Chapter 5

"Methinks thy mother was right to speak to thee as yesternight she did," saith I; "for I saw thee strive to graft a pear-tree with a branch o' th' tree o' knowledge," saith I.

"Then," saith she, hot as my forge all in a breath, and bouncing from my knee--"then thou wast an eavesdropper!" saith she.

"Even as the Lord afore me," saith I, not over-pleased at her sauciness. "And being in some sort thy Creator, and thou having set up for thyself an Eden in my garden," saith I, "who hath a greater right than I to watch over thee?" saith I.

Then she not answering me, thus did I continue:

"Why dost thou not take unto thyself an husband," quoth I, "to do both thyself and thy parents a credit?"

"Show me such an one," saith she, "and I do promise thee to wed him."

"There, then," quoth I, "is Davy Short hose, the poulterer--"

"A bangled-eared buffoon as ever lived!" quoth she; "and a fool into the bargain."

"So be it," saith I; for I was set upon keeping my temper. "What dost thou say to Beryamen Piggin, the brewer?"

"A say if ever a piggin was in sore need o' a new link, 'tis that one," saith she. "And, what's more, I'll not serve for 't," saith she.

"How, then, of Nanfan Speckle, the tanner?"

"A's as pied as a's name," quoth she, "both soul and body."

"There be Jezreel Spittlewig, the joiner."

"Methinks," quoth she, "if a'd do a little joining to a's own shackling body, a might hold together long enough to go through the marriage ceremony," saith she. "Howbeit, I'm not a-sure of 't."

"Well, then, Jack Stirthepot, the chair-mender."

"A'd have to stir th' pot with a witch ere a brewed a wedding with me," quoth she.

"What sayest to Reuben Puff, the tinker?"

"If I say so much as a word to any one o' em," cried she, snatching up the pail wherein she had brought my victuals, "may thy first grandchild be born without a tongue!" saith she. And out she went.

Then quoth I to myself, quoth I, "Lemon," quoth I, "the jade's in love with th' crack--no more, no less." And I said further, said I, "Bodykins!" said I, a-shoeing of King Edward with all my might, "by cock and pye!" said I, "an a wants him let a have him. 'Tis more than his dessert, I'll warrant," so quoth I. "And as for Dame Visor's hussy, let her learn to bridle her tongue," quoth I. And 'twas just here that wench Keren did creep up and take me about the neck, as I was a-filing of King Edward's hoof.

"Father," saith she, "I cry thee pardon if I have sauced thee; but dost not mind the rhyme thou art so fond of?--

"'Shoe the horse, and shoe the mare, But let the little colt go bare.'

Seek not to chide me, father, and ne'er will my heels bring hurt to any."

Then off was she again ere I had spat forth my mouthful o' nails to answer her.

But that evening as I came home, about the going down o' th' sun, I did hear voices i' th' kitchen, and, looking in at th' window, behold, there was that hussy Ruth a-plucking of Keren by th' kirtle, and Keren a-holding of a pan o' milk above her head, as though she had half a mind to souse her cousin in 't.

And saith she, "Get to thy feet, wench. This is neither a church, nor am I th' Lord."

But th' girl (who seemed to be in trouble o' some sort) fell a-sobbing, and saith she,

"Cousin, cousin, I know I have used thee ill, but all my joy is in him. If thou takest him from me, better didst thou take my life, for he is more to me than life."

Then quoth my lass, "Shame on thee to say it o' any man, worthy or unworthy!"

"Oh, shame enough have I, cousin!" quoth the poor wench--"shame to 'a' lost him, and shame that I should plead with another to give him back to me!"

"Go to!" saith Keren; "go to! I have not got him to give him back to thee."

"Thou hast!" saith Ruth; "thou hast!--he is thine, soul and body--soul and body! And thou dost not care; and I care--oh, I care so that I know not how to word it!"

(Every word that passed between 'em is as clear in my mind as though 'twere but yesterday it all happened.)

"I say shame on thee to say so," saith my lass again.

But the wench still hung about her, and would not let go, and she saith,

"Oh, cousin, cousin, cousin, doth it not show thee in what straits I am, that I come to thee for succor? Rather had I died, one week agone, than ask thee for thy hand though I were drowning. And sure 'tis less than thy hand for which I ask thee now, sith it be for a man who is less to thee than the littlest finger on that hand, but who is more to me than the heart in my wretched body! And a had vowed to wed me; and 'twas next month we were to be wed; and all so happy--my father and my mother so pleased, and his folks do like me well; and my wedding-gown all sewn and lain away, and the ribbons for my shoes, and some kickshaws for th' new house; and all we so glad, and all going so smooth, and we twain so loving; for, oh, he did love me the once! he did love me the once! And now--now--now--" And here did she fall a-weeping in such wise that never another word could she say. And she sate down on the kitchen floor, and hid all her pretty head (for pretty 'twas, though I liked her not)--hid it all in the skirt o' her kirtle.

