Of High Descent Part 77

"No; be off."

"Iss, Master Luke, I'll go; but you've always been a kind friend to me, and I'm going to ask a favour, sir. I'm a lone woman, and at times I feel gashly ill, and I thought if you'd got a drop of wine or sperrits--"

"To encourage you in drinking."

"Now listen to him, what hard things he can say, Master Leslie, when I'm asking for a little in a bottle to keep in the cupboard for medicine."

"Go and beg at my brother's," snarled Uncle Luke.

"How can I, sir, with them in such trouble? Give me a drop, sir; 'bout a pint in the bottom of a bottle."

"Hear her, Leslie? That's modest. What would her ideas be of a fair quant.i.ty? There, you can go, Poll Perrow. You'll get no spirits or wine from me."

"Not much, sir, only a little."

"A little? Ask some of your smuggling friends that you go to meet out beyond the East Town."

The woman's jaw dropped, and Leslie saw that a peculiar blank look of wonder came over her countenance.

"Go to meet--East Town?"

"Yes; you're always stealing out there now before daybreak. I've watched you."

"Now think of that, Master Leslie," said the woman with a forced laugh.

"I go with my basket to get a few of the big mussels yonder for bait, and he talks to me like that. There, see," she continued, swinging round her basket and taking out a handful of the sh.e.l.lfish, "that's the sort, sir. Let me leave you a few, Master Luke Vine."

"I don't believe you, Poll. It would not be the first time you were in a smuggling game. Remember that month in prison?"

"Don't be hard on a poor woman," said Poll. "It was only for hiding a few kegs of brandy for a poor man."

"Yes, and you're doing it again. I shall just say a word to the coastguard, and tell them to have an eye on some of the caves yonder."

"No, no: don't, Master Luke, sir," cried the woman, rising excitedly, and making the sh.e.l.ls in her basket rattle. "You wouldn't be so hard as to get me in trouble."

"There, Leslie," he said with a merry laugh; "am I right? Nice, honest creature this! Cheating the revenue. If it was not for such women as this, the fishermen wouldn't smuggle."

"But it doesn't do any one a bit of harm, Master Luke, sir. You won't speak to the coastguard?"

"Indeed, but I will," cried Uncle Luke, "and have you punished. If you had been honest your daughter wouldn't have been charged with stealing down at my brother's."

"And a false charge too," cried the woman, ruffling up angrily. Then changing her manner, "Now, Master Luke, you wouldn't be so hard. Don't say a word to the coastguard."

"Not speak to them? Why, time after time I've seen you going off after some game."

"And more shame for you to watch. I didn't spy on you when you were down the town of a night, and I used to run against you in the dark lanes by the harbour."

Uncle Luke started up with his stick in his hand, and a curious grey look in his face.

"Saw--saw me!" he cried fiercely. "Why, you--but there, I will not get out of temper with such a woman. Do you hear? Go, and never come here again."

"Very well, Master Luke, sir, I'm going now," said the woman, as she adjusted the strap across her forehead; "but you won't be so hard as to speak to the coastguard. Don't sir, please."

The woman spoke in a low, appealing way, and after trying in vain to catch Luke Vine's eye, she went slowly up the hill.

"Bad lot--a bad family," muttered Uncle Luke uneasily, as he glanced sharply up at Leslie from time to time. "Good thing to rid the place of the hag. Begging at my brother's place for food and things every time I've been there. Yes. Good morning, Leslie, good morning."

He nodded shortly and went into the cottage, cutting short all further attempts at being communicative.

Leslie walked steadily back up the hill to his works, and had not been at his office five minutes before Poll Perrow's basket was creaking outside.

"I know you won't be so gashly hard on a poor woman, Master Leslie," she said. "It arn't true about me getting brandy, sir. Let me have a drop in the bottom of a bottle, sir. You'll never miss it, and you don't know what good you'll do a poor soul as wants it bad."

"Look here," said Leslie, "I'll give you some on one condition; that you do not come here again to beg."

"Not if I can help it, sir; but a well-off gentleman like you will never miss a drop. A pint will be plenty, sir, in as small a bottle as you can."

Leslie could not help laughing at the woman's impudence, but he said nothing, only went into the house and returned with a pint bottle filled with the potent spirit.

"And bless you for it, Master Leslie!" cried Poll Perrow, with her eyes sparkling. "Now, sir, only one little thing more."

"No," said Leslie, sternly. "I have given you what you asked; now go."

"I only want you to put in a word for me to Master Luke, sir. Don't let him speak to the coastguard."

"Don't be alarmed; the old man is too good-hearted to do anything of the kind. But I should advise you to give up all such practices. There: good-day."

"Good-day, and bless you, my son!" cried Poll eagerly. "I shan't forget this."

"I was foolish to give it to her," said Leslie to himself, as he watched the woman's slowly retiring figure; and then he turned his eyes in the direction of the Vines', as it stood peaceful and bright-looking on its shelf by the cliff, across the intervening valley.

"Might venture to-night. Surely they would not think it intrusive?

Yes: I will."

Duncan Leslie felt better after coming to this determination, and went busily about his work at the mine.

Poll Perrow went straight down into the little town and then up the path at the back, trudging steadily along and at a very good pace, till she saw about fifty yards in front a figure going in the same direction.

"Miss Madlin!" she said to herself. "I'd know her walk anywhere. And all in black, too. Ah!"

Poll Perrow stopped short with her mouth open.

"How horrid!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "It killed him then, after all. Poor Master Van Heldre! Poor Master Harry Vine!"

She rubbed a tear away with her rough brown hand. Then starting up, she made the mussels in her basket rattle.

"What nonsense!" she said. "Why, Master Crampton told me last night, and down the street, that Master Van Heldre was much better, and he couldn't ha' died and Miss Madlin gone in mourning since last night.

They couldn't ha' got the gownd made."