DUCK AND GREEN PEAS.

Eve might evade an explanation by turning the defence into an attack when first surprised, but she was unable to resist a determined onslaught, and when Barbara followed her and parried all her feints, and brought her to close quarters, Eve was driven to admit that she had seen Martin, who was in concealment in the wood, and that she had undertaken to furnish him with food and the boathouse key. Jasper was taken into consultation, and promised to seek his brother and provide for him what was necessary, but neither he nor Barbara could induce her to remain at home and not revisit the fugitive.

‘I know that Jasper will not find the place without me,’ she said. ‘Watt only discovered it by his prowling about as a weasel. I must go with Mr. Jasper, but I promise you, Barbie, it shall be for the last time.’ There was reason in her argument, and Barbara was forced to acquiesce.

Accordingly in the evening, not before, the two set out for the mine, Eve carrying some provisions in a basket. Jasper was much annoyed that his brother was still in the neighbourhood, and still causing trouble to the sisters at Morwell.

Eve had shown her father the ring. The old man was satisfied; he took it, looked hard at it, slipped it on his little finger, and would not surrender it again. Eve must explain this to Martin if he redemanded the ring, which he was like enough to do.

Neither she nor Jasper spoke much to each other on the way; he had his thoughts occupied, and she was not easy in her mind. As they approached the part of the wood where the mine shaft was, she began to sing the song in ‘Don Giovanni,’ LÀ ci darem, as a signal to Watt that friends drew nigh through the bushes. On entering the adit they found Martin in an ill humour. He had been without food for many hours, and was moreover suffering from an attack of rheumatism.

‘I said as much this morning, Eve,’ he growled. ‘I knew this hateful hole would make me ill, and here I am in agonies. Oh, it is of no use your bringing me the key of the boat; I can’t go on the water with knives running into my back, and, what is more, I can’t stick in this hateful burrow. How many hours on the water down to Plymouth? I can’t even think of it; I should have rheumatic fever. I’d rather be back in jail—there I suppose they would give me hot-bottles and blankets. And this, too, when I had prepared such a treat for Eve. Curse it! I’m always thinking of others, and getting into pickles myself accordingly.’

‘Why, pray, what were you scheming to do for Miss Eve?’ asked Jasper.

‘O, the company I was with for a bit is at Plymouth, and are performing Weber’s new piece, “Preciosa,” and I thought I’d like to show it to her—and then the manager, Justice Barret, knows about her mother. When I told him of my escape, and leaving you at Morwell, he said that he had left one of his company there named Eve. I thought it would be a pleasure to the young lady to meet him, and hear what he had to tell of her mother.’

‘And you intended to carry Eve off with you?’

‘I intended to persuade her to accompany me. Perhaps she will do so still, when I am better.’

Jasper was angry, and spoke sharply to his brother. Martin turned on his bed of fern and heather, and groaning, put his hands over his ears.

‘Come,’ said he. ‘Watt, give me food. I can’t stand scolding on an empty stomach, and with aches in my bones.’

He was impervious to argument; remonstrance he resented. Jasper took the basket from Eve, and gave him what he required. He groaned and cried out as Watt raised him in his arms. Martin looked at Eve, appealing for sympathy. He was a martyr, a guiltless sufferer, and not spared even by his brother.

‘I think, Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘that if you were well wrapped in blankets you might still go in the boat.’

‘You seem vastly eager to be rid of me,’ answered Martin peevishly, ‘but, I tell you, I will not go. I’m not going to jeopardise my life on the river in the fogs and heavy dews to relieve you from anxiety. How utterly and unreasonably selfish you are! If there be one vice which is despicable, it is selfishness. I repeat, I won’t go, and I won’t stay in this hole. You must find some safe and warm place in which to stow me. I throw all responsibilities on you. I wish I had never escaped from jail—I have been sinking ever since I left it. There I had a dry cell and food. From that I went to the corn-chamber at Morwell, which was dry—but, faugh! how it stank of onions! Now I have this damp dungeon that smells of mould. Watt and you got me out of prison, and got me away from the warders and constables, so you must provide for me now. I have nothing more to do with it. If you take a responsibility on you, my doctrine is, go through with it; don’t take it up and drop it half finished. What news of that fellow I shot? Is he dead?’

‘No—wounded, but not dangerously.’

‘There, then, why should I fear? I was comfortable in jail. I had my meals regularly there, and was not subjected to damp. I trust my country would have cared for me better than my brothers, who give me at one time onions for a pillow, and at another heather for a bed.’

