
an age when most girls are unfettered or at worst in leading-strings,
for the mother had died when Hannah was fourteen. Ten years later the
grandmother, recently widowed, had come to share the home and the income
and to add to the girl’s trials. Grannie was masterful; but Hannah was
mistress and had no mind at twenty-four to bend her neck to the
authority of seventy-five. The encounters that took place were by tacit
consent of both parties confined to occasions when the men-folk were out
of hearing, and victory was not always on one side, but in the end
Hannah triumphed, and her crowning achievement, the trophy of her
success, was not in the subjugation but the conversion of her
grandmother. In the hour that grannie lay down her arms she confessed
that she “liked a lass o’ mettle,” and could rest satisfied that one of
the family had “a bit o’ bite in her,” now that Maniwel had turned queer
in his head, and had bred a son whose bark was loud enough but who never
bared his teeth in the good old moorland fashion. From that time
Hannah’s ascendancy had been undisputed, but the conflict, and the
anxiety that had attended her father’s accident, had left their mark
upon her features which contradicted the parish register by ten years at
least.
You had only to enter the cottage to discover at once where Hannah’s
energies found their outlet and justification. If her house was no
cleaner than the houses of her neighbours it was to their credit and not
to her disparagement. Not all the women of Mawm made pretensions of
godliness but there were few who did not worship at the shrine of
cleanliness, and with no mere lip-service—were they not Yorkshire folk
and moor-folk?
“Cleanliness next to godliness?” Yea, verily; and in that order.
There was something about the Drakes’ cottage, however, that was not
found everywhere; something not quite definable—a daintiness, a touch
of refinement, revealed in the harmony of colours and the sight of
flowers, perhaps, and accentuated by the absence of anything that
jarred. It was Hannah’s doing, but it aroused neither admiration nor
envy in the breasts of her neighbours, none of whom was very concerned
to inquire how it was that the Drakes’ home was the cosiest and
pleasantest in the village.
Having been sent into the world by a watchful Providence four years in
advance of her brother, and installed by force of circumstances in the
position of mother to the boy of ten, the girl recognised in the
position a special responsibility which she changed into a privilege.
Other lads, other young men, rather annoyed her; she treated them with
the scant attention that is almost a discourtesy; but she lavished a
mother’s as well as a sister’s affection on Jagger, and did her best to
correct the faults in his character which the maternal instinct enabled
her to remark even before they became apparent to the quick eyes of her
father. It was quite in accordance with her nature that she rarely
discussed her hopes and fears and difficulties with her father, though
she endowed him in her thoughts with all the virtues of the superman; a
sense of loyalty to her brother and also a recognition of her father’s
ability to deal with the situation held her back. But she lost no
opportunity to repress the boy’s tendencies to indulge in a
half-feminine peevishness that made him moody and irritable, and,—to
one of her temperament—even contemptible. It had the same effect on her
father; but what she fought against in herself she could not tolerate in
another, so the exhibition of disdain in look or word always brought her
to arms.
The room was looking particularly attractive in the yellow light of the
lamp and the red glow of the dwindling fire, and as Hannah leaned back
in the chair grannie had vacated an hour before and listened to the wind
which was now howling about the door, her eyes rested with an appraising
scrutiny on this article and that as if she were determining what ravage
of to-day would call for first attention on the morrow.
Jagger had not moved from his place on the hearth, and sat with his head
in his hands gazing into the embers where he had already built
sufficient wooden castles to line the banks of the Rhine. It was one of
Jagger’s faults (or excellences, if that is your point of view) that he
was ready to build without troubling his brain over much on the subject
of foundations.
Hannah’s eyes fell from the two hams that were suspended from the
rafters to the bowl of chrysanthemums on the chest of drawers, and
finally rested on the big Bible that lay open beneath the lamp, where
her father had left it when he went upstairs to bed, and her thoughts
were diverted.
“There are some queer ideas in t’ Bible,” she remarked, “some of them he
read to-night there isn’t many goes by—not in this neighbourhood,
anyway.”
Jagger roused himself and yawned. “I never heard a word he read,” he
admitted. “I was putting t’ new shop up and getting some bill-heads
printed—‘Drake and Son, Timber Merchants and Contractors, Mawm.’ I
could very near forgive Baldwin for sacking me.”
