BY THE FIRE.

Martin was weary of the woodman’s hut, as he was before weary of the mine. Watt had hard work to pacify him. His rheumatism was better. Neither Jasper nor Walter could decide how far the attack was real and how far simulated. Probably he really suffered, and exaggerated his sufferings to provoke sympathy.

Whilst the weather was summery he endured his captivity, for he could lie in the sun on a hot rock and smoke or whistle, with his hands in his pockets, and Martin loved to lounge and be idle; but when the weather changed, he became restive, ill-humoured, and dissatisfied. What aggravated his discontent was a visit from Barbara, whom he found it impossible to impress with admiration for his manly beauty and pity for his sorrows.

‘That girl is a beast,’ he said to Walter, when she was gone. ‘I really could hardly be civil to her. A perfect Caliban, devoid of taste and feeling. Upon my word some of our fellow-beings are without humanity. I could see through that person at a glance. She is made up of selfishness. If there be one quality most repulsive to me, that is it—selfishness. I do not believe the creature cast a thought upon me, my wants, my sufferings, my peril. Watt, if she shows her ugly face here again, stand against the door, and say, “Not at home.”’

‘Dear Martin, we will go as soon as you are well enough to leave.’

‘Whither are we to go? I cannot join old Barret and his wife and monkeys and babies and walking-sticks of actors, as long as he is in the county. I would go to Bristol or Bath or Cheltenham if I had money, but these miserly Jordans will not find me any. They want to drive me away without first lining my pocket. I know what was meant by those cold slabs of mutton, to-day. It meant, go away. I wait till they give me money.’

‘Dear Martin, you must not be inconsiderate.’

‘I glory in it. What harm comes of it? It is your long-headed, prudent prophets who get into scrapes and can’t get out of them again. I never calculate; I act on impulse, and that always brings me right.’

‘Not always, Martin, or you would not be here.’

‘O, yes, even here. When the impulse comes on me to go, I shall go, and you will find I go at the right time. If that Miss Jordan comes here again with her glum ugly mug, I shall be off. Or Jasper, looking as if the end of the world were come. I can’t stand that. See how cleverly I got away from Prince’s Town.’

‘I helped you, Martin.’

‘I do not pretend that I did all myself. I did escape, and a brilliantly executed manoeuvre it was. I thought I was caught in a cleft stick when I dropped on the party of beaks at the “Hare and Hounds,” but see how splendidly I got away. I do believe, Watt, I’ve missed my calling, and ought to have been a general in the British army.’

‘But, dear Martin, generals have to scheme other things beside running away.’

‘None of your impudence, you jackanapes. I tell you I do not scheme. I act on the spur of the moment. If I had lain awake a week planning I could have done nothing better. The inspiration comes to me the moment I require it. Your vulgar man always does the wrong thing when an emergency arises. By heaven, Watt! this is a dog’s life I am leading, and not worth living. I am shivering. The damp worms into one’s bones. I shall go out on the Rock.’

‘O, Martin, stay here. It is warmer in this hut. A cold wind blows.’

‘It is midwinter here, and can’t be more Siberia-like out there. I am sick of the smell of dry leaves. I am tired of looking at withered sticks. The monotony of this place is unendurable. I wish I were back in prison.’

‘I will play my violin to amuse you,’ said the boy.

‘Curse your fiddle, I do not want to have that squeaking in my ears; besides, it is sure to be out of tune with the damp, and screw up as you may, before you have gone five bars it is flat again. Why has Eve not been here to tell me of what she saw in Plymouth?’

‘My dear Martin, you must consider. She dare not come here. You cannot keep open house, and send round cards of invitation, with “Mr. Martin Babb at home.”’

‘I don’t care. I shall go on the Rock, and have a fire.’

‘A fire!’ exclaimed Watt, aghast.

‘Why not? I am cold, and my rheumatism is worse. I won’t have rheumatic fever for you or all the Jordans and Jaspers in Devonshire.’

‘I entreat you, be cautious. Remember you are in hiding. You have already been twice caught.’

‘Because on both occasions I ran into the hands of the police. The first time I attempted no concealment. I did not think my father would have been such a—such a pig as to send them after me. I’ll tell you what, my boy, there is no generosity and honour anywhere. They are like the wise teeth that come, not to be used, but to go, and go painfully.’ Then he burst out of the hut, and groaning and cursing scrambled through the coppice to the Raven Rock.

Walter knew too well that when his brother had resolved on anything, however outrageous, it was in vain for him to attempt dissuasion. He therefore accompanied him up the steep slope and through the bushes, lending him a hand, and drawing the boughs back before him, till he reached the platform of rock.

The signs of autumn were apparent everywhere. Two days before they had not been visible. The bird-cherry was turning; the leaves of the dogwood were royal purple, and those at the extremity of the branches were carmine. Here and there umbelliferous plants had turned white; all the sap was withdrawn, they were bleached at the prospect of the coming decay of nature. The heather had donned its pale flowers; but there was no brightness in the purples and pinks, they were the purples and pinks not of sunflush, but of chill. A scent of death pervaded the air. The foxgloves had flowered up their long spires to the very top, and only at the very top did a feeble bell or two bloom whilst the seeds ripened below. No butterflies, no moths even were about. The next hot day the scarlet admirals would be out, but now they hung with folded wings downwards, exhibiting pepper and salt and no bright colour under the leaves, waiting and shivering.

