John Halifax, Gentleman Part 75

Then he came towards us, narrowly watching the stream. It had sunk more and more--the muddy bottom was showing plainly.

"Yes--that's it--it can be nothing else! I did not think he would have dared to do it."

"Do what, John? Who?"

"Lord Luxmore." He spoke in the smothered tones of violent pa.s.sion.

"Lord Luxmore has turned out of its course the stream that works my mill."

I tried to urge that such an act was improbable; in fact, against the law.

"Not against the law of the great against the little. Besides, he gives a decent colouring--says he only wants the use of the stream three days a week, to make fountains at Luxmore Hall. But I see what it is--I have seen it coming a whole year. He is determined to ruin me!"

John said this in much excitement. He hardly felt Muriel's tiny creeping hands.

"What does 'ruin' mean? Is anybody making father angry?"

"No, my sweet--not angry--only very, very miserable!"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed her up, and buried his head in her soft, childish bosom.

She kissed him and patted his hair.

"Never mind, dear father. You say nothing signifies, if we are only good. And father is always good."

"I wish I were."

He sat down with her on his knee; the murmur of the elm-leaves, and the slow dropping of the stream, soothed him. By and by, his spirit rose, as it always did, the heavier it was pressed down.

"No, Lord Luxmore shall not ruin me! I have thought of a scheme. But first I must speak to my people--I shall have to shorten wages for a time."

"How soon?"

"To-night. If it must be done--better done at once, before winter sets in. Poor fellows! it will go hard with them--they'll be hard upon me.

But it is only temporary; I must reason them into patience, if I can;--G.o.d knows, it is not they alone who want it."

He almost ground his teeth as he saw the sun s.h.i.+ning on the far white wing of Luxmore Hall.

"Have you no way of righting yourself? If it is an unlawful act, why not go to law?"

"Phineas, you forget my principle--only mine, however; I do not force it upon any one else--my firm principle, that I will never go to law.

Never! I would not like to have it said, in contradistinction to the old saying, 'See how these Christians FIGHT!'"

I urged no more; since, whether abstractedly the question be right or wrong, there can be no doubt that what a man believes to be evil, to him it is evil.

"Now, Uncle Phineas, go you home with Muriel. Tell my wife what has occurred--say, I will come to tea as soon as I can. But I may have some little trouble with my people here. She must not alarm herself."

No, the mother never did. She wasted no time in puerile apprehensions--it was not her nature; she had the rare feminine virtue of never "fidgetting"--at least, externally. What was to be borne--she bore: what was to be done--she did; but she rarely made any "fuss"

about either her doings or her sufferings.

To-night, she heard all my explanation; understood it, I think, more clearly than I did--probably from being better acquainted with her husband's plans and fears. She saw at once the position in which he was placed; a grave one, to judge by her countenance.

"Then you think John is right?"

"Of course I do."

I had not meant it as a question, or even a doubt. But it was pleasant to hear her thus answer. For, as I have said, Ursula was not a woman to be led blindfold, even by her husband. Sometimes they differed on minor points, and talked their differences lovingly out; but on any great question she had always this safe trust in him--that if one were right and the other wrong, the erring one was much more likely to be herself than John.

She said no more; but put the children to bed; then came downstairs with her bonnet on.

"Will you come with me, Phineas? Or are you too tired? I am going down to the mill."

She started, walking quickly--yet not so quick but that on the slope of the common she stooped to pick up a crying child, and send it home to its mother in Enderley village.

It was almost dark, and we met no one else except a young man, whom I had occasionally seen about of evenings. He was rather odd looking, being invariably m.u.f.fled up in a large cloak and a foreign sort of hat.

"Who is that, watching our mills?" said Mrs. Halifax, hastily.

I told her all I had seen of the person.

"A Papist, most likely--I mean a Catholic." (John objected to the opprobrious word "Papist.") "Mrs. Tod says there are a good many hidden hereabouts. They used to find shelter at Luxmore."

And that name set both our thoughts anxiously wandering; so that not until we reached the foot of the hill did I notice that the person had followed us almost to the mill-gates.

In his empty mill, standing beside one of its silenced looms, we found the master. He was very much dejected--Ursula touched his arm before he even saw her.

"Well, love--you know what has happened?"

"Yes, John. But never mind."

"I would not--except for my poor people."

"What do you intend doing? That which you have wished to do all the year?"

"Our wishes come as a cross to us sometimes," he said, rather bitterly.

"It is the only thing I can do. The water-power being so greatly lessened, I must either stop the mills, or work them by steam."

"Do that, then. Set up your steam-engine."

"And have all the country down upon me for destroying hand-labour? Have a new set of Luddites coming to burn my mill, and break my machinery?

That is what Lord Luxmore wants. Did he not say he would ruin me?--Worse than this--he is ruining my good name. If you had heard those poor people whom I sent away tonight! What must they, who will have short work these two months, and after that machinery-work, which they fancy is taking the very bread out of their mouths--what must they think of the master?"

He spoke--as we rarely heard John speak: as worldly cares and worldly injustice cause even the best of men to speak sometimes.

"Poor people!" he added, "how can I blame them? I was actually dumb before them to-night, when they said I must take the cost of what I do--they must have bread for their children. But so must I for mine.

Lord Luxmore is the cause of all."

Here I heard--or fancied I heard--out of the black shadow behind the loom, a heavy sigh. John and Ursula were too anxious to notice it.

"Could anything be done?" she asked. "Just to keep things going till your steam-engine is ready? Will it cost much?"