Then stood my lass quite still, and her face like the milk in her pan, and she looks down on th' hussy, as a horse might look down on a kitten which it hath unwitting trampled on, and she saith,

"I would I knew whether or no thou speakest the truth!"

Then saith the wench, a-reaching up her clasped hands to heaven--saith she, "May God forever curse me an I do not!"

"Take not God's name in vain," saith my lass, sharply, and went and set down her pan o' milk on the cupboard. And again she stands, slowly wiping her hands on her apron, and looking down at th' girl, who hath once more covered all her face in her petticoat; and by-and-by she saith to her,

"What is 't thou wouldst have me do?"

"Give me back my Robin! give me back my Robin!" saith the maid.

"Thou art welcome to him for me," saith Keren.

Then fell the maid a-weeping more bitterly than ever, and she huddled herself on the hard floor, like a young bird that hath fallen out o' its nest, and sobbed piteously. And presently gets she to her feet without a word, still a-hiding of her face in her kirtle, and turns to go, a-feeling her way with one o' her little hands. But when she hath reached th' door, and hath got one foot on the threshold, up strides that lass o' mine, and, taking her by the arm, swings her back into th' room; and she makes her sit down on a settle and take down her kirtle from her face. And while she is snooding up her ruffled locks, she saith unto her,

"Thou art a little fool to cry so; dost hear? What! at it again? Well, well, God patience me! What's a body to do with such a little ninny? There! dry your eyes. Ye shall have your Robin, never fear. God-a-mercy! at what art blubbering now?" But down slipped Ruth on her knees, and caught Keren about hers, and she saith unto her,

"Heaven bless thee! thou art a good woman! May Heaven forgive me for all such words as e'er I have said against thee! Bless thee! bless thee!"

"Bodykins!" saith my lass (having learned some round oaths from me, I do grieve to say)--"bodykins!" saith she, "wilt a-hear th' lass? I say scamper, scamper; my father'll be coming home to sup erelong, and I would not he found thee thus. Away with thee! and fret no more: dost hear? If I hear that thou hast moped any further from this hour on, I'll not answer either for my doings or for those o' others: dost hear? Now scamper!" And scamper a did, like a hare with th' hounds upon 't.

So full was I o' praising my lass on her good 'havior that I had got me from th' lattice and was half in at the door ere I saw what had befallen.

There was my madcap comrade, down on her knees afore the settle, wi' both hands gripped in her thick locks, and her head bent forward on th' wooden seat; and she made no sound, neither uttered she any word, but a shook like water when a heavy weight rolls past. And a drew long breaths ever and anon, like one that hath been half drowned and is coming back to life. And I knew then, I knew then, comrade. I had thought a loved th' boy; and I knew then. So I got me out, without making any clatter, and I sat me down on a bench outside th' kitchen door to think 't over; and, by cock and pye, man, ne'er a thought could I think for th' tears in my eyes. Th' poor lass! th' poor lass! It fetches th' salt into my een now to think on 't. Well, well, what's past is past, and God himself cannot undo 't; and what's coming's coming, and God wunnot hinder it an he could; so there's an end on 't. Fill up, man, fill up! What there, I say! Joel, I say! A quart o' sack for Master Turnip.

Well, when I had thought it well o'er, I did determine to say naught to th' lass whatsoever; neither did I; but meseems I was bound to o'erhear heart-breaking words atween somebody, for th' very next day, as I was henting th' style as leads into th' lane (thou knowest the lane I mean, comrade: 't lies atween Cowslip Meadow and th' pool i' th' hollow--Sweethearts' Way, they call 't)--well, as I was getting o'er th' style--as I had just got me o'er by one leg, after this fashion, ye mind; as though this chair here were th' style, and yonder chimney-place th' lane--Sweethearts' Way, ye mind--well, as I was half over, and Mumble, th' turnspit pup, half under, as 'twere, I heard voices--voices, comrade--one o' them th' voice o' that lass o' mine, and t'other th' voice o' young Hacket.

