On the first day, after Beckenham had left the party, and the coach had settled down to a steady pace, the sense of slowness had been intolerable to the girl. Her fear and dread5 sped backwards6 and forwards between Roger in his gaol7 and herself crawling snailwise over the intervening space, and taunted9 her with her helplessness. The enforced inaction left her a prey10 to mental maladies that otherwise she would have shaken off. Moody11 and irritable12, she had words for none.
At the outset, she had been forced to recognise one drag on her speed: she dare not press the greys beyond their strength, nor dare she leave them at some posting-house and take fresh horses for the succeeding stages of the journey. That she risked her father's displeasure in any case, in returning thus, she was certain. She saw her position from his point of view: merely because she could not bear to stay behind, she had come home; but that was no reason why she should ruin the horses. Therefore it was needless for Zacchary to preach rest and caution. At the inn where they stopped for the night, Marion saw to it that the weight of her purse and the new-born authority of her manner ensured the best stabling and food the house afforded. She had done all she could. Everything now depended on the coach and the animals. But in the meantime only some few hours had passed since she left London, and long days lay ahead during which she must perforce sit idle.
The morrow found her in the same gloomy condition, her desperate fancy dwelling13 on each coming stage of the interminable road. One day pressed on to another without any incident to ease her unhappy mood. Slowly the sun rose, and slowly sank to rest; the young moon over her casement15 mocked her restless sleep; and for Marion the incomparable beauty of the green summer turned into the spite of prison walls.
Simone, unobtrusively watching her young mistress, began to be concerned for her state, and would have almost welcomed an accident, a stray highwayman, if only the face in the corner would lose its set look.
But so far no such ill hap14 had occurred. Travelling only by daylight, and so well guarded, and, as the men on the box averred16, protected by a special fate, the coach had gone on its way unmolested. Tony the valiant17, as Simone had dubbed18 him, was indeed worth the three men of his master's boast, and his splendid horsemanship and elegant livery had called for no few admiring glances from the farm lads and rosy19-cheeked wenches who stood at times to watch the coach and its outrider go by. The travellers had done almost half the journey before Simone found out that while Zacchary and Reuben slept in a hayloft above the horses' stalls, Tony chose for his bed the boards of the landing outside the ladies' bedchamber. Simone herself, water jug21 in hand, had come suddenly upon this unexpected barricade22 one morning when Master Tony had overslept himself. She had all but fallen headlong over the prostrate23 body, and her exclamation24 finding its way into his dreams, the young man had become aware of a slippered25 foot within reach of his hand. At once his fingers closed on the foot, while he wriggled26 into a position that would enable him to see who was daring to pass so close to the door behind which his fair charges were sleeping. Scarcely had he brought his drowsy27 eyes to rest on Simone's dainty face before the few drops of water left in the ewer28 trickled29 on to his own. Her foot released, Simone stood back with a smile. 'So 'tis thyself who snores so loudly that my mistress and I have feared our walls were but thin boards! Snore on, valiant warrior,' said Simone over her shoulder, as she went along the passage. 'Henceforth the sound of thy slumbers30 shall be music to our ears.'
In the late afternoon of the fourth day the coach was making a rather slow progress along the Ilminster Road. Zacchary had discovered, or imagined, as Marion asserted, a slight lameness32 in the inside leader. Nothing would induce him to hurry his pace, and Marion had been obliged to bow to his will.
To Simone's unbounded relief, Marion's attack of depression had worn itself out. The consciousness that in a few more days, granted no ill fortune, she would cross the boundary into Cornwall, lent an added buoyancy to her reacting mood.
The sound of the broad Dorset speech, which had induced a home-coming sensation in Marion, had greatly diverted Simone. Marion, giving her a lesson in west country dialect, did not notice the narrow lane, deep ditched at one side, into which they had passed, and was unaware33 of any danger until, with a sickening heave, the coach slanted34 down into the hollow, and rested there.
'Bide35 where you be, Mistress,' came Zacchary's call. 'Us'll shift un all right!'
For a few seconds the men struggled at the horses' heads, the Cornishman's cries to the struggling greys running into a high falsetto and an affectionate reviling36 that made even Marion smile.