‘My dear Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘I think if you try you can walk up the road; there is a woodman’s hut among the trees near the Raven Rock, but concealed in the coppice. It is warm and dry, and no one will visit it whilst the leaves are on the trees. The workmen keep their tools there, and their dinners, when shredding in winter or rending in spring. You will be as safe there as here, and so much nearer Morwell that we shall be able easily to furnish you with necessaries till you are better, and can escape to Plymouth.’

‘I’m not sure that it is wise for me to try to get to Plymouth. The police will be on the look-out for me there, and they will not dream that I have stuck here—this is the last place where they would suppose I stayed. Besides, I have no money. No; I will wait till the company move away from the county, and I will rejoin it at Bridgewater, or Taunton, or Dorchester. Justice Barret is a worthy fellow; a travelling company can’t always command such abilities as mine, so the accommodation is mutual.’

Martin was assisted out of the mine. He groaned, cried out, and made many signs of distress; he really was suffering, but he made the most of his suffering. Jasper stood on one side of him. He would not hear of Walter sustaining him on the other side; he must have Eve as his support, and he could only support himself on her by putting his arm over her shoulders. No objections raised by Jasper were of avail. Watt was not tall enough. Watt’s steps were irregular. Watt was required to go on ahead and see that no one was in the way. Martin was certainly a very handsome man. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, and fair long hair; his eyes were dark and large, his features regular, his complexion pale and interesting. Seeing that Jasper looked at his hair with surprise, he laughed, and leaning his head towards him whispered, ‘Those rascals at Prince’s Town cropped me like a Puritan. I wear a theatrical wig before the sex, till my hair grows again.’

Then leaning heavily on Eve, he bent his head to her ear, and made a complimentary remark which brought the colour into her cheek.

‘Jasper,’ said he, turning his head again to his brother, ‘mind this, I cannot put up with cyder; I am racked with rheumatism, and I must have generous drink. I suppose your father’s cellar is well stocked?’ He addressed Eve. ‘You will see that the poor invalid is not starved, and has not his vitals wrung with vinegar. I have seen ducks about Morwell; what do you say to duck with onion stuffing for dinner to-morrow—and tawny port, eh? I’ll let you both into another confidence. I am not going to lie on bracken. By hook or by crook you must contrive to bring me out a feather bed. If I’ve not one, and a bolster and pillow and blankets—by George and the dragon! I’ll give myself up to the beaks.’

Then he moaned, and squeezed Eve’s shoulder.

‘Green peas,’ he said when the paroxysm was over. ‘Duck and green peas; I shall dine off that to-morrow—and tell the cook not to forget the mint. Also some carrot sliced, boiled, then fried in Devonshire cream, with a little shallot cut very fine and toasted, sprinkled on top. ‘Sweetheart,’ aside to Eve into her ear, ‘you shall come and have a snack with me. Remember, it is an invitation. We will not have old solemn face with us as a mar-fun, shall we?’

The woodman’s hut when reached after a slow ascent was found to be small, warm, and in good condition. It was so low that a man could not stand upright in it, but it was sufficiently long to allow him to lie his length therein. The sides were of wattled oak branches, compacted with heather and moss, and the roof was of turf. The floor was dry, deep bedded in fern.

‘It is a dog’s kennel,’ said the dissatisfied Martin; ‘or rather it is not so good as that. It is the sort of place made for swans and geese and ducks beside a pond, for shelter when they lay their eggs. It really is humiliating that I should have to bury my head in a sort of water-fowl’s sty.’

Eve promised that Martin should have whatever he desired. Jasper had, naturally, a delicacy in offering anything beyond his own services, though he knew he could rely on Barbara.

When they had seen the exhausted and anguished martyr gracefully reposing on the bracken bed, to rest after his painful walk, and had already left, they were recalled by his voice shouting to Jasper, regardless of every consideration that should have kept him quiet, ‘Don’t be a fool, Jasper, and shake the bottle. If you break the crust I won’t drink it.’ And again the call came, ‘Mind the green peas.’

As Jasper and Eve walked back to Morwell neither spoke much, but on reaching the last gate, Eve said—

‘O, dear Mr. Jasper, do help me to persuade Barbie to let me go! I have made up my mind; I must and will see the play and hear all that the manager can tell me about my mother.’

‘I will go to Plymouth, Miss Eve. I must see this Mr. Justice Barret, and I will learn every particular for you.’

‘That is not enough. I want to see a play. I have never been to a theatre in all my life.’

‘I will see what your sister says.’

‘I am obstinate. I shall go, whether she says yes or no.’

‘To-morrow is Sunday,’ said Jasper, ‘when no theatre is open.’

‘Besides,’ added Eve, ‘there is poor Martin’s duck and green peas to-morrow.’

‘And crusted port. If we go, it must be Monday.’