Baring-Gould Sabine
Eve
CHAPTER L.
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 manœuvre 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.’
CHAPTER LI.
A SHOT
‘Of all things I could have desired – the best!’ exclaimed Martin Babb as Eve came from the cover of the wood upon the rocky floor. She was out of breath, and could not speak. She put both hands on her breast to control her breathing and quiet her throbbing heart.
Martin drew one foot over the other, poising it on the toe, and allowed the yellow firelight to play over his handsome face and fine form. The appreciative eye was there. ‘Lovelier than ever!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Preciosa come to the forest to Alonzo, not Alonzo to Preciosa.’
The forest green!
Where warm the summer sheen;
And echo calls,
And calls – through leafy halls.
Hurrah for the life ‘neath the greenwood tree!
My horn and my dogs and my gun for me!
Trarah! Trarah! Trarah!’
He sang the first verse of the gipsy chorus with rich tones. He had a beautiful voice, and he knew it.
The song had given her time to obtain breath, and she said, ‘Oh, Martin, you must go – you must indeed!’
‘Why, my Preciosa?’
‘My father knows all – how, I cannot conjecture, but he does know, and he will not spare you.’
‘My sweet flower,’ said Martin, not in the least alarmed, ‘the old gentleman cannot hurt me. He cannot himself fetch the dogs of justice and set them on me; and he cannot send for them without your consent. There is plenty of time for me to give them the slip. All is arranged. To-night I leave on Jasper’s horse, which he is good enough to lend me.’
‘You do not know my father. He is not alone – Mr. Coyshe is with him. I cannot answer for what he may do.’
‘Hah!’ said Martin, ‘I see! Jealousy may spur him on. He knows that we are rivals. Watt, be off with you after the horse. Perhaps it would be better if I were to depart. I would not spare that pill-compounding Coyshe were he in my power, and I cannot expect him to spare me.’ He spoke, and his action was stagy, calculated to impress Eve.
‘My dear Walter,’ said Martin, ‘go to Morwell some other way than the direct path; workmen may be about – the hour is not so late.’
The boy did not wait for further orders.
‘You need not fear for me,’ said the escaped convict. ‘Even if that despicable roll-pill set off to collect men, I would escape him. I have but to leave this spot, and I am safe. I presume not one of my pursuers will be mounted.’
‘Why have you a fire here?’
‘The fire matters nothing,’ said Martin grandly; ‘indeed’ – he collected more fircones and threw them on – ’indeed, if the form of the hare is to be discovered, let it be discovered warm. The hunters will search the immediate neighbourhood, and the hare will be flying far, far away.’
‘You know best, of course; but it seems to me very dangerous.’
‘I laugh at danger!’ exclaimed Martin, throwing a faggot on the flames. ‘I disport in danger as the seamew in the storm.’ He unfolded his arms and waved them over the fire as a bird flapping its wings.
‘And now,’ he went on, ‘I leave you —you– to that blood-letter. Why do I trouble myself about my own worthless existence, when you are about to fall a prey to his ravening jaw? No, Eve, that must never be.’
‘Martin,’ said Eve, ‘I must really go home. I only ran here to warn you to be off, and to tell you something. My father has just said that my mother was your sister.’
He looked at her in silence for some moments in real astonishment – so real that he dropped his affected attitude and expression of face.
‘Can this be possible!’
‘He declared before Mr. Coyshe and me that it was so.’
‘You have the same name as my lost sister,’ said Martin. ‘Her I hardly remember. She ran away from home when I was very young, and what became of her we never heard. If my father knew, he was silent about his knowledge. I am sure Jasper did not know.’
‘And Mr. Barret, the manager, did not know either,’ added Eve. ‘When my mother was with him she bore a feigned name, and said nothing about her parents, nor told where was her home.’
Then Martin recovered himself and laughed.
‘Why, Eve,’ said he, ‘if this extraordinary story be true, I am your uncle and natural protector. This has settled the matter. You shall never have that bolus-maker, leech-applier, Coyshe. I forbid it. I shall stand between you and the altar of sacrifice. I extend my wing, and you take refuge under it. I throw my mantle over you and assure you of my protection. The situation is really – really quite dramatic.’
‘Do not stand so near the edge of the precipice,’ pleaded Eve.
‘I always stand on the verge of precipices, but never go over,’ he answered. ‘I speak metaphorically. Now, Eve, the way is clear. You shall run away from home as did your mother, and you shall run away with me. Remember, I am your natural protector.’
‘I cannot – I cannot indeed.’ Eve shrank back.
‘I swear you shall,’ said Martin impetuously. ‘It may seem strange that I, who am in personal danger myself, should consider you: but such is my nature – I never regard self when I can do an heroic action. I say, Eve, you shall go with me. I am a man with a governing will, to which all must stoop. You have trifled with the doctor and with me. I hate that man though I have never seen him. I would he were here and I would send him, spectacles and all – ’
‘He does not wear spectacles.’