''Tis nothing,' she said to Simone, as the two balanced themselves against the list of the coach floor. 'We toppled into a ditch coming down, and were soon on the road again. Zacchary must have been careless for once. There! 'Twas a splendid pull. Ah—stay! What was that?'
The coach, almost balanced, had fallen back slanting-wise, and with the movement had come the sound of a snap, and a struggling of horses' feet. The voices of the men ceased.
'Something has happened,' said Marion, 'and I can't open this villainous door! Reuben!' she called.
The footman was already climbing on to the coach step, which appeared to be poised37 in mid-air, and in a moment the two girls were lifted to the ground.
Zacchary was bending over a broken trace.
'Oh!' said Marion in a relieved tone, 'I thought the pole had gone.'
Zacchary's mouth twisted under his beard. 'My lady would sing a different song by and by, when she saw the time it would take to mend the break.'
'You have all your tools, have you not?' asked Marion.
Zacchary straightened himself. 'There bean't nawt in yonder box at all, Mistress. A wor that struck at the sudden hurry of coming away a' clean forgot.'
Marion stood in silent dismay.
Meanwhile, Tony had been scouting38 ahead, and now trotted39 down the lane with the news that a likely inn was perched in a hollow over the next hill.
'Didst see aught of a cobbler's bench perched by un?' demanded Zacchary, his wrath41 rising. 'Streak42 off now, tha girt gawk! And if thou should light on a few sheep up over—and us allows tha'll be some scared—there bean't no call to trot40 back to tell the Mistress. A body would ha' thought—but thy head's too full o' Lunnon impidence for aught else.'
Not waiting to hear the end of the speech, Tony wheeled round.
'Will it take long to mend it, Zacchary?' inquired Marion.
'Maybe, maybe. 'Tis a bad split. Easy, now there,' called Zacchary, watching Reuben freeing the wheelers. 'So. Let un graze quiet-like.'
Marion sighed. 'Do your best, Zacchary,' she said gently. 'We will walk on a bit, and wait at the inn till you come.'
After a short walk between the steep flower-grown hedges, the two reached the little hostelry which Tony had espied43 from the crest44 of the hill. A smiling, rosy-cheeked innkeeper, with a smiling, rosy-cheeked wife at his side, stood on the steps as the two came up, their approach having been noted45 from the kitchen windows. The woman smoothed her apron46 and dropped a series of curtseys as her husband greeted the travellers.
'Thank you,' said Marion. 'We should like to wait awhile, but 'twould be more pleasure to walk about in the garden yonder than to sit indoors. We have had over much sitting in the coach these days past. But,' she added, rather anxiously, 'did not our man come up to ask for an awl8 and some leather for mending the trace?'
'He has but now gone up over, Madam,' said the innkeeper. 'The cobbler's cottage is that you see yonder, next the blacksmith's.'
As he spoke47, the man pointed48 out the few dwellings49 of a tiny hamlet across the fields.
'If you would see that the cobbler comes himself,' began Marion:—then she broke off, smiling. 'Tony is indeed worth three men,' she said to Simone. 'See yonder where he comes with the cobbler riding behind.'
'A don't allow but that his horse be tired some,' remarked the innkeeper as, in a few minutes, Tony's chestnut50 went by at a canter with her double burden. 'Would it not be best to lie here and go on to-morrow?'
Here the wife chimed in. 'There be a dish o' trout51 from the brook52, caught this morning, a fine ham up the chimney ready for cutting, Mistress, and sheep's kidneys, and a venison pasty, and a good fat fowl53 hanging yonder. Killed yesterday, 'twas.'
Marion shook her head. 'We want to get to Ilminster to-night.'
'Ilminster! For pity's sake, Mistress, think of the horses!' cried the innkeeper. 'But in any case, wife, get the ladies a pot of cider.'
For close on an hour Marion and Simone walked in the garden and to and fro along the lane, waiting for the rest of the party to reappear. Towards the end of the time Marion fell silent, and Simone forbore to draw her into conversation. At length the sound of horses was heard, and with an impatient word Marion turned to greet the laggards54; but the word died on her lips, and she stared in dismay as the coach came up the lane, drawn55 by the wheelers only, Reuben following with the leaders at the rear of the vehicle.
