Felise was still dwelling upon Martial’s trouble, when in the morning she took half a dozen apples from the storeroom, and started over to see Ruy. Mr. Goring was choice in apples. His trees were famous; he had all kinds, some that would keep till the autumn came twice.
As she went out Felise noticed several women of the hamlet standing in a group in the private roadway, each carrying a bucket. They were talking and gesticulating; they curtsied, but Felise did not stay to talk with them.
Farther along the path she met four or five more, also carrying buckets; one of these being Shaw’s mother, presumed upon that connection to stand in front of Felise, and begin abusing Mr. Robert Godwin.
What was the matter now? asked Felise, full of her own thoughts and not in the mood to listen to grievances.
Matter enough—Godwin had railed in and padlocked the hamlet spring, and they could not get at it. True, the stream ran past the hamlet, but it was very shallow; and, till a dipping-place was constructed, it was not easy to get water from it unless they went half a mile to the first pool. Half a mile is a long way to stagger under a yoke in hot summer weather.
The railings round the spring had been in process of erection for a fortnight; they were high, and not to be climbed. But the carpenters were either in ignorance themselves, or had been bribed to conceal the truth, for it had been given out that these railings were only erected to prevent cattle from soiling the pure water. There would be a wicket-gate for the folk.
At the last moment, instead of a gate the opening was nailed up, and the spring completely enclosed. A placard was posted announcing that the spring was private, and warning all whom it might concern that damage to the fencing would be visited with the utmost rigour of the law—Mr. Robert Godwin’s latest movement in the interest of his employer. If usage was established, the property might suffer at some future time.
Like a flock of sheep who cannot get through a gateway, the village women crowded round outside the high railings through which they could see the spring, set down their buckets, and fell to abuse.
By-and-by a man came along; and, after deliberately inspecting the railings, shaking them to see if they were sound, and spelling through the placard, he advised them to go to Mr. Goring—the general refuge in difficulty.
Away they went accordingly to Mr. Goring, who at once threw open his gates, and told all to help themselves from the pump, which was supplied with good water from the same source as the spring.
He then put on his coat, being usually in his snowy shirtsleeves in summer, had the pony harnessed, and drove away into the town to consult with his lawyer as to the legality of this encroachment.
Robert Godwin’s real object in enclosing the spring was known only to himself—it was to spite and annoy Felise’s nearest friend. The path to the spring was so short it could scarcely be said to trespass on the Squire’s property—that was only the pretence. Well he knew that nothing would so excite Mr. Goring’s indignation as so wanton a piece of tyranny. That Goring would at once take an axe and proceed to hew down the railings was what he fully hoped and expected. Such an act would involve Felise’s friend in endless litigation—such was the trap he had set.
But Mr. Goring did not fall into it. A man of a reflective mind, he had heard of these posts and railings, and soon began to question the motive alleged for their erection. Measures for the convenience and good of others, like protecting water from contamination, were not in accordance with the recent history of the Cornleigh estate. He suspected what afterwards happened. His indignation was none the less; but he was cool, and he did not seize his axe and rush to destroy the obstruction. It was best to go about the work calmly and legally; even with a good cause, and right on our side, violence often recoils upon the striker.
Martial—Martial—the thought of Martial compelled Felise to shut her eyes to these things. If Robert Godwin had been the cruellest tyrant since the world began, she must have gone that morning to see Martial’s horse, and if possible to learn more about his former owner.
“I want to see your horse again,” said Felise, almost immediately she arrived.
Robert led Ruy out for her inspection down to the garden, where his hoofs trampled the sward of the path.
XXIV
Felise gave Ruy an apple, and then another till the six were gone. He thrust his nostrils into her hand, and pushed her with his face for more. As he moved it brought Robert, who held him, close to Felise. Once again he felt the caress of her dress, even the touch of her arm.
The contrast between them was very marked. Her clear complexion, her golden hair; her form so beautifully shaped that even the loveliness of her face was overlooked. You must forget her form before you could see her features.
His black countenance—black like a piece of wood that has lain for years in the rain; his colourless eye; his round stout frame expressive of ungraceful strength.
But Ruy, greedy for more apples, would not stand still. Robert lost the touch of her arm, and the caress of her dress.
“He is a fine horse,” said Felise; “I cannot understand why his owner sold him. Did you not say he wanted money?”
“His rent was overdue,” said Robert. At ordinary times he would not have let this out; at the moment he was abstracted from himself to such a degree that his lips answered without the consent of his mind. “His Lady Day rent was overdue—and—and I