“‘Timber Merchants and Contractors!’” repeated Hannah with a scornful
intonation that ought to have crumpled up her brother like a blighted
leaf. “‘All kinds of jobbing work promptly attended to’ would be nearer
t’ mark. If you weren’t my own brother I should think you a fool. One
minute you’re at t’ bottom o’ Gordel and all t’ Scar tumbling on you,
and t’ next you’re atop o’ Fountain Fell with your head in t’ clouds.
You’d be in a poor way if it wasn’t for father; and it ’ud pay you to
take a leaf out of his book as I’ve told you hundreds o’ times. _He_
keeps his head in all weathers, and naught moves him. He’s a pauper
compared wi’ Baldwin; but to listen to him you’d think he was a
millionaire, like Mr. Harris. ‘As having nothing, yet possessing all
things.’ His face fair lit up when he read it.”
Jagger’s lip curled and he spoke impatiently. “It’s a fad he’s got into
his head and it’s turned him soft. You ask grannie what she thinks about
it! With notions like his no man could make his way—always bending his
back for someone else to climb up on his shoulders. I’m tired of being
naught but a ladder, but father thinks it’s what we’re here for. You’ve
to look after yourself in this world, and leave other folks to look
after theirselves.”
Hannah leaned back in her chair and regarded her brother with a scornful
look.
“That’s Baldwin’s motto,” she said. “You’d better go partners with
_him_, Jagger Drake. ‘All for my-sen!’ I thought that was what him and
you had quarrelled over. You want to know your own mind, my lad, and
find out whose side you’re on before you start in business for
yourself.”
“I’m not such a mean devil as Baldwin is,” he returned, flushing a
little; and his sister replied:
“Happen you dursn’t be; but ‘all for my-sen’ ’ud soon bring you to where
he stands. You can’t blow both hot and cold at t’ same time; and you
want to know where you are, as I say, before you put your sign up.”
The only reply was a scowl and Hannah changed her tone.
“I’m vexing you,” she said soothingly; “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s
as father says, you go t’ straight road if you grumble at t’ ruts; but I
wish from my soul you weren’t always looking as if you’d made a meal o’
baking-powder.”
The conversation was interrupted at this point by a knock at the door
and the raising of the latch, and as Hannah got to her feet a girl
entered the room and unwrapped the scarf that had covered her neck and
shoulders. Jagger’s face lost its look of inertness when he recognised
the visitor.
“Nay, Nancy! Who’d have thought of you popping in at this time o’
night?” was Hannah’s greeting; but the tone was cordial and not as
overcharged with surprise as the words implied.
“Do you call it late?” the newcomer asked indifferently. “In Airlee we
should have said the evening was just beginning. _I’m_ not going to bed
just yet, but I won’t keep you two up though Jagger’ll be able to lie a
bit longer than usual in the morning. Keturah’s only just told me that
you’re sacked,” she continued, turning eyes that were more curious than
sympathetic on the young man; “and that a stranger has got your job; and
I dodged them both and came down to see what you’re going to do.”
“A stranger got my job, do you say?” inquired Jagger as Nancy sat down
in his father’s chair. “Who is he?”
He was vexed, and face and tone showed it; it was just another instance
of Baldwin’s cursed good luck.
“I don’t know. Somebody who had walked over from Scaleber to seek a job,
and heard you rowing.”
“We didn’t row,” returned Jagger. “I just told Mr. Briggs a thing or two
that was on my mind as quietly as I’m talking to you now, and then he
slipped his temper and went for me tooth and nail. Called me a thief
into t’ bargain, and that bides a bit of swallowing.”
“He’ll take you on again,” said Nancy confidently; “not because he loves
you, but because he knows when he’s well served; and I daresay he’ll
give you your rise, too, when his gorge goes down. You’re short of tact,
Jagger. You get naught out of Baldwin by holding a pistol at his head.”
Jagger laughed, knowingly and triumphantly. “I’ve a card up my sleeve
that’ll pull Mr. Briggs’ face to twice its length. If he was to double
my wage I wouldn’t go back to a man that’s called me thief. I’m starting
for myself, Nancy, as soon as I can get a few things together.”
“Starting for yourself—here?” The question was rapped out, and the
expression of the speaker’s eyes became suddenly hostile.