'There bean't nothing amiss, Mistress Marion,' said Zacchary as the coach came to a standstill in front of the inn. 'Us have mended the trace all right, but you must see, with Jennifer falling lame31, it be wellnigh impossible to reach Ilminster to-night. In any case the horses be weary. Cobbler tells me there bean't near so good stabling this side Exeter as to this here inn. I vote we stay, Mistress, and get on the road at sunrise.'
There was a doggedness in Zacchary's voice that Marion remembered from her childhood's days. It was no good arguing the matter when Zacchary spoke in that tone.
'Very well,' said Marion. She turned to go into the garden again, and Simone went to the well of the coach to find her mistress's box that had been set apart for necessities of travel.
'Then my lady will stay?' cried the innkeeper's wife. 'Supper shall be ready in a very short time.'
Her husband, meanwhile, was looking along the road to the west. In the bustle56 of stabling the greys no one had noticed another rider coming in from the Ilminster direction. The landlord listened intently for a minute, then his rosy face broadened into a still wider smile.
'Here be another for supper and bed, an I mistake not,' he called to his wife. 'Yonder roan hath cast a shoe.'
From inside the garden, which ran westward57 of the inn, Marion looked curiously58 for the arrival of another victim of the hazards of the road. Presently the roan trotted up, and the rider dismounted. He was a lean, spare young man, and from his garments and manner of speech as he greeted the innkeeper, Marion vaguely59 classed him as a lawyer's clerk.
'You have ridden hard, sir,' the innkeeper was saying. 'And a finer brute60 I never saw.'
Mine host had evidently no suspicion that Marion was within earshot; precisely61 the same approval he had cast on her greys.
'I ride on a hard errand, my good man,' said the new comer in a slightly pompous62 tone. 'Is there a smith hereabouts?'
The landlord indicated the cottages across the green. 'My boy shall take your horse, sir,' he said, 'and supper will be on the table presently. We have youth and beauty for our guests to-night, sir.'
'Aha!' said the stranger, squaring his shoulders and pulling his moustache—'and who may——?'
With a smile, Marion moved out of earshot.
Presently Zacchary came hesitatingly into the garden. Having won his point so easily, he was wishful for a word of peace with his lady. ''Twas for the best,' he said, his old eyes looking into the clear grey ones.
'I know it, Zacchary,' said Marion gently. 'Are the horses all right? What of Jennifer?'
Zacchary nodded. 'Jennifer will be all right to-morrow. Yonder Tony be a power o' help. A don't allow but her be as handy a man with the brutes63 as ever a clapped eyes on. Beats me how her knows such a terr'ble lot about horses, and Lunnon-born and bred.' The old groom64 moved a step nearer. 'Yonder be a Devon man now come,' he pursued, his voice dropping. 'Do 'ee look out for your purse, Mistress.'
'Zacchary! I am truly ashamed of you!'
Zacchary looked stolidly65 at his mistress. 'Like as not a rogue,' he insisted. 'A don't niver trust they Devon ikes. I should be main surprised if her haven't robbed somebody already, being that careful with the saddlebags and all.'
'I don't suppose his saddlebags contain anything more than a bundle of documents,' said Marion. 'You're as bad as old Mother Borlase, Zacchary.'
'And the man was that solemn and grand,' went on Zacchary, 'a body might a took un for Governor of Bodmin, no less.'
'Go and get your supper. And don't be such a quarrelsome wretch66. The man is very well.'
Marion followed Zacchary indoors and was escorted by the innkeeper's wife to the best bedroom, where Simone had laid out a change of dress for her mistress.
'I feel mightily67 inclined for a quiet meal,' remarked Marion as the last deft68 touches were put to her hair and gown. 'And perhaps I may get one if you will show the same kindness that you showed in entertaining Captain Beckenham on my behalf that first day.'
A slight spot of colour showed on Simone's cheeks.
'à votre service, Mademoiselle,' she said in a rather constrained69 voice.
Marion glanced at her curiously in the mirror. 'He was certainly very gallant70 and delightful,' she went on. 'No one can be more so than Captain Beckenham. Yonder man downstairs is of a different order, though. Still, I have no fear your fine steel will fail in meeting his heavy blade.'