"Here be a coil," say I. "What's to do?"

Now the pup seemed to be filled with the spirit o' th' Lord all on a sudden, after th' fashion o' th' talking jackass i' th' Scriptures; for if a didna talk a did th' next thing to 't--a tried to. And after pulling at my heels like as though a fiend had got him, a scuttles into th' thicket, for no cause, as I could see, but to give me th' benefit o' example. So in goes I after him. Scarce was I settled, with a bramble down th' back o' my neck, and some honey-bees at work too nigh to my legs for my peace o' mind, when they come, and both a-chattering at th' same time like two magpies with slit tongues.

"Thou didst!" quoth he. "That did I not!" quoth she. "Thou didst, and I can prove 't on thee!" quoth he, louder than afore. "I tell thee I did not, and thou canst sooner prove that Bidford Mill turns the Avon than that I did!" quoth she. "Wilt thou stand there and tell me i' th' eyes that thou hast so oft looked love into," quoth he, like a man choked with spleen--"I say, wilt thou, Keren Lemon, stand there and face me, Robert Hacket, and say thou hast ne'er given me reason to believe that thou didst love me?" quoth he. "No more cause than I've given to twenty better than thee!" quoth she. "Shame on thee to say 't, thou bold-faced jig!" saith he; "shame on thee, I say! and so will say all honest folk when I tell 'em o' 't." "An thou tell it, the more fool thou," saith she; and a draws up her red lips into a circle as though a'd had a drawstring in 'em, and a stands and looks at him as a used to stand and look at her dam when she chid her for a romp. Then all on a sudden, with such a nimbleness as took away my breath and drove all thoughts o' brambles and honey-bees clean out o' my pate, he jumps aside o' her, and gets her about th' middle, as he did that day under th' pear-tree, and quoth he, "Lass," quoth he, "dunnot break my heart! dunnot break th' heart that loves ye more than a' that's in the earth, or th' heavens above, or th' waters below! Say ye love me, and ha' done with 't."

Then gives she up herself to him for one beat o' her own breaking heart, the poor madcap, and she leans on him with all her pretty self, as though begging him to take her against her own will, and then a cry breaks from her, half human, and half like th' cry o' a hurt beast, and she saith,

"Shame on ye, shame on ye, to forsake th' lass ye ha' sworn to wed! Get thee back to her straightway, or ne'er look me i' th' face again!" And she leaps back from him, and points with her arm--as stiff and steady as th' tail o' a sportsman's dog--towards th' village, and she saith again, "Get thee back to her; get thee back to Ruth Visor, and wed with her ere this month be out o' the year!"

Then lifts he his sullen head, and looks at her from under his brows like a smitten blood-hound. And he saith back o' his clamped teeth, like as 'twere a dog gnarling in his throat, "curse ye for a false jade!" saith he; "Curse ye for as black-hearted a jade as e'er set an honest man on th' road to hell!" And he turned, and cleared th' style with one hand on 't, and went his ways.

And th' lass stood and looked after him as still as though she were turned into a pillar o' summat, after th' manner o' th' woman i' th' holy book, and both her hands grasping her breast. But anon there comes a trouble o'er her face, like as when a little wind doth run across a gray pool at eventide, and her lips begin to tremble, like as though some red flower a-growing on th' bank was shaken by 't, and her eyes all full o' woe, like th' eyes o' some dumb thing as cannot word its sorrow; and all at once she falls upon her knees, and thence upon her forehead on the ground, and afterwards to her whole length, with her strong hands grasping th' flowers and grass on either side o' her, and tearing them up with th' crackling noise that a horse makes when 't grazes. But no sound escapes her, whether a sigh or a groan. Well, well, comrade, I cry thee patience if I do stumble here a bit: I cannot think on 't now without a tightness i' my throat, any more than a man can think o' th' day his first child was born to him without his heart leaping hot in 's throat like the flame to th' bellows. Well, well! Fill up, I say; fill up. Remember th' old days, when thou wast more ale-washed than th' bottle itself. Where be I i' th' narrative? Yea, yea, 'tis there--'tis there; I mind me o't now.