“Aye, here,” he replied; and he looked across at his sister so that he
missed the shadow that swept over their visitor’s face and left it
black. In just the same way does the Tarn that lies on the lap of the
wild moor, 900 feet above the village and overlooked by mountains that
lift their heads hundreds of feet higher still, display its mood—at one
moment calm, unruffled, streaked and dotted with blue, or brilliantly
white with cloud reflections; the next, grey and angry-looking as a
storm leaps up from the south, making the sky leaden.
Nancy Clegg was only in her twenty-third year, but she was a woman
full-grown and quite conscious of her developed powers. There was an air
of distinction about her that other young women lacked—an air that had
brought men to her side and kept them there even in the city where she
had been spending a few weeks with her uncle’s family, and though she
was rather sparely built, on the model of the moorwoman, she had none of
Hannah’s angularities to destroy the symmetry of her figure, and her
black hair and clear black eyes together with a straight, fine nose and
expressive lips would have made her noticeable in any company and
aroused admiration in most. Few women ever had their features in better
control than she; but there were occasions when she gave them free play
and this was one of them. Hannah noticed the change, and her mouth
tightened.
“Oh, I see!” said Nancy, and the coldness in the voice caused Jagger to
look up. Instantly his face fell as he saw that his communication was
ill-received.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he inquired petulantly. “I should never have thought
of starting for myself if he hadn’t sacked me, but you can’t always be
lying down and letting a man wipe his feet on you. A bit of
competition’ll do Baldwin good, and teach him a lesson!”
“I suppose you won’t expect me to congratulate you, seeing that I’ve an
interest in the business?” she replied coldly; and she stretched out her
hand for the scarf which she proceeded to wrap about her shoulders. “If
you’ve made up your mind there’s nothing more to be said, and I might
have spared myself my errand. Don’t get up, Hannah. I can let myself
out.”
Poor Jagger! A chill like that of night when the wet mists steal down
the sides of Cawden sent a shiver over his spirits and choked his
speech. In his eagerness to avenge himself upon his master he had
forgotten that Nancy would be affected by the scheme, and Nancy was the
all-important consideration. When he had spoken of his father’s age as
the barrier to his freedom of action he had been half-conscious of
insincerity, and he knew now, if he had not definitely acknowledged it
to himself before, that it was she of the black locks and black eyes and
not his sire who made the thought of leaving Mawm unpalatable. His mind
was not quick enough to grapple with the situation, however, and whilst
he was groping round for a way of escape Hannah’s voice cut the silence.
“It was father’s idea,” she said with a coldness equal to Nancy’s own,
as she rose and moved towards the door. “Maybe he hadn’t just thought
how it ’ud concern you; but by all accounts Mr. Briggs turns trade
enough away to keep one pair o’ hands busy. You know father well enough,
Nancy, to be sure he’ll do naught to hurt you, and I’m sorry if you take
it amiss. If you were Jagger’s sister you’d be tired o’ seeing him eat
dirt to keep in with a master ’at holds him down. _I’d_ have chucked it
long since, if it had been me.”
“Jagger’s a right to please himself, and I’m not disputing it,” said
Nancy haughtily; “but if there’s to be two firms in the village you
can’t expect me to be any friend to the second.”
Jagger had found his tongue by now and he followed the girl to the door
and stood with her in the opening, uttering vehement protests to which
Hannah closed her ears and Nancy listened reluctantly.
“You’d best think it over,” she said in tones that had lost nothing of
their iciness as she turned away. “I’ll say naught about it at home,
Jagger, in the hope that you’ll change your mind.”
She walked away rapidly; but hearing footsteps quicken behind her
thought Jagger was following and wheeled round with an impatient
dismissal on her lips.
It was some other, however, who hurried up—a stranger obviously, for a
bowler hat was silhouetted against the sky and gear of that kind was
never seen on the heads of the male fraternity of Mawm except on
Sundays. Although a glance was all she gave him when she perceived her
mistake there was something that seemed familiar in the man’s outline,
and for a second or two she puzzled over it and wondered why she was
followed; but though she went on her way more quickly she was not
afraid.
“You walk fast, Miss Clegg!” The voice was low and carried a laugh in
its tones and Nancy started and stood still.
“Who are you?” she inquired; but the revelation came to her as the
moonlight fell upon his face, and her heart beat more quickly than
exertion could account for; yet her subdued exclamation—“If it isn’t
Mr. Inman!” was coloured by annoyance rather than pleasure.