As Marion spoke a kitchen-maid knocked at the door to announce supper, and the two went down into the little dining-room. Mine host, all smiles and delight, stood within the doorway71. He was one of those innkeepers who made travelling a pleasure; the comfort and happiness of his guests and not his own gain seemed to be his one consideration. By the window stood the newcomer. He turned as the ladies entered. From the amount of self-importance he contrived72 to put into his greeting Marion understood at once Zacchary's hostile feeling.
With the slightest lift of her eyebrows73 Simone followed her mistress to the place allotted74 and sat down. After acknowledging the stranger's bow with a cold salutation, Marion turned her attention to the innkeeper and then to her supper. Her sense of weariness and lurking75 anxiety was weighing on her spirits. Nothing but the eager face of her host as he hovered76 by her chair, pressing dish after dish for her acceptance, would have made her break the silence that, in her present mood, was the only comfort possible.
Meanwhile the stranger had turned his attention to Simone, and presently, as the good cheer of food and wine stole over Marion's senses, easing a little her mental strain, she became aware that a very fine play was going on across the table. The countryman could make no headway against Simone's cool wit. He fell back on the resort of his kind: boasting. Mine host's wine, too, in the quantities the man drank, would have made a braggart77 of the humblest spirit.
Thus it was that Marion, her eyes on the June roses that overran the grey walls of the inn, flaming red in warm sunset, suddenly became aware of the man's rising voice, of his flourishes as he talked of himself. She brought her cool, level gaze to bear upon his heated face. At the moment he was explaining for the benefit of the innkeeper his own very great impatience78 as compared with other folk who wandered aimlessly on this dull planet.
'Show us thy merit, then, sir,' broke in the smiling innkeeper. 'Give us chapter and verse!'
'Ah!' said the other, bridling79, ''tis a secret mission.'
Simone slightly shrugged80 her shoulders and turned to her custard.
''Tis an interesting word—secret,' she remarked idly.
''Tis a word not much liked hereabouts,' interposed the landlord with a look for his guest. ''Tis main near to Dorchester for that.'
'Ay, well mayst thou look so, my good man,' said the other, laying down his glass. 'And there be others who would look on me thus did they know what I carry. Before you, madam,' he said, turning to Simone with a clumsy, top-heavy bow, 'you see a man in whose hands is a mission of life and death.'
Marion looked hard at the speaker.
'La, la!' said Simone. 'You are then arranging a duel81. Where is 't to be fought?'
'Ay—a duel, mistress, wherein but one shall bear a tool. But—' the man puffed82 out his chest, 'the result of my mission may mean that even that one tool shall be idle. In the main I hope it may, for I hear 'tis a well-known youth of excellent parts who has tripped in the path, and that more out of friendliness83 than roguery.' Taking Marion's unwavering look for a stare of admiration84 the man paused for further effect. 'Ay,' he said again, 'in these hands lies the life of one who pines yonder—' he jerked his head in the direction of the setting sun. 'More wine, mine host. 'Tis a worthy85 vintage. Mistress, the honour of a bumper86.'
Marion rose. 'Our host himself will bear you company, sir,' she said, her face calm. 'I pray you—' turning to the innkeeper, 'take a bottle at my charges. 'Tis a most excellent supper, and should not be spoilt with haste. But as for ourselves, we are somewhat weary, and we wish you a very good evening.'
The innkeeper's wife came trotting87 in in answer to her husband's call, and taking a candle, accompanied the ladies to their chamber20. In response to Marion's question, she explained that Zacchary and his fellows had supped, and, the night being yet young, had gone over with her own serving men for company for a friendly hour at the blacksmith's. The kitchen wenches were abed, she added, for they must be up before dawn. And if the ladies had no further need of her, she herself would retire. Marion had already learned that the inn was also something in the nature of a farm, and knowing the double labours that must fall on those plump shoulders, she bade the woman seek her own couch at once.
'We ourselves must be up before the sun,' she said. 'I would fain be well on the road by seven o'clock.'
With a bobbing curtsey the woman departed. As she went down the landing Marion turned and looked at Simone.
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1
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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awl
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| n.尖钻 | |
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taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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hap
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| n.运气；v.偶然发生 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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dubbed
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| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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ewer
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| n.大口水罐 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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41
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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47
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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50
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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52
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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53
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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54
laggards
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| n.落后者( laggard的名词复数 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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braggart
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| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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bridling
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的现在分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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