MASTER WITHYPOOL
At first I was much inclined to run for help, or at least for counsel,
either to Lord Castlewood or to Major Hockin; but further consideration
kept me from doing any thing of the kind. In the first place, neither
of them would do much good; for my cousin's ill health would prevent him
from helping me, even if his strange view of the case did not, while
the excellent Major was much too hot and hasty for a delicate task like
this. And, again, I might lose the most valuable and important of all
chances by being away from the spot just now. And so I remained at
Shoxford for a while, keeping strict watch upon the stranger's haunt,
and asking about him by means of Mrs. Busk.
“I have heard more about him, miss,” she said one day, when the down
letters had been dispatched, which happened about middle-day. “He has
been here only those three times this summer, upon excuse of fishing
always. He stays at old Wellham, about five miles down the river, where
the people are not true Moonites. And one thing that puzzles them is,
that although he puts up there simply for the angling, he always chooses
times when the water is so low that to catch fish is next to impossible.
He left his fishing quarters upon the very day after you saw him
searching so; and he spoke as if he did not mean to come again this
season. And they say that they don't want him neither, he is such a
morose, close-fisted man; and drinking nothing but water, there is very
little profit with him.”
“And did you find out what his name is? How cleverly you have managed!”
“He passes by the name of 'Captain Brown;' but the landlord of his inn,
who has been an old soldier, is sure he was never in the army, nor
any other branch of the service. He thinks that he lives by inventing
things, for he is always at some experiments, and one of his great
points is to make a lamp that will burn and move about under water. To
be sure you see the object of that, miss?”
“No, really, Mrs. Busk, I can not. I have not your penetration.”
“Why, of course, to find what he can not find upon land. There is
something of great importance there, either for its value or its
meaning. Have you ever been told that your poor grandfather wore any
diamonds or precious jewels?”
“No. I have asked about that most especially. He had nothing about him
to tempt a robber. He was a very strong-willed man, and he hated outward
trumpery.”
“Then it must be something that this man himself has dropped, unless it
were a document, or any other token, missing from his lordship. And few
things of that sort would last for twenty years almost.”
“Nineteen years the day after to-morrow,” I answered, with a glance at
my pocket-book. “I determined to be here on that very day. No doubt I
am very superstitious. But one thing I can not understand is this--what
reason can there have been for his letting so many years pass, and then
hunting like this?”
“No one can answer that question, miss, without knowing more than we
know. But many reasons might be supposed. He might have been roving
abroad, for instance, just as you and your father have been. Or he might
not have known that the thing was there; or it might not have been of
importance till lately; or he might have been afraid, until something
else happened. Does he know that you are now in England?”
“How can I possibly tell, Mrs. Busk? He seems to know a great deal
too much. He found me out when I was at Colonel Gundry's. At least I
conclude so, from what I know now; but I hope he does not know”--and at
such a dreadful idea I shuddered.
“I am almost sure that he can not know it,” the good postmistress
answered, “or he would have found means to put an end to you. That would
have been his first object.”
“But, Mrs. Busk,” I said, being much disturbed by her calmness, “surely,
surely he is not to be allowed to make an end of every one! I came to
this country with the full intention of going into every thing. But
I did not mean at all, except in my very best moments, to sacrifice
myself. It seems too bad--too bad to think of.”
“So it is, Miss Erema,” Mrs. Busk replied, without any congenial
excitement. “It does seem hard for them that have the liability on them.
But still, miss, you have always shown such a high sense of duty, and of
what you were about--”
“I can't--I can not. There are times, I do assure you, when I am fit for
nothing, Mrs. Busk, and wish myself back in America. And if this man is
to have it all his own way--”
“Not he, miss--not he. Be you in no hurry. Could he even have his way
with our old miller? No; Master Withypool was too many for him.”
“That is a new thing. You never told me that. What did he try to do with
the miller?”
