George Manville Fenn

“ I am innocent, Sir Thomas. Pray, Sir Thomas, don’t let him. A poor weak widow woman. Pray, pray don’t.”
“An anointed witch thou art,” said the justice, pompously. “Away with her.”
“Nay, nay, Sir Thomas,” cried the founder. “She is no witch; only a silly, half-mad creature.”
“Yes, that he right,” cried Mother Goodhugh, clinging frantically to one of the doorposts, “mad—mad with trouble, good Sir Thomas.”
“Nay, woman, thy witchcrafts have stunk in my nostrils this many a day, and there is a long list of crimes for thee to expiate at the stake.” ”

“ In the old garden the flowers drooped their heads in the heat which quivered over the grassy meads, while the forest-trees were silent in the glowing sunshine. No leaf moved, no zephyr played in the dark shades, but lizard and glistening beetle darted here and there, where the sandstone peered out amidst the heaths and ferns.
Mace suffered herself to be led by her father from the cottage they had made their home; but she heeded not the faces at the window and door, nor heard the pitying words spoken concerning her by the workpeople who had eaten her father’s bread for years. ”

“ If I were guilty, Mace, should I be here?”
“No,” she said softly, as her hand stole down, white and soft, amongst the roses, to be seized and held to his breast. “But tell me, Gil, with your own lips, that you are innocent; that this charge is not true, and I will believe you.”
“Mace, child, so help me—”
“Stop,” she whispered, hastily; “the man who loves me needs no oaths. Tell me on your word, Gil, as a gentleman, that you are guiltless, and I will believe.” ”

“ A scornful roar of laughter was the response; and, as the heavy guns of the period were levelled, Gil’s men, lithe and active as wild cats, leaped at their bearers with their swords, dashing the guns up, so that the scattered volley that followed sent the bullets skyward, while man after man was knocked down by a blow or the recoil of the piece.
Then commenced a furious fight; sword clashed with sword; there were groans, oaths, and cries; and, as Mace’s casement was opened, its occupant gazed down, shuddering at the hideous, torch-lit scene in the trampled garden. ”

“ Another year slipped by and Gil’s ship had made a couple more voyages with Wat Kilby at the helm, for Culverin Carr had stayed at home, the helper and adviser of Jeremiah Cobbe. The Pool-house had risen again from its ashes, stone for stone, beam for beam, in spite of the bitter curse fulminated against those who should restore it. The aspect of age could not be given to the place, but it was a labour of love on the founder’s part to consult with Gil how they should get that clump of roses, that high cluster of clematis, and those bright flowers to grow beneath the window as of old. ”

“ Anne Beckley’s heart beat fast as the procession came nearer and nearer, and she crouched down trembling as she fancied that Mother Goodhugh must see her; while the cold dew stood upon her brow as she waited for the curses the old woman would fling upon her head.
But there was no curse hurled at her; there was the trampling of feet, and the buzz of many voices, beating hoofs, and grinding wheels coming nearer and nearer, till all appeared to stay close by, and Anne’s heart seemed to stop its pulse as well. ”

“ Mother Goodhugh was the first to break the silence, as, crawling towards the place on hands and knees, she crouched at last at Mace’s feet, and lay there, panting.
“She has come from the dead to fetch me,” moaned the old woman, whose reason seemed to wander. “I know her. See how white, and cold, and strange she is. My child, my child, I killed thee, I killed thee; and now—now—have pity on me! have pity! I be not a witch.” ”

“ The sun had descended beyond the hills, turning the far west into one blaze of mellow golden glory; there was a faint twittering from the linnets and finches that hung about the bushes on the steep slopes and crags; and on one rugged old hawthorn, whose roots were thrust amongst the rifts and crags of the sandstone, a solitary thrush was singing his evening hymn.
As Gil watched the face of her who lay there as rigid almost as if in death, it seemed to him that the soft sweet face that looked so smooth and young, and yet so old, was not so ashy white as a short time before ”