“James Inman, at your service,” he replied, raising his hat with a
courtesy that was deliberately theatrical. “I believe I told you when
you doubted my word, that I should find ways and means to see you again;
and here I am.”
Nancy tossed her head—a trick she had not needed to learn in the town,
and answered him sharply.
“If you’ve followed me here because you think that I’m likely to take
any interest in you, Mr. Inman, the sooner you’re undeceived the better
for us both. And if it’s you that’s got a job at our shop let me tell
you straight that it goes against you, and I’ve only to let Mr. Briggs
know what you’re after for you to be sent about your business.”
Inman laughed. “And what worse should I be then than I am now? I should
have had ten minutes with my heart’s delight, and that’s worth a month
of dreams. And why shouldn’t your guardian know that I’m after a wife?
Other men before me have hunted that quarry and not been burned at the
stake for it. If I hunt fair what harm is there in it? But perhaps you
think he’ll be vexed to find that Jagger Drake has a competitor.”
Nancy’s cheeks grew red with anger, but even as hot words rose to her
tongue her judgment cooled them, and her thoughts ran on ahead and
reviewed the situation. Baldwin and Jagger were at enmity; and though a
word in the older man’s ear might start the fires of his wrath against
the newcomer, they were not likely to burn the more fiercely at the
knowledge that this young man was Jagger’s rival for her affections. The
effect might be quite opposite, for the large contempt in which Baldwin
held the Drakes, both father and son, might lead him to favour another
suitor.
Nancy had remained standing and she held Inman by a haughty stare whilst
these thoughts crossed her mind at telegraphic speed.
“You don’t leave your meaning to be guessed at, anyway,” she said in her
most freezing tones; “but a woman isn’t like a hare; she can choose who
she lets hunt her, and I don’t choose to be hunted by you. Those are
plain words, Mr. Inman, and I hope you appreciate them.”
“I do,” he replied. “I’m a moorman and you’re a moorwoman. Moor-folk
don’t go by round-about ways when there’s a straight cut. I tell you as
I told you before that I love you and would make you my wife. ‘Not like
a hare!’ Of course you aren’t. I want no woman for a wife who’s like a
hare. An oily towns-man would have turned the tables on you and crooned
out that he was hunting a ‘dear’; but I don’t deal in soft nothings.
Maybe Jagger Drake does; I heard him this afternoon when he whined like
a whipped dog, and I took his measure. If you marry him you’ll have a
baby in your arms to start with——”
“I’ve listened to you long enough,” Nancy broke in at this point with
increased hauteur. “Who’s been coupling my name with Jagger Drake’s I
don’t know, but it’s no concern of either theirs or yours; and as
there’s sure to be some eyes spying on us, and I’ve no wish to have my
character taken away, as it’s likely enough it will be if I stop talking
with a strange man, the first night he’s in the village, I’ll just wish
you good-bye; and if you take my advice you’ll set off back where you
came from to-morrow morning.”
“One minute then,” he replied, as she turned away with a frown on her
face. “We mayn’t have another opportunity as good as this for
understanding one another. You call me a stranger, and you propose to
treat me as a stranger. So be it, I learn my lessons quickly, and I
shan’t worry you, you may rely on that. But I’ve buried my mother since
you saw me last, and I’ve a mind to get back to the moors. If I stop
with Mr. Briggs I can help to ginger up the business, though it’s plain
enough to see that he thinks himself God Almighty and wants no help. But
if he won’t have me, or if you think fit to put a spoke in the wheel,
I’ll just start for myself and maybe get our young friend Jagger to help
me. Soft as he is there are sure to be some old women who’ll fancy him
for their work, and I’ll bet between us we can make things hum.
Whichever way I go, your road’ll cross mine, Miss Nancy, and we’ll go on
arm in arm before the end; but it shall be of your own free will, I
promise you that!”
She was staring him in the face with curling lip; but the effort to keep
back hot, indignant words and to hide their nearness from him almost
choked her; and all the time she was conscious of an icy feeling at her
heart. He was meeting her glance with a smile of quiet assurance; and
when she said—“We are just strangers, Mr. Inman. I shall not interfere
with Mr. Briggs’ business arrangements, so you may be easy on that
point. All I want is to be left alone!” he merely nodded, and raising
his hat, wished her good-night.