‘Everything is doleful,’ said Martin, standing on the platform and looking round. ‘Only one thing lacks to make the misery abject, and that is rain. If the clouds drop, and the water leaks into my den, I’ll give myself up, and secure a dry cell somewhere—then Jasper and the Jordans may make the best of it. I’m not going to become a confirmed invalid to save Jasper’s pride, and help on his suit to that dragon of Wantley. If he thinks it against his interest that I should be in gaol, I’ll go back there. I’m not eager to have that heap of superciliousness as a sister-in-law, Walter, so collect sticks and fern that I may have a fire.’

‘Martin, do not insist on this; the light and smoke will be seen.’

‘Who is there to see? This rock is only visible from Cornwall, and there is no bridge over the Tamar for some miles up the river. Who will care to make a journey of some hours to ask why a fire has been kindled on the Raven Rock? Look behind, the trees screen this terrace, no one at Morwell will see. The hills and rocks fold on the river and hide us from all habitable land. Do not oppose me; I will have a fire.’

‘O, Martin,’ said the boy, ‘you throw on me all the responsibility of caring for your safety, and you make my task a hard one by your thoughtlessness.’

‘I am so unselfish,’ said Martin gravely. ‘I never do consider myself. I can’t help it, such is my nature.’

Walter reluctantly complied with his brother’s wish. The boy had lost his liveliness. The mischief and audacity were driven out of him by the responsibility that weighed on him.

Abundance of fuel was to be had. The summer had been hot, and little rain had fallen. Wood had been cut the previous winter, and bundles of faggots lay about, that had not been removed and stacked.

Before long the fire was blazing, and Martin crouched at it warming his hands and knees. His face relaxed whilst that of Walter became lined with anxiety. As he was thus seated, Jasper came on him carrying a blanket. He was dismayed at what his brother had done, and reproached him.

Martin shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is very well for you in a dry house, on a feather bed and between blankets, but very ill for poor me, condemned to live like a wild beast. You should have felt my hands before I had a fire to thaw them at, they were like the cold mutton I had for my dinner.’

‘Martin, you must put that fire out. You have acted with extreme indiscretion.’

‘Spare me your reproaches; I know I am indiscreet. It is my nature, as it lies in the nature of a lion to be noble, and of a dog to be true.’

‘Really,’ said Jasper, hotly, disturbed out of his usual equanimity by the folly of his brother, ‘really, Martin, you are most aggravating. You put me to great straits to help you, and strain to the utmost my relations to the Jordan family. I do all I can—more than I ought—for you, and you wantonly provoke danger. Who but you would have had the temerity to return to this neighbourhood after your escape and my accident! Then—why do you remain here? I cannot believe in your illness. Your lack of common consideration is the cause of incessant annoyance to your friends. That fire shall go out.’ He went to it resolutely, and kicked it apart, and threw some of the flaming oak sticks over the edge of the precipice.

‘I hope you are satisfied now,’ said Martin sulkily. ‘You have spoiled my pleasure, robbed me of my only comfort, and have gained only this—that I wash my hands of you, and will leave this place to-night. I will no longer remain near you—inhuman, unbrotherly as you are.’

‘I am very glad to hear that you are going,’ answered Jasper. ‘You shall have my horse. That horse is my own, and he will carry you away. Send Walter for it when you like. I will see that the stable-door is open, and the saddle and bridle handy. The horse is in a stable near the first gate, away from the house, and can be taken unobserved.’

‘You are mightily anxious to be rid of me,’ sneered Martin. ‘And this is a brother!’

‘I had brought you a blanket off my own bed, because I supposed you were cold.’

‘I will not have it,’ said Martin sharply. ‘If you shiver for want of your blanket I shall be blamed. Your heart will overflow with gall against poor me. Keep your blanket to curl up in yourself. I shall leave to-night. I have too much proper pride to stay where I am not wanted, with a brother who begrudges me a scrap of fire.’

Jasper held out his hand. ‘I must go back at once,’ he said. ‘If you leave to-night it may be years before we meet again. Come, Martin, you know me better than your words imply. Do not take it ill that I have destroyed your fire. I think only of your safety. Give me your hand, brother; your interest lies at my heart.’

Martin would not touch the proffered hand, he folded his arms and turned away. Jasper looked at him, long and sadly, but Martin would not relent, and he left.

‘Get the embers together again,’ ordered Martin. ‘Under the Scottish fir are lots of cones full of resin; pile them on the fire, and make a big blaze. Let Jasper see it. I will show him that I am not going to be beaten by his insolence.’

‘He may have been rough, but he was right,’ said Watt.

‘Oh! you also turn against me! A viper I have cherished in my bosom!’

The boy sighed; he dare no longer refuse, and he sorrowfully gathered the scattered fire together, fanned the embers, applied to them bits of dry fern, then fir cones, and soon a brilliant jet of yellow flame leaped aloft.

Martin raised himself to his full height that the fire might illuminate him from head to foot, and so he stood, with his arms folded, thinking what a fine fellow he was, and regretting that no appreciative eye was there to see him.

‘What a splendid creature man is!’ said he to himself or Walter. ‘So great in himself; and yet, how little and mean he becomes through selfishness! I pity Jasper—from my heart I pity him. I am not angry—only sorry.’