The Star-Gazers Part 72

"Yes, sir, it ought; but you see, once a man takes to that kind of work it's hard to keep from it."

"But, my good fellow, you may be laid by the heels in gaol at any time.

I wondered you were not taken over that affair."

"So I should have been, if I'd had any other doctor, sir," said Hayle, with a meaning smile, "and the police had been a little sharper. But you didn't chatter, and our fellows didn't, and so I got off."

"But think, now; you, the father of a young girl like Miss Hayle, what would her feelings be if you were sent to prison like that young fellow--what's his name--was."

"Caleb Kent, sir?"

"Yes. What's become of him? I haven't seen him lately."

"Racketing about somewhere, sir. Me and him had a quarrel or two about my Judith. He was always hanging after her; and it got so bad, at last, that I promised him a charge o' shot in his jacket if he ever came anigh our place again. He saw I meant it, sir, and he has left the poor girl in peace."

"Well, I must be off, Hayle."

"Thankye for calling, sir. Been to see the old mother-in-law?"

"Yes; she keeps wonderfully well."

"You mean you keep her wonderfully well, sir. Poor old girl, she's not a bad one in her way."

"No, and there's nothing the matter with her but old age."

"Hear that the missus is coming back to The Warren, sir?"

"Yes, and that the Brackley people are on their way too. Look here, Hayle, shall I put in a word for you to Sir John?"

"No thankye, doctor, let me bide; things 'll come right in time. Think there'll be a wedding at the Hall, now, sir? They tell me Miss Day's got well and strong again."

"I've enough to do with my people when they want me, Hayle," said the doctor, drily, "and I never interfere about their private matters; but, as you ask me that question, I should say decidedly not."

The ex-keeper smiled, as if the doctor's words coincided with his own thoughts, and he stood watching Oldroyd, as he rode off, getting a peep at Judith seated by the window working hard as he went by, the girl's face looking pale and waxen in the shade.

"Fretting a bit, by the look of her, and those dark rings," said Oldroyd, as he rode away. "How much happier a place the world would be if there were no marrying and giving in marriage--no making love at all.

Causes more worry, I think, than the drink."

Volume 3, Chapter XI.

DRAWN TOGETHER.

"Well, dearest," said Mrs Rolph, "have you been all round?"

Rolph, who was leaning back in his chair in the library at The Warren, reading a sporting paper, uttered a growl.

"Not satisfactory, dear?"

"Satisfactory! the place has gone to rack and ruin. I don't believe those cursed poachers have left a head of game on the estate; but I know who's at the bottom of it, and he'd better look out."

"I'm very sorry, dear," said Mrs Rolph, going behind her son's chair to stroke his hair. "The garden looks very nice; both Madge and I thought so. Why didn't you run over now and then to see that the keeper was doing his duty."

"Run over?" cried Rolph, savagely; "who was going to run over here for every fool one met to be pointing his cursed finger at you, and saying, 'There goes the fellow who didn't get married.'"

"My dearest boy," said Mrs Rolph, soothingly, as she laid her cheek on the top of his head, "don't fret about that now. You know it's nearly eighteen months ago."

"I don't care if it's eighteen hundred months ago--and do leave off, mother, you know I hate having my hair plastered down."

Mrs Rolph kissed the place where her cheek had been laid, and then drew back, showing that the complaint had not been merited, for, so far from the hair being plastered down, there was scarcely any to plaster, Rolph's head being cropped close in athletic and on anti-Samsonic principles as regarded strength.

"It was very, very hard for you, my dearest, and it is most unfortunate that they should have chosen the same time to return as we did. You-- er--heard that they are back?"

"Of course I did, and if you'd any respect for your son, you'd sell this cursed hole, and go somewhere else."

"Don't--don't ask me to do that, Rob, dear," said Mrs Rolph. "I know your poor father looked forward to your succeeding to it and keeping it up."

"I hate the place," growled Rolph rustling his paper; and Mrs Rolph looked pleased, but she said nothing for some time. Then, very gently,--

"Rob, dearest, you are going to stay now you are here?"

"No; I'm going to Hounslow to-morrow."

"Not so soon as that, dear," said Mrs Rolph, pleadingly, as she laid her hand upon his shoulder.

"Why not? What's the good of staying here?"

"To please your mother, dearest, and--Madge, who is in a terribly weak state I had great difficulty in getting her back here."

Rolph moved angrily, and crumpled up the paper, but Mrs Rolph bent down and kissed him.

"There, all right," he said, "only don't bother me about it so. I can't forget that other cursed muddle, if you can."

"No, my dear, of course not, but you should try to. And, Rob, dear, be a little more thoughtful about dearest Madge. She has, I know, suffered cruelly in the past, and does so now at times when you seem neglectful-- no, no, don't start, dear; I know you are not, but girls are exacting, and do love to spoil men by trying to keep them at their feet."

"Like spaniels or pugs," growled Rolph, the latter being the more appropriate.

"Yes, dear, but she will grow wiser in that direction, and you cannot be surprised at her anxiety. Rob, dearest, you must not blame her for her worship of one whom she looks upon as a demiG.o.d--the perfection of all that is manly and strong."

"Oh, no; it's all right, mother," said Rolph, who felt flattered by the maternal and girlish adulation; "I'll behave like a lamb."

"You'll behave like my own true, brave son, dearest, and make me very happy. When shall it be, Rob?"

"Eh? The marriage?"

"Yes, dear," said Mrs Rolph, kneeling at his side and pa.s.sing an arm about him.

"Has Madge been at you about it?"

"For shame, dearest! She would die sooner than speak. You know how she gave up to what you fancied would make you happy before. Never a word, never a murmur; and she took that poor unfortunate girl, Glynne, to her heart as a sister."