‘Do not interrupt. I speak symbolically. Spectacles and all, I repeat, with his bottles of leeches, and pestle and mortar, and pills and lotions, over the edge of this precipice into perdition. Good heavens! if I leave and you remain, I shall be coming back – I cannot keep away. If I escape, it must be with you or not at all. You have a horse of your own: you shall ride with me. You have a purse: fill it and bring it in your pocket. Diamonds, silver spoons – anything.’
She was too frightened to know what to say. He, coward and bully as he was, saw his advantage, and assumed the tone of bluster. ‘Do you understand me? I will not be trifled with. The thing is settled: you come with me.’
‘I cannot – indeed I cannot,’ said Eve despairingly.
‘You little fool! Think of what you saw in the theatre. That is the proper sphere for you, as it is for me. You were born to live on the stage. I am glad you have told me what became of my sister. The artistic instinct is in us. The fire of genius is in our hearts. You cannot drag out life in such a hole as this: you must come into the world. It was so with your mother. Whose example can you follow better than that of a mother?’
‘My father would – ’
‘Your father will not be surprised. What is born in the bone comes out in the flesh. If your mother was an actress – you must be one also. Compare yourself with your half-sister. Is there soul in that mass of commonplace? Is there fire in that cake? Her mother, you may be certain, was a pudding – a common vulgar suet-pudding. We beings of Genius belong to another world, and we must live in that world or perish. It is settled. You ride with me to-night. I shall introduce you to the world of art, and you will soon be its most brilliant star.’
‘Hark!’ exclaimed Eve, starting. ‘I heard something stir.’
Both were silent, and listened. They stood opposite each other, near the edge of the precipice. The darkness had closed in rapidly. The cloudy sky cut off the last light of day. Far, far below, the river cast up at one sweep a steely light, but for the most part of its course it was lost in the inky murkiness of the shadows of mountain, forest, and rock.
Away at a distance of several miles, on the side of the dark dome of Hingston Hill, a red star was glimmering – the light from a miner’s or moorman’s cabin. The fire that flickered on the platform cast flashes of gold on the nearest oak boughs, but was unable to illumine the gulf of darkness that yawned under the forest trees.
Martin stood facing the wood, with his back to the abyss, and the light irradiated his handsome features. Eve timidly looked at him, and thought how noble he seemed.
‘Was it the sound of a horse’s hoof you heard?’ asked Martin. ‘Walter is coming with Jasper’s horse.’
‘I thought a bush moved,’ answered Eve, ‘and that I heard a click.’
‘It is nothing,’ said Martin, ‘nothing but an attempt on your part to evade the force of my argument, to divert the current of my speech. You women squirm like eels. There is no holding you save by running a stick through your gills. Mind you, I have decided your destiny. It will be my pride to make a great actress of you. What applause you will gain! What a life of merriment you will lead! I shall take a pride in the thought that I have snatched you away from under the nose of that doctor. Pshaw!’ – he paused – ’pshaw! I do not believe that story about your mother being my sister. Whether she were or not matters nothing. You, like myself, have a soul, and a soul that cannot live on a farmyard dungheap. What is that! I hear a foot on the bracken. Can it be Watt?’
He was silent, listening. He began to feel uneasy. Then from behind the wood came the shrill clangour of a bell.
‘Something has happened,’ said Eve, in great terror. ‘That is the alarm bell of our house.’
‘My God!’ cried Martin, ‘what is Watt about! He ought to have been here.’ In spite of his former swagger he became uneasy. ‘Curse him, for a dawdle! am I going to stick here till taken because he is lazy? That bell is ringing still.’ It was pealing loud and fast. ‘I shall leave this rock. If I were taken again I should never escape more. Seven years! seven years in prison – why, the best part of my life would be gone, and you – I should see you no more. When I came forth you would be Mrs. Sawbones. I swear by God that shall not be. Eve! I will not have it. If I get off, you shall follow me. Hark! I hear the tramp of the horse.’
He threw up his hands and uttered a shout of joy. He ran forward to the fire, and stood by it, with the full glare of the blazing fircones on his eager face.
‘Eve! joy, joy! here comes help. I will make you mount behind me. We will ride away together. Come, we must meet Watt at the gate.’
A crack, a flash.
Martin staggered back, and put his hand to his breast. Eve fell to her knees in speechless terror.
‘Come here,’ he said hoarsely, and grasped her arm. ‘It is too late: I am struck, I am done for.’
A shout, and a man was seen plunging through the bushes.
‘Eve!’ said Martin, ‘I will not lose you.’ He dragged her two paces in his arms. All power of resistance was gone from her. ‘That doctor shall not have you – I’ll spoil that at least.’ He stooped, kissed her lips and cheek and brow and eyes, and in a moment flung himself, with her in his arms, over the edge of the precipice into the black abyss.