No sound 'scaped her, but presently she lifts herself up upon her knees again, with such heaviness as a horse overburdened doth get him to his feet, and she holds out both her arms i' th' direction where th' lad hath vanished, wi' th' grass and flowers yet fast in her clinched hands; and she saith twice, i' th' voice o' a woman in travail,

"Never will he know, never will he know," she saith; and then, "Oh, God!" she saith, a-lifting her hands again to her breast. "Summat's broke here," she saith, full meek, like a body that's looked a many time on pain--"summat's broke, summat's broke," o'er and o'er again, as though she would use herself to th' sound, as 'twere. Then all at once did a deep cry break from her. "God, O God," she saith, "show me how to bear 't! My God, my God, show me how to bear 't." And she got to her feet, and sped down th' lane like one blind, running first into th' hawthorn bushes o' this side, then into th' quickset hedge o' th' other, and tearing out her loosened tresses on th' low-hanging branches o' th' pear-trees, so that I traced her by her hair i' th' twigs, like as thou wouldst trace any poor lost lamb by its wool on the brambles. Now, it did almost break my own heart to say naught to her concerning all o't, but I knew that 'twould but grieve without comforting her; and rather would I 'a' had my old heart split in twain than bring one more ache into her true breast. So naught say I. Never a word, comrade, from then till now have I e'er said to her about that time.

Well, for all 's fine talk, Master Hacket went no more to hell than do any other men that marry--an' less than some, seeing as how a did not marry a scold, which (God forgive me, or her, or both o' us) I have done. Yea, comrade, I will commemorate this our first meeting in eight years by confessing to thee that my wife (in thy ear, comrade)--that my wife was a scold. Sometimes I do verily think as how women like Mistress Lemon be sent unto men to keep 'em from pondering too heavily concerning the absence o' marriage in heaven. By cock and pye, man, as I live, I do honestly believe that I would rather be a bachelor in hell, than the husband o' Mistress Lemon in heaven!

But to come back to th' lass. And, now that I think o' th' lass, comrade, I am not so sure that a scolding wife is not well paid for by a duteous daughter. Nay, I am sure o't. Methinks I would 'a' been wed twice, and each time to a shrew, could I but 'a' had my Keren o' one o' 'em. Ay, even so, even so.

Well, as I said--or as I meant to say--Master Hacket wedded th' Visor hussy within two weeks o' th' day whereon he and my Keren had 't so fierce i' Sweethearts' Way. And therein are two meanings: they fell out, as is the way with sweethearts, and they fell out i' th' lane so called.

Well, well, let me crack a quart o' sack with thee, comrade, and a joke at th' same time.

A married Ruth Visor, and they went to Lunnon Town. And on th' night o' their wedding, as I sat by the fireside i' th' kitchen a-mending my tools (for 'twas on a Saturday night), and Keren abed, and Mistress Lemon a-peeling o' leather-jackets to make th' Sunday pie,

"Wife," saith I to her (a-mending my tools, as I ha' said), "wife," quoth I, "would 'twere our lass were wed to-day!"

"For why?" saith she. No more, no less.

"For why?" saith I. "For the why I think a lass is happier wed to th' man she loves," saith I.

"'Tis not so I've found it," quoth she, a-peeling of an apple so that thou couldst 'a' put his whole coat back and not 'a' known 't had e'er come off.

Then quoth I, a-chuckling in my throat at having so snared her, "Right glad am I to find out that thou lovest me!" quoth I.

"If thou'st found out that," quoth she, "thou'rt greater than Columbus," quoth she, "for thou'st discovered something that never was," quoth she.

"Bodykins, woman!" saith I, a-losing of my temper--"then for what didst thou marry me?"

"For a fool," quoth she. "And I will say as I ha' got the full o' my bargain," quoth she.

Whereat so wroth was I that I said naught, knowing that if I did open my lips or move my hand 'twould be to curse her with th' one and cuff her with t'other.

By-and-by saith she, "And where, by'r lay'kin, wilt thou find a man good enough in thy eyes for th' lass?" saith she.

"Not on earth," quoth I. "Neither in this land nor that other across the sea," quoth I.

"Ay, ay," quoth she. "Very like thou wouldst have th' wench to wed with an angel," quoth she; "to have all thy grandchildren roosting on a gold bar, and their dad a-teaching of 'em how to use their wings," quoth she. "Or with one o' th' red men i' th' new country, to have them piebald red and white, like a cock-horse at Banbury Cross," quoth she. And with that up she gets, and flings the apple-parings into th' fire, and gets her to bed without more ado. Whereupon day doth again find me i' this very tavern.