“ Sir Mark hesitated for a few moments, and then, with the longer weapon, placed himself on guard with a good deal of the ceremony taught in the fencing-schools, while Gil quietly crossed swords with him, and the fight began.
It was a curious sight in that black-floored building, lit by the ruddy glow of the charcoal-furnace, whose illuminating powers sufficed to produce a ruddy twilight—nothing more—through which the figures of the contending men could be seen in rapid motion, as their flashing blades gritted edge against edge, and passes were rapidly exchanged. ”

“ There was a buzz in the little crowd, as the old woman came near to climb upon a heap of furnace-cinder, and stand pointing to the disroofed shed, mouthing and grinning maliciously.
“Cursed,” she cried; “cursed, all cursed. Bide and rest, all of you, and see how all I say will be fulfilled. Ha, ha, ha! How the wicked fall!”
“Nay, they don’t,” cried the founder, “or thou’d’st come down off that furnace-glass. Get thee home for a foul venom-spitting toad,” he added, angrily. “Come, Mace; come, Sir Mark, I can’t contain myself to-day if she begins to play Shimei and throw her stones.” ”

“ The pained look grew deeper in Mace’s eyes as she laid both her hands upon the broad chest of the founder, and gazed full in his eyes.
“Father, dear,” she said, simply, “why should I go to bid a foolish old woman mutter silly spells, when I know that Gil loves me with all his heart.”
“Out upon his love. As he loves Anno Beckley, and every woman he meets. Shame on thee, girl—for shame!”
She smiled sadly as she still gazed up in his face.
“You don’t mean this, father, dear,” she said. “You don’t think I should be so silly as to go to Mother Goodhugh for what you say?” ”

“ Thou tightest against thyself.”
“Nay, ’tis Mistress Mace Cobbe. Let me look.”
“Thou art right; it be thy young mistress; and see, the gallant tries to reach thee, and her hand be raised to strike, and—How strange!”
“What be it, mother?”
“The glass has grown dim, as if a black shadow had passed over it, and I can see no more. Try thou, my child.”
“Nay, nay, I dare not; it be too terrifying!” cried Janet, thrusting back the crystal.
“’Tis better not,” said the old woman. “It be dangerous at times. There, child, I can tell thee no more to-day.” ”

“ I can keep my word. I will not wed Gil, if you forbid it; but I will wed no other man.”
“Curse the day he ever entered my house, and curse the day he ever enters it again! I have given Sir Mark Leslie my word that thou shalt be his wife, and that word I’ll keep. Now, I have said it, and thou knowest what to expect. I’ve indulged and spoiled thee, till, like an ingrate, thou fliest in my face, and forgettest all thy duty. Now go and learn what duty to a husband is.”
“No, no, no!” cried Mace, casting off her angry fit, and flinging her arms round her father’s neck. ”

“ Look here,” she cried, seizing the cup, throwing out its contents, running to the spring, and returning with it full of clear fluid, “the water be bright and sweet. Nay, nay; thou shalt not touch it,” she cried, as Mace stretched out her hand to take the cup—“I will have no more of thy juggling tricks here. Out upon thee, witch—witch, who triest to win decent maidens’ lovers to thy side. When the time comes that justice overtakes thee for thy wicked enchantments, my voice shall be raised to tell of all I know. Go!—Away with thee!—Witch, witch!” ”

“ Master Peasegood,” said the founder more gently, “thou hast never been a father.”
“Had I been sweet Mace’s father could I have loved her better, Jeremiah Cobbe? Have not mine eyes oft filled with tears at the memory of her sweet face; has not my voice choked, and have not my words failed when I have tried to speak, Gil Carr? Tut, man, give me credit for loving her as well. Thou hast felt sore against me because I tried to keep you two apart; but why was it, Gil, why was it? Had I not seen that which made me think thou would’st prove a faithless lover to her, poor child. ”

