Part 5 (1/2)

”Yes, I will.”

”Well then, look here, you! We're both honest men, and friends, and we tell each other no lies; and so we know your double ways. I know what you said last night. Jock knows what you said to-day. D'you see?

Now then, fair and square! Here we are before you; once and have done.

Which is it to be, Jock or me?”

You would have thought that the woman would have been overwhelmed with shame, but instead of that her eyes were s.h.i.+ning with delight; and I dare wager that it was the proudest moment of her life. As she looked from one to the other of us, with the cold morning sun glittering on her face, I had never seen her look so lovely. Jim felt it also, I am sure; for he dropped her wrist, and the harsh lines were softened upon his face.

”Come, Edie! which is it to be?” he asked.

”Naughty boys, to fall out like this!” she cried. ”Cousin Jack, you know how fond I am of you.”

”Oh, then go to him!” said Horscroft.

”But I love n.o.body but Jim. There is n.o.body that I love like Jim.”

She snuggled up to him, and laid her cheek against his breast.

”You see, Jock!” said he, looking over her shoulder.

I did see; and away I went for West Inch, another man from the time that I left it.

CHAPTER V.

THE MAN FROM THE SEA.

Well, I was never one to sit groaning over a cracked pot. If it could not be mended, then it is the part of a man to say no more of it.

For weeks I had an aching heart; indeed, it is a little sore now, after all these years and a happy marriage, when I think of it. But I kept a brave face on me; and, above all, I did as I had promised that day on the hillside. I was as a brother to her, and no more: though there were times when I had to put a hard curb upon myself; for even now she would come to me with her coaxing ways, and with tales about how rough Jim was, and how happy she had been when I was kind to her; for it was in her blood to speak like that, and she could not help it.

But for the most part Jim and she were happy enough. It was all over the countryside that they were to be married when he had pa.s.sed his degree, and he would come up to West Inch four nights a week to sit with us. My folk were pleased about it, and I tried to be pleased too.

Maybe at first there was a little coolness between him and me: there was not quite the old schoolboy trust between us. But then, when the first smart was pa.s.sed, it seemed to me that he had acted openly, and that I had no just cause for complaint against him. So we were friendly, in a way; and as for her, he had forgotten all his anger, and would have kissed the print of her shoe in the mud. We used to take long rambles together, he and I; and it is about one of these that I now want to tell you.

We had pa.s.sed over Bramston Heath and round the clump of firs which screens the house of Major Elliott from the sea wind. It was spring now, and the year was a forward one, so that the trees were well leaved by the end of April. It was as warm as a summer day, and we were the more surprised when we saw a huge fire roaring upon the gra.s.s-plot before the Major's door. There was half a fir-tree in it, and the flames were spouting up as high as the bedroom windows. Jim and I stood staring, but we stared the more when out came the Major, with a great quart pot in his hand, and at his heels his old sister who kept house for him, and two of the maids, and all four began capering about round the fire. He was a douce, quiet man, as all the country knew, and here he was like old Nick at the carlin's dance, hobbling around and waving his drink above his head. We both set off running, and he waved the more when he saw us coming.

”Peace!” he roared. ”Huzza, boys! Peace!”

And at that we both fell to dancing and shouting too; for it had been such a weary war as far back as we could remember, and the shadow had lain so long over us, that it was wondrous to feel that it was lifted.

Indeed it was too much to believe, but the Major laughed our doubts to scorn.

”Aye, aye, it is true,” he cried, stopping with his hand to his side.

”The Allies have got Paris, Boney has thrown up the sponge, and his people are all swearing allegiance to Louis XVIII.”

”And the Emperor?” I asked. ”Will they spare him?”

”There's talk of sending him to Elba, where he'll be out of mischief's way. But his officers, there are some of them who will not get off so lightly. Deeds have been done during these last twenty years that have not been forgotten. There are a few old scores to be settled. But it's Peace! Peace!”

And away he went once more with his great tankard hopping round his bonfire.