“I don't justly know what it was, Miss Erema. I never spoke to miller
about it, and, indeed, I have had no time since I heard of it. But those
that told me said that the tall strange gentleman was terribly put out,
and left the gate with a black cloud upon his face, and the very next
day the miller's daughter died, quite sudden and mysterious.”
“How very strange! But now I have got a new idea. Has the miller a
strong high dam to his pond, and a good stout sluice-gate at the end!”
“Yes, miss, to be sure he has,” said Mrs. Busk; “otherwise how could he
grind at all, when the river is so low as it is sometimes?”
“Then I know what he wanted, and I will take a leaf out of his own
book--the miscreant! He wanted the miller to stop back the water and
leave the pool dry at the 'Murder-bridge.' Would it be possible for him
to do that?”
“I can not tell you, miss; but your thought is very clever. It is likely
enough that he did want that, though he never would dare to ask without
some pretense--some other cause I mean, to show for it. He may have been
thinking that whatever he was wanting was likely to be under water. And
that shows another thing, if it is so.”
“Mrs. Busk, my head goes round with such a host of complications. I do
my best to think them out--and then there comes another!”
“No, miss; this only clears things up a little. If the man can not be
sure whether what he is looking for is on land or under water, it seems
to me almost to show that it was lost at the murder time in the dark
and flurry. A man would know if he dropped any thing in the water by
daylight, from the splash and the ripple, and so on, for the stream is
quite slow at that corner. He dropped it, miss, when he did the deed, or
else it came away from his lordship.”
“Nothing was lost, as I said before, from the body of my grandfather,
so far at least as our knowledge goes. Whatever was lost was the
murderer's. Now please to tell me all about the miller, and how I may
get round him.”
“You make me laugh in the middle of black things, miss, by the way
you have of putting them. But as to the miller--Master Withypool is a
wonder, as concerns the ladies. He is one of those men that stand up for
every thing when a man tries upper side of them. But let a woman come,
and get up under, and there he is--a pie crust lifted. Why, I, at my
age, could get round him, as you call it. But you, miss--and more than
that, you are something like his daughter; and the old man frets after
her terrible. Go you into his yard, and just smile upon him, miss, and
if the Moon River can be stopped, he'll stop it for you.”
This seemed a very easy way to do it. But I told Mrs. Busk that I would
pay well also, for the loss of a day's work at the mill was more than
fifty smiles could make up.
But she told me, above all things, not to do that. For old Master
Withypool was of that sort that he would stand for an hour with his
hands in his pocket for a half-penny, if not justly owing from him. But
nothing more angered him than a bribe to step outside of his duty. He
had plenty of money, and was proud of it. But sooner would he lose a
day's work to do a kindness, when he was sure of having right behind it,
than take a week's profit without earning it. And very likely that was
where the dark man failed, from presuming that money would do every
thing. However, there was nothing like judging for one's self; and if
I would like to be introduced, she could do it for me with the best
effect; taking as she did a good hundred-weight of best “households”
from him every week, although not herself in the baking line, but always
keeping quartern bags, because the new baker did adulterate so.
I thought of her father, and how things work round; but that they would
do without remarks of mine. So I said nothing on that point, but asked
whether Master Withypool would require any introduction. And to this
Mrs. Busk said, “Oh dear, no!” And her throat had been a little rough
since Sunday, and the dog was chained tight, even if any dog would bite
a sweet young lady; and to her mind the miller would be more taken up
and less fit to vapor into obstacles, if I were to hit upon him all
alone, just when he came out to the bank of his cabbage garden, not
so very long after his dinner, to smoke his pipe and to see his things
a-growing.
It was time to get ready if I meant to catch him then, for he always
dined at one o'clock, and the mill was some three or four meadows up the
stream; therefore as soon as Mrs. Busk had re-assured me that she was
quite certain of my enemy's departure, I took my drawing things and set
forth to call upon Master Withypool.