“ I would not have thee do it like a woman. Then, too, Master Cobbe, when are these fires to be relit, and the wreathing curls of smoke to rise from each furnace chimney?”
“Never,” said the founder sadly, “my energy has gone, and I am spent.”
“Tut, tut, man; fie!”
“What have I to live for?” cried the founder, as angry now as Gil.
“Not for thyself,” cried Master Peasegood. “Not both of ye to indulge a moping selfish regret, but for others—for the memory of one dead. Tut! man, those do not pay most respect to their dead who sit and sigh, and groan, and work themselves into fevers. ”

“ I’ve done with him,” cried Master Peasegood, with much severity. “He’s all purgatory and absolution and curse. Ah, talk about cursing! So Mother Goodhugh has been at work again.”
“Ay, with all her might.”
“Hah! I like being cursed,” said the parson, drawing a long breath. “I’ve been cursed more than any man living, sir,” he continued, turning to Sir Mark. “Ha, ha, ha, ha! see how I flourish upon it. I like being cursed.”
“But you don’t like cursing,” said the founder.
“Nay, not at all,” said the parson. “Well, I’ll in to my draught of ale. ”

“ At last the little party was ascending one rugged side of the valley where Anne Beckley had been left to wait the coming of her lover; and after a weary climb the men all had a rest, seating themselves by the spring that gushed from the rocks where the ferns and mosses hung, and after tempering the clear fluid with spirit they began to smoke.
“Let her rest for a time,” said Gil; “there is no danger here. Poor soul! A narrow escape from death.” As he spoke he covered the wretched creature with a cloak, and placed a doubled gaberdine beneath hothead. ”

“ Give me the name of husband, Mace, my own old love. I have but moments to say it to thee. Come with me now from this window. I have half a dozen men waiting. Four shall help to guard you to our hiding-place while two go to the old iron-pits and fetch thence Father Brisdone. He shall wed us at once. Or we will away to my boat in the little river and go down to my ship, where let even the King seek thee if he dare.”
“Oh, Gil—dear Gil, I cannot!” she faltered.
“Quick,” he whispered. “Hold me tightly, sweet, for my arms are failing. Look here, Janet shall come if thou wilt.” ”

“ If it wasn’t that you love him I’d say to you let him go on in his terrifying ways, and wed her if he will. She belongs to an accursed race, and would bring him never good.”
“But she shan’t marry him!” cried Anne, with flashing eyes. “I hate her, Mother Goodhugh, and would sooner see her dead. She’s a witch. I’m sure she’s a witch.”
“And why are you sure, lovey?”
“Because—because—she bewitches men to her, and holds them by her side. I have tried, oh, so hard, but I cannot.”
“Nay, child, nay, but you can, though not so strongly; for you do it by good, while she does it by ill.” ”

“ Oh, no, brother, I have no pity for a great luce or pike; and, besides, see what they are when nicely treated, well cleaned, and stuffed, and buttered, and baked. Ha, ha, ha! we have the advantage of you there, Brother Brisdone; we can be carnal-minded, and eat, and drink, and wive if we like. But come along and let’s begin. I can sniff the water now, with its soft wreaths of mist floating around. We’ll have the boat and set our lures, and fish for a couple of hours, and then take a brace of the finest to Master Cobbe, and beg some more breakfast for our pains. ”

“ Shall we not join now in cheating and tricking some one better than the wretched village fools? I tell thee that Captain Gil is rich, and I have his secret: I have found his store.”
“And I tell thee, Abel Churr,” cried the old woman, “that thou hast always been a villain, a brute, and a coward to me. If thou knowest aught of Captain Gil’s secret, you will keep it, and share it with none. From this day I have neither truck nor trade with thee, so go thy way, and my curse go with thee. ”

“ The sea-breeze might be sweeping the hills above, but down here there would be hardly a breath of air, while Nature’s train held revel far and near. Freshly-turned sandy earth showed where the rabbits burrowed, high up in the soft bank the sandmartins had a colony, while night and morn the woodland was musical with the notes of blackbird and thrush, though the concert Gil Carr had listened to a month before was more subdued, and the nightingale kept his sweet lays till another year. ”

