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Calverley paused an instant. De Boteler and the baroness were in LondonDe Boteler, assisting in the councils of Richard, and Isabella, by reason of a vow, that, should there be again a probability of her becoming a mother, she would not trust the life of her child within the walls of Sudley castle;and he remembered the strict injunction his lord had given him in the case of the disinterment of Edith, not to presume to act again without his authority. He remembered also that he had been much dissatisfied with the result of father John's imprisonment, and also with the mode adopted for recovering Holgrave: but the present was a moment that would warrant decisive measuresso he proceeded to the door, and desired the retainers to follow on to Winchcombe, and seize the monk. But there was an evident unwillingness to obey: the name of John Ball had spread through the land, and there was so much of misty brightness encircling itso many strange stories were told of himso mysterious were often his appearings and disappearingsand so high was the veneration his novel doctrines inspiredthat even the lawless retainer shrank from periling his soul by molesting so sanctified a being. Besides, the former assault was not forgotten, with all the strange exaggerations which had seemed to render miraculous the circumstance of a handful of men liberating a prisoner.In this way he managed to do a few little things to brighten Bessie's grey lifeand his own too, though he did not know it was grey. Every week he put aside a shilling or two towards the lump sum which was at last to make their marriage possible. It was Reuben's fight for Boarzell on an insignificant scalethough Robert, who had not so much iron in him as his father, could not resist spending money from time to time on unnecessary trifles that would give Bessie happiness. For one thing he discovered that she had never been to the Fair. She had never known the delights of riding on the merry-go-round, throwing balls at Aunt Sally, watching the shooting or the panorama. Robert resolved to take her that autumn, and bought her a pair of white cotton gloves in preparation for the day.After Mrs. Backfield and her eldest son, walked Harry and his sweetheart, Naomi Gasson. They had been sweethearts just three months, and were such a couple as romance gloats overyoung, comely, healthy, and full of love. Years had perfected the good looks of "beautiful Harry." He was a tall creature, lithe and straight as a birch tree. His face, agreeably tanned, glowed with youth, half dreamy, half riotous; his eyes[Pg 27] were wild as a colt's, and yet tender. Naomi was a fit mate for him, with a skin like milk, and hair the colour of tansy. She wore a black gown like Mrs. Backfield, but she had made it herself, and it was friendly to her, hinting all the graciousness of her immaturity. These two tried to walk dejectedly, and no doubt there was some fresh young sadness in their hearts, but every now and then their bodies would straighten with their happiness, and their eyes turn half afraid from each other's because they could not help smiling in spite of the drooped lips.
ONE:"Naomi, my darling, my love, git wellyou mustn't die and leave me." FORE:Robert, after some considering, decided to go with Bessie to Wadhurst, and ask the clergyman there exactly what they ought to do. He could easily find a room for her where she could stay till the law had been complied with. They would travel by the new railway. It would be rather alarming, but Jenny Vennal had once been to Brighton by train and said that the only thing against it was the dirt. FORE:"Because I won't."
THREE:
THREE:"My liege, in a private box in the steward's room, which, it seems, he had forgotten to lock," replied Oakley, with that propriety which he knew how to assume.

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THREE:

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THREE:Well, he had taken it nowit was too late to give it back. Besides, why should he not have it? Those ten pounds probably did not mean much to the Squire, but they meant all things to him and Bessie. He could marry her now. He could take her away, find work on some distant farm, and comfortably set up house. The possibilities of ten pounds were unlimitedat all events they could give him all he asked of life.
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    THREE:"You wudn't daur do that if I hadn't been saved!" he shouted.

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THREE:That night he lay awake long hours in the smell of apples. He pondered many things. Those past months had been sweet in their revived tenderness, their simple freedom. But Boarzell had reasserted itselfNaomi was now quite well againshe must no longer shirk her duties. She must have more children.
FORE:"By St. Nicholas!" said Tyler, "they shan't have it all their own way there;" and the Kentish men made all haste to be first to commence the work of destruction; but ere they had left the burning house, the dark body of the division of the Essex men was seen pouring into the Strand by the wall of the Convent garden."Yes," replied Black Jack, "here they are," drawing a parchment from his pocket. FORE:He went out and did a little work, but after an hour or so flung down the chicken-coop he was making, and rushed into the house. His usual question received its usual answer. He thought the doctor a hemmed fraud and the doctor thought him a damned fool. FORE:"My lord, those arrows were used in a foul purpose; and Stephen Holgrave will never disgrace his hand by using them again. The time may come, my lord, when the malicious coward who stole them shall rue this day!"
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sang the sailor sentimentally. His arm crept up from her waist to her shoulder and lay heavy there. They strolled on along the narrow path, and the darkness stole down on them from the Moor, wrapping them softly together. They told each other their nameshis was Joe Dansay, and he was a sailorman of Rye, who had been on many voyages to South America and the Coral Seas. He looked about twenty-five, though he was tanned and weather-beaten all over. His eyes were dark and foreign-looking, so was his hair. His mouth was a trifle too wide, his nose short and stubborn.The Sluice at Scott's Floatand then drive on to DoverAlbert could not help a grudging admiration of his father. Reuben could be angry and fling threats, and yet keep at the same time a certain splendour, which no[Pg 139] violence or vulgarity could dim. The boy, in spite of his verses, which were execrable enough, had a poet's eye for the splendid, and he could not be blind to the qualities of his father's tyranny, even though that tyranny crushed him at times. Reuben was now forty-three; a trifle heavier in build, perhaps, but otherwise as fine and straight a man as he had been at twenty. His clear brown skin, keen eyes, thick coal-black hair, his height, his strength, his dauntless spirit, could not fail to impress one in whom the sense of life and beauty was developing. Albert even once began a poem to his father:"Have you looked in the new field?"
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