Passing through the church-yard, which was my nearest way, and glancing
sadly at the “fairy ring,” I began to have some uneasiness about the
possible issue of my new scheme. Such a thing required more thinking
out than I had given to it. For instance, what reason could I give the
miller for asking so strange a thing of him? And how could the whole of
the valley be hindered from making the greatest talk about the stoppage
of their own beloved Moon, even if the Moon could be stopped without
every one of them rushing down to see it? And if it was so talked of,
would it not be certain to come to the ears of that awful man? And if
so, how long before he found me out, and sent me to rejoin my family?
These thoughts compelled me to be more discreet; and having lately
done a most honorable thing, in refusing to read that letter, I felt a
certain right to play a little trick now of a purely harmless character.
I ran back therefore to my writing-desk, and took from its secret drawer
a beautiful golden American eagle, a large coin, larger and handsomer
than any in the English coinage. Uncle Sam gave it to me on my birthday,
and I would not have taken 50 pounds for it. With this I hurried to that
bridge of fear, which I had not yet brought myself to go across; and
then, not to tell any story about it, I snipped a little hole in the
corner of my pocket, while my hand was still steady ere I had to mount
the bridge. Then pinching that hole up with a squeeze, I ran and got
upon that wicked bridge, and then let go. The heavy gold coin fell upon
the rotten plank, and happily rolled into the water, as if it were glad
not to tempt its makers to any more sin for the sake of it.
Shutting up thought, for fear of despising myself for the coinage of
such a little trick, I hurried across the long meadow to the mill, and
went through the cow-gate into the yard, and the dog began to bark at
me. Seeing that he had a strong chain on, I regarded him with lofty
indignation. “Do you know what Jowler would do to you?” I said; “Jowler,
a dog worth ten of you. He would take you by the neck and drop you into
that pond for daring to insult his mistress!” The dog appeared to feel
the force of my remarks, for he lay down again, and with one eye watched
me in a manner amusing, but insidious. Then, taking good care to keep
out of his reach, I went to the mill-pond and examined it.
It looked like a very nice pond indeed, long, and large, and well banked
up, not made into any particular shape, but producing little rushy
elbows. The water was now rather low, and very bright (though the Moon
itself is not a crystal stream), and a school of young minnows, just
watching a water-spider with desirous awe, at sight of me broke away,
and reunited, with a speed and precision that might shame the whole of
our very best modern fighting. Then many other things made a dart away,
and furrowed the shadow of the willows, till distance quieted the fear
of man--that most mysterious thing in nature--and the shallow pool was
at peace again, and bright with unruffled reflections.
“What ails the dog?” said a deep gruff voice; and the poor dog received
a contemptuous push, not enough to hurt him, but to wound his feelings
for doing his primary duty. “Servant, miss. What can I do for you?
Foot-path is t'other side of that there hedge.”
“Yes, but I left the foot-path on purpose. I came to have a talk with
you, if you will allow me.”
“Sartain! sartain,” the miller replied, lifting a broad floury hat and
showing a large gray head. “Will you come into house, miss, or into
gearden?”
I chose the garden, and he led the way, and set me down upon an old oak
bench, where the tinkle of the water through the flood-gates could be
heard.
“So you be come to paint the mill at last,” he said. “Many a time I've
looked out for you. The young leddy down to Mother Busk's, of course.
Many's the time we've longed for you to come, you reminds us so of
somebody. Why, my old missus can't set eyes on you in church, miss,
without being forced to sit down a'most. But we thought it very pretty
of you not to come, miss, while the trouble was so new upon us.”
Something in my look or voice made the old man often turn away, while
I told him that I would make the very best drawing of his mill that I
could manage, and would beg him to accept it.
“Her ought to 'a been on the plank,” he said, with trouble in getting
his words out. “But there! what good? Her never will stand on that plank
no more. No, nor any other plank.”
I told him that I would put her on the plank, if he had any portrait of
her showing her dress and her attitude. Without saying what he had, he
led me to the house, and stood behind me, while I went inside. And then
he could not keep his voice as I went from one picture of his darling to
another, not thinking (as I should have done) of what his feelings might
be, but trying, as no two were at all alike, to extract a general idea
of her.