“ Ah, skipper, take all the women out of the world, and you may heave me overboard whenever you like!”
“Women will be thy ruin,” said Gil.
“That’s what Mas’ Peasegood says, and then he went on at me for an hour as good as to say if ever I’m damned it will be for a woman’s sake, bless her for it. Mind, here’s another hole here. Zooks, I touched a big eel with my boot.”
“But once for all,” said Gil, “I will not have thee hanging like a chicken-thief about Master Cobbe’s garden.” ”

“ A deep sigh seemed to tear itself from the founder’s breast, and he turned to gaze in the direction of his works.
“Thou art right, parson,” he said; “it is not fair that the workmen I brought here to feed and furnish with hard labour should suffer for my sake. The fires shall be lit again.”
“Ay, that’s well,” said Master Peasegood earnestly. “It will be glad news for many a heart. Then I shall see the axe busy again as the leaves fall, and the glow of the charcoal fire in the woods; and meantime thy men will delve for iron, and the furnaces go roaring on. ”

“ There could be no want of finish where Nature has worked, and here, where all harmonises to the eye, she has prepared, for the grand burst of harmony for the ear, that wondrous concert that surely begins on one particular undated morning in spring, when, as if moved by a single impulse, all bird-dom breaks forth into song—a song of praise so sweet and glorious that the heart seems to leap, ay, and does leap, back over the gulf of years, to feel as in childhood’s days, before rust, canker, and the world’s own wear had hardened it to what it is. ”

“ Ah! you cannot; for if I be punished as a witch I’ll ill-wish you; I’ll put such a spell upon you that men shall avoid you to the end of your days. You shall grow thin and old, and dry and yellow, and shall never know the joys of a pair of manly arms pressing you to a throbbing breast; you shall never taste the sweet kisses of love; and, instead of your lips pouting red and warm for more, they shall grow thin, and dry, and white, and cracked in your lonely, childless old age. I’ll curse you—I’ll—”
“No, no, Mother Goodhugh, dear Mother Goodhugh,” cried the girl, catching at her arm. ”

“ It was quite an hour later before the founder joined him, to find Tom working away with the heavy old wheelbarrow and the manure-fork.
“Hallo, Tom, you here?” said the founder, looking eastward, where the golden orange flecks told of the coming sun.
“Here? Ay, been here this hour; most emptied the mixen, and got a brave girt bed made; but who’s to work wi’ such a tool as this?” and he held up the fork.
“You, if you’ve any sense in your head,” growled the founder, who was sleepy yet.
“I’ve got some sense in my head,” said Tom Croftly; “but no man can’t work with a noo-fangled tool like that. ”

“ Too numbed and helpless even to cry out for help, they lay waiting for morning, hardly hoping to see the dawn, for at any moment a slip would have sent them into deep water, to go down at once.
Sometimes a soft wind stirred the thick steamy mist upon the water and rustled the reeds above their heads; while, at intervals through the night, the cry of some coot or duck floated weirdly across the great Pool, but, at last, all those things seemed to Gil to be part of a confused dream, as he grew, more and more numbed and helpless. ”

“ Is it a new lover, my dear?”
“I have told thee I do not want anything, mother,” cried Anne peevishly.
“Nay, then, come on to my cottage, where we can talk. Thou has not been to see me for months and months.”
“Nay, mother, I’ll come no more. Good day, I must get me home.”
“Stay, child,” cried Mother Goodhugh, clutching at her dress; “I want to talk to thee of him. Come to my place.”
“Loose me this instant, mother,” cried Mistress Anne, indignantly. “How darest thou lay thy hands on me?”
“Only because we are sisters, dearie.”
“Sisters?”
“Ay, dearie; don’t we practise the art together. ”

“ You are not the man to make my child happy, and now we understand one another. Mind, I forbid it.”
“You may forbid it, Master Cobbe,” said Gil quietly; “but I tell you frankly I cannot listen to your commands. Matters have gone too far.”
“But they shall not have gone too far,” cried the founder, flushing up, and stamping his foot with rage, “I’ll hear no more. Look ye here, Captain Gil, you’re in a passion now, so let me see no more of you for seven days. Then, perhaps, we can meet and talk calmly. ”