Well, well, a year had passed, and things were jogging very peaceful like, and Keren settled down as quiet as a plough-broken mare, when one day as I sit i' th' kitchen, while th' lass mends my apron, there comes a fumbling at th' latch like as though a child made shift to open it. Then quoth I, "Belike 'tis little Marjory Pebble, or one o' the Mouldy lads over th' way;" for the babes all loved Keren, and, now that she was waxed so quiet, th' lads left her more to herself, and she would sit on th' bench by the cottage door and make little kickshaws by th' hour--elder-wood whistles, and dolls o' forked radishes, and what not. So quoth I, "Belike 'tis little Marjory Pebble," quoth I, and th' lass having her lap full o' my apron, I went and opened th' door. And there, comrade, a-kneeling in th' grass outside, with her head all hid in her kirtle, as she had kneeled two years agone on t'other side o' that very door, was Mistress Ruth Hacket; and she was a-sobbing as though her heart would break. And while I stand staring, ere I could find a word to my tongue, comes that lass o' mine and pushes me aside like as though I had been little Marjory Pebble--ha! ha! And down goes she on her knees beside th' lass, and gets an arm about her, and presses down her head, all hid as 'tis in her kirtle, against her breast, and she saith to her,

"What troubles thee? Tell Keren, honey. So so! What troubles thee? Tell Keren."

And from beneath her kirtle th' poor jade sobs out, "He's gone! he's gone! he's gone! They've taken him to work on th' big seas--and our child not yet born--and me so ailing; and, oh! I want to die! I want to die!"

Then saith that lass o' mine, saith she, "Father, do thou fetch some o' th' birch wine out o' th' cupboard and bring it to me in a cup;" and to the girl she saith, "Come, then; come, then," like as though she had been coaxing some little spring lambkin to follow her unto its dam; and she half pulls and half carries th' wench into th' house, and seats her on a low stool i' th' chimney-corner, and kneels down aside of her. And when I be come with th' drink, she takes the cup out o' my hand, and makes th' wench drink 't, holding it to her lips with one hand, while with the other she cossets her hair and cheek. And, by-and-by, seeing myself forgotten, I do withdraw into the room beyond, and wait till I be called, that th' lasses may have 't out together.

Now, Ruth's folks were aye so poor that scarce could they keep clothes on their backs and food i' their bellies; and it hath some time occurred to me how that the Lord might 'a' given such as could not provide for themselves a coat o' wool or o' hair that would 'a' covered their bodies, after the manner of a sheep or goat--the righteous being clad i' th' first fashion, and the wicked after th' last.

Well, well, I must on. I see thou art waxing restless, comrade. Not so? Well, drink, drink, then, that I may feel thou art well occupied while that my old tongue wags.

So poor, then, were Ruth's folks that I said to myself, said I, "What i' th' name o' pity," so saith I--"what i' th' name o' pity is to become o' the poor lass?" But I had scarce asked myself th' question when my lass answers it for me.

"Father," saith she, a-coming and standing afore me, with the empty cup turning on her long fingers--"father," saith she, keeping those gold-colored eyes o' hers on mine (methinks they were coined o' th' same wedge as her heart o' gold)--"father," saith she, just so, "considering all things," saith she, "I'm going to keep th' lass in my room till her child be born," so saith she.

Then saith I, pulling her down into my arms, "Lass," saith I, "verily do I believe that not only is every hair o' thy sweet head numbered, but that each one is blessed with a separate blessing!" And what with my love for her, and my admiring of her goodness, and my pride in her, and what with her pity for the poor girl in th' other room, we did shed enough tears between us to ha' o'erflowed th' empty cup in her hands.

So she held me about th' neck with both arms, and like to ha' run me mad with kissing th' back o' my neck (for I was e'er one o' your ticklish sort). I stood it bravely, however, seeing how she loved me, and kissed her too whensoever I could get a chance for th' tightness o' her hugging. And so we settled it. But Mistress Lemon was yet to be consulted.

Ready enough was I to shift that job on my lass's broad shoulders (seeing as how a reputation for courage with his wife is ne'er believed o' a man, at any rate, and as how th' wench had a way o' managing her mother which sure none could 'a' had that were not of her own flesh). And that night, when her mother was returned from a round o' gossiping, th' lass tells her all (having i' th' mean time put Ruth to bed atween her own sheets). Well, ne'er saw I my wife in such a rage.

"What!" saith she, "thou hast ta'en it on thyself to offer my bread and meat to a good-for-naught hussy as ne'er had a civil word for any o' us! Thou hast given her bed-room under my roof without so much as 'by your leave!' Thou godless hussy, thou! Where be th' jade? I say, where be she? Where be she?"