'Speyk for thisen, Robin--speyk for thisen; an' yet why should ta
speyk at o? Choilt as tha are--an' tha art nobbut a choilt, clivver as
tha fancies thisen--tha 'rt owd enough to mind as it's nod olus th'
grey-heeoded uns as dees th' fost. Th' chickins fo' off th' peeark
mooar oftener nor th' owd brids. Ther's monny an owd tree wi' nobbud a
twothree buds o' green abaat it, to show as it wur yung wonst, as
tha'd hev herd wark to delve up, th' roots bein' so deep i'th' graand;
an' ther's monny a rook o' young-lukkin' uns as tha met poo up as
yezzy as a hondful o' sallet. It teks leetnin' to kill th' owd oak,
but th' fost nippin' woint off th' Martch yon soon puts th' bonnie
spring posies out o' seet. If I'm growin' owd, let's hope I'm roipnin'
as weel. Tha'rt not th' fost bit of a lad as thowt heer baan to last o
th' tothers aat, an' as hed hardly toime to finish his crowin' afoor
th' sexton clapt o honful o' sond i' his meauth.'
This conversation brought the two beyond the gate and some distance
along the avenue, in which the moonlight was somewhat toned by the
thickness of the foliage above, and they were rapidly nearing the
lodge gates, when suddenly the solemn sound of a deep-toned bell
broke the silence. Both men stopped and listened intently.
'That's th' passin'-bell,'{9} said Adam. 'Wodever con be up? I never
knew it rung at this toime o'th' neet afooar.'
'Mek less racket, will ta,' said Robin. 'Led's keep count an' see heaw
owd it is.'
Whilst the bell chimed six-and-twenty both listeners stood almost
breathless, and then Adam said:--
'He's thy age, Robin, chuz who he is.'
'Ther wer no leet i 'th' belfry as wi come by, as I see on,' said the
young man, 'I'd rayther be i' bed nor up theer towlin' ad this toime,
wudn't tha?'
'Yoi,' said Adam. 'But owd Jemmy dusn't care, an' why should he? Hee's
bin amung th' deeod to' long to be freet'nt on 'em neet or day, wake
an' fable as he is. I dar' say hee's fun aat afoor neaw as they'r not
varra rough to dale wi'. Ther's nod mich feightin i'th' bury-hoyle,
beaut ids wi' th' resurrectioners. Bud led's get to'art whoam, lad;
we're loikely enough to larn o abaat it to-morn.'
Without more words they approached the lodge, but to their great
terror, when they were within a few yards from the little dwelling,
the gates noiselessly swung open, the doleful tolling of the
passing-bell being the only sound to be heard. Both men stepped back
affrighted as a little figure clad in raiment of a dark hue, but
wearing a bright red cap, and chanting some mysterious words in a low
musical voice as he walked, stepped into the avenue.
'Ston back, mon,' cried Adam, in a terrified voice--'ston back; it's
th' feeorin; bud they'll not hort tha if tha dusna meddle wi' um.'
The young man forthwith obeyed his aged companion, and standing
together against the trunk of a large tree, they gazed at the
miniature being stepping so lightly over the road, mottled by the
stray moonbeams. It was a dainty little object; but although neither
Adam nor Robin could comprehend the burden of the song it sang, the
unmistakable croon of grief with which each stave ended told the
listeners that the fairy was singing a requiem. The men kept perfectly
silent, and in a little while the figure paused and turned round, as
though in expectation, continuing, however, its mournful notes.
By-and-by the voices of other singers were distinguished, and as they
grew louder the fairy standing in the roadway ceased to render the
verse, and sang only the refrain, and a few minutes afterwards Adam
and Robin saw a marvellous cavalcade pass through the gateway. A
number of figures, closely resembling the one to which their attention
had first been drawn, walked two by two, and behind them others with
their caps in their hands, bore a little black coffin, the lid of
which was drawn down so as to leave a portion of the contents
uncovered. Behind these again others, walking in pairs, completed the
procession. All were singing in inexpressibly mournful tones, pausing
at regular intervals to allow the voice of the one in advance to be
heard, as it chanted the refrain of the song, and when the last couple
had passed into the avenue, the gates closed as noiselessly as they
had opened.
As the bearers of the burden marched past the two watchers, Adam bent
down, and, by the help of a stray gleam of moonlight, saw that there
was a little corpse in the coffin.
'Robin, mi lad,' said he, in a trembling voice and with a scared look,
'it's th' pictur o' thee as they hev i' th' coffin!'
With a gasp of terror the young man also stooped towards the
bearers, and saw clearly enough that the face of the figure borne by
the fairies indeed closely resembled his own, save that it was ghastly
with the pallor and dews of death.
The procession had passed ere he was able to speak, for, already much
affrighted by the appearance of the fairies, the sight of the little
corpse had quite unnerved him. Clinging in a terrified manner to the
old man, he said, in a broken voice--
'It raley wor me, Adam! Dust think it's a warnin', an' I'm abaat to
dee?'