The engravings were really very good; Felise said so.
“Important to raise aspirations, you see,” said Cornleigh. “Textile fabrics” (recurring to his speech), “manufactures, trade—hum—ha—hum—supported by agriculture. Hope you will help us, Miss Goring.”
“Mr. Cornleigh, I think the poor people need something to eat more than they do pictures,” replied Felise.
“Heard you were very charitable,” said Cornleigh. “Here’s sovereign.” laying the coin on the pictures. “Oblige me—give someone you know.” Then turning to Martial: “Sorry you can’t get on—no need to leave—see steward—arrangements can be made about the farm. Really didn’t know myself—anything wrong.”
“I am much obliged,” said Martial, “but I must decline; I have determined to have nothing more to do with farming under present conditions.”
“Mistake somewhere,” said Cornleigh—“mistake—think it over—come and see me—will speak to steward—put it right.”
This in spite of Martial’s speech! It can hardly be supposed that the Squire was really so obtuse as not to have felt the point of the remarks Martial made at the meeting, and yet it was always difficult to tell whether he did or did not understand anything. Perhaps Letitia had begun to be alarmed at the loss of income as farmer after farmer quitted his tenancy, and had determined that Martial should stay as an instance of a landlord’s clemency and conciliation. Doubtless she had been talking to the Squire about it. As was observed at the Maasbury meeting, now the rents are diminishing it is remarkable how the landlord fawns on the tenant.
“I cannot turn back,” said Martial. “Thank you very much, but I have made up my mind.”
“Abner!” cried Felise; “why, there’s Abner!”
He was walking across the garden; she beckoned to him, and he came to the window.
“Why, that’s the man—yesterday before me—police withdrew charge. Sad case. Give him sovereign—eh!”—Cornleigh offered a picture and the sovereign on it to the labourer.
“Not from you, Squire,” said Abner. “I can’t take nothing from you.”
At that moment Robert Godwin burst in among them, followed by the village constable. Godwin’s coat was torn and his face scratched, for he had forced his way through the hedges in his frenzied state; he was, too, soaking wet, having waded across the stream. When he rushed from the barn he ran and walked miles in a straight line, regardless of obstacles; presently he came back and got the policeman.
XXVII
They all rose at this sudden interruption.
“Arrest him!” said Godwin, pointing to Martial.
“Arrest! What do you mean?” said Mr. Goring.
“I—I—ha—ha—hum!” said Cornleigh.
“That’s the man—take him! Where’s your handcuffs?” shouted Godwin.
“On what charge?” said Mr. Goring.
“On what charge?” asked Cornleigh, naturally repeating, as he had done for so many years.
“I charge him with attempted murder—he fired at me! come, seize him!”
—Godwin thrust the policeman forward; the constable hesitated and looked towards the magistrate for instructions.
“I charge you with the most brutal assault,” said Martial. “You tried to make the horse trample on Felise”—he held Felise’s arm as if it were necessary to protect her even there, “I say arrest him!” shouted Godwin. “Quick—the handcuffs!”
Martial stepped forward with flushed face, but Mr. Goring intervened and held him back.
“Robert Godwin, leave this house!” he cried sternly.
“Leave the house!” repeated Cornleigh.
“He is a spendthrift rascal!” shouted Godwin, pushing to get past Goring, and so at Martial.
Martial tried to get at the fellow. “Keep them apart!” cried Goring.
“Keep them apart!” cried Cornleigh, seizing Godwin’s right arm, while the constable held his left.
“You ruined your cousins—you have brought the Miss Barnards to ruin! You have wasted your substance—you spendthrift rascal!” screamed the steward.
“Martial—Martial!” cried Felise; “don’t, dear! don’t strike him—he is insane!”
Martial ceased to press towards the intruder, but Godwin, in his ungovernable fury, dragged Cornleigh and the constable by main force past the window. From the window a stern hand seized the steward’s collar—it was Abner. Godwin turned fiercely towards him.
“You be the man as killed my Mary,” said Abner.
“Liar!”
“ ’Twas through you and he” (nodding towards Cornleigh) “as she jumped in the mill-pool. Thank you, miss, for the oak coffin as you give her. Measter Godwin, you knows what you said to Mary in the field once.”
With a great effort Godwin forced himself free from Cornleigh and the constable, upsetting some flowers in the window; he struck wildly at Abner as he passed—Abner drew back and let the blow expend itself—and rushed at Martial. Felise sprang in front of Martial and received a skirting blow on her arm; she cried out. Martial, Mr. Goring, Cornleigh, and the constable together seized the madman.
Yet such was his immense strength that he dragged them to and fro—he swung them to and fro—the table cracked as their weight pressed on it, the partition-wall trembled as they came against it. Felise beckoned Abner—he ran in and helped. At last the paroxysm decreased; the four of them held Godwin somewhat still, but he continued to shout forth accusations at Martial, They pinioned him against the wall; he ground his teeth and foamed at the mouth, his face was black as night, his colourless eyes glared at Felise.
“You gave him the horse as a present,” he panted. “Disgraceful! You gave him Ruy as a present, and he—he—he jilted Rosa Wood. He did—there—he was engaged to her—he jilted her!”
“He did not,” said a voice, and Rosa Wood entered. She had knocked several times, but no one answered, and, hearing voices, she had ventured to enter. “He did not. My father broke off the engagement. It was not Martial.”
“I say arrest him!” shouted Godwin, again struggling.
“You are excited—wait till tomorrow,” said Mr. Goring, hoping to reason with him.
“Wait till tomorrow,” repeated Cornleigh.
“What—you?” cried the steward, as if at last recognising his employer.
“You are excited,” repeated Cornleigh.
“What!” cried Godwin, as if this was too much; that the man he had served so long should turn against and hold him.
“Wait till