“Nobody knows what her were to me,” the old man said, with a quiet
little noise and a sniff behind my shoulder. “And with one day's illness
her died--her died.”
“But you have others left. She was not the only one. Please, Mr.
Withypool, to try to think of that. And your dear wife still alive
to share your trouble. Just think for a moment of what happened to my
father. His wife and six children all swept off in a month--and I just
born, to be brought up with a bottle!”
I never meant, of course, to have said a word of this, but was carried
away by that common old idea of consoling great sorrow with a greater
one. And the sense of my imprudence broke vexatiously upon me when the
old man came and stood between me and his daughter's portraits.
“Well, I never!” he exclaimed, with his bright eyes steadfast with
amazement. “I know you now, miss. Now I knows you. To think what a set
of blind newts us must be! And you the very moral of your poor father,
in a female kind of way! To be sure, how well I knew the Captain! A
nicer man never walked the earth, neither a more unlucky one.”
“I beg you--let me beg you,” I began to say; “since you have found me
out like this--”
“Hush, miss, hush! Not my own wife shall know, unless your own tongue
telleth her. A proud man I shall be, Miss Raumur,” he continued, with
emphasis on my local name, “if aught can be found in my power to serve
you. Why, Lord bless you, miss,” he whispered, looking round, “your
father and I has spent hours together! He were that pleasant in his ways
and words, he would drop in from his fishing, when the water was too
low, and sit on that very same bench where you sat, and smoke his pipe
with me, and tell me about battles, and ask me about bread. And many a
time I have slipped up the gate, to give him more water for his flies
to play, and the fish not to see him so plainly. Ah, we have had many
pleasant spells together; and his eldest boy and girl, Master George and
Miss Henrietta, used to come and fetch our eggs. My Polly there was in
love with him, we said; she sat upon his lap so, when she were two years
old, and played with his beautiful hair, and blubbered--oh, she did
blubber, when the Captain went away!”
This invested Polly with new interest for me, and made me determine to
spare no pains in putting her pretty figure well upon the plank. Then
I said to the miller, “How kind of you to draw up your sluice-gates to
oblige my father! Now will you put them down and keep them down, to do a
great service both to him and me?”
Without a moment's hesitation, he promised that any thing he could do
should be done, if I would only tell him what I wanted. But perhaps it
would be better to have our talk outside. Taking this hint, I followed
him back to the bench in the open garden, and there explained what I
wished to have done, and no longer concealed the true reason. The good
miller answered that with all his heart he would do that much to oblige
me, and a hundred times more than that; but some little thought and care
were needful. With the river so low as it was now, he could easily stop
the back-water, and receive the whole of the current in his dam, and
keep it from flowing down his wheel trough, and thus dry the lower
channel for perhaps half an hour, which would be ample for my purpose.
Engineering difficulties there were none; but two or three other things
must be heeded. Miller Sims, a mile or so down river, must be settled
with, to fill his dam well, and begin to discharge, when the upper water
failed, so as not to dry the Moon all down the valley, which would
have caused a commotion. Miller Sims being own brother-in-law to Master
Withypool, that could be arranged easily enough, after one day's notice.
But a harder thing to manage would be to do the business without rousing
curiosity, and setting abroad a rumor which would be sure to reach my
enemy. And the hardest thing of all, said Master Withypool, smiling as
he thought of what himself had once been, would be to keep those blessed
boys away, who find out every thing, and go every where. Not a boy
of Shoxford but would be in the river, or dancing upon its empty bed,
screeching and scolloping up into his cap any poor bewildered trout
chased into the puddles, if it were allowed to leak out, however feebly,
that the Moon water was to stop running. And then how was I to seek for
any thing?
This was a puzzle. But, with counsel, we did solve it. And we quietly
stopped the Moon, without man or boy being much the wiser.