Barbara Lynn Part 10

Yet why should she not stay? Her great-grandmother had enjoyed such occasions to the full when she was young. Why should Lucy not do the same? She might go home, bid the old woman good-night, and when the doors were barred, and the candles out, and Mistress Lynn thought she was safely in her bed, slip downstairs, and escape by the cow-house. She asked Joel what he thought of her plan.

"I'll wait for you," he said, "don't be long. But there's Barbara! She'd never consent. Stay now do, Lucy; don't go in. Let's go back to the village, and you can face the din to-morrow morning. Lay all the blame on me."

She shuddered.

"You don't know what great-grandmother's like when she's roused! But Barbara's at Ketel's Parlour. It's not likely she'll come home to-night, unless the sheep is dead. The sheep don't often die in her hands, for she looks after them as though they were sick bairns. I'll not be long, Joel."

She slipped from his arms like a child bent on mischief, laughing under her breath, yet not altogether at ease--it was no light undertaking for anyone to try and hoodwink old Mistress Lynn.

The great-grandmother looked at the clock as soon as she entered, and seemed grimly surprised at Lucy's punctuality. A cotter's wife rose from the settle and hurried away, so as to get her share of the festivities.

She had been keeping the old woman company during the girl's absence.

"Sit thee down now," said Mistress Lynn, "and tell me about the wake."

"I's so tired, great-granny," yawned Lucy.

"Tired! At your age I could dance till dawn and not be too tired to milk the kye at sunrise."

Lucy sat down with an aggrieved expression.

"If you'd let me dance till dawn I'd maybe have had the better grace to tell you about it," she replied with some spirit.

"Well, get away to bed. Thee's got a sharp tongue that it's no gert pleasure for an old woman to hear."

Lucy went upstairs, and moved about for a while, then she sat on the edge of the bed and waited. It was a tedious waiting, but she dared not creep downstairs, and let herself out by the cow-house door till there was some likelihood of her great-grandmother being asleep.

At last she thought that she might venture. She took off her shoes, and slipped noiselessly down; the stairs were made of stone, so they could not betray her by creaking. On the wall opposite the kitchen was a little round beam of light. It shone through a hole in the door, where a knot had come out. Lucy was surprised; she wondered what Mistress Lynn could be doing with a light at this hour. She put her eye to the hole and looked through. She could see the bed, and the old woman's hands, but not her face.

The candle flung a misty light on a pile of glittering coins in one withered hand. Her great-grandmother was counting them, dropping them one by one into a bag.

Lucy was riveted to the spot. She could not tear herself away, even though Joel was waiting, hidden in the copse just below the house. She could hear a faint click as the coins fell against one another. That bag was filled. The thin old hands picked up another, and poured its contents upon the quilt. Lucy watched like one fascinated. She saw her great-grandmother pick up several bags, and count many handfuls of money--some of it silver, some of it gold. She waited until the candle was put out, and she heard the curtains softly drawn. Mistress Lynn had composed herself to sleep.

Lucy opened the cow-house door and stole out into the night. A clear moon was s.h.i.+ning; the foam of the beck looked like white horses tossing in the wind, and the primroses glimmered like stars. Joel was still waiting.

"You can't say that I haven't patience," he said.

Lucy began to speak excitedly.

"I've seen such a sight, lad, such a sight! I've seen great-granny counting her money."

"I knew she'd got a store somewhere," he replied. "I wish I had! It would come in very handy just now."

"But, Joel, she's old, and when she dies----"

"We'll all be rich folk, Lucy."

"And we can be married then, lad, and put Forest Hall in trim, and be happy."

He laughed, but not very spontaneously.

"There goes a rocket over the trees," he said.

"It goes up like my hope," replied Lucy.

But the thing burst and was gone.

"Prophetic, I fear," said Joel.

When they came under the black shadow of the crag on the top of which Forest Hall was built, they paused and glanced up.

The moonlight brought the battlements into relief against the sky, and shone silvery upon the fir-tree, growing out of a niche, and sweeping the front wall with its feathery boughs. The house was very high, strange and frowning, grander than it ever looked by daylight.

Joel gripped Lucy's hand with a sudden excess of feeling.

"I'll never part with Forest Hall," he said, as though he saw in his mind's eye someone who wanted to take it from him. "I'll never sell the old place. If I go down into ruins, it shall go down into ruins with me.

We'll fall together."

"Don't talk so fiercely, Joel," replied Lucy, gently smoothing his fingers to take the strain out of their grip. "Forest Hall will some day be refurnished from cellar to garret, and you and I will live there like a pair of cooing doves. Haven't you told me so many a time?"

"Of course, Lucy," he said, relaxing.

They walked on again, and near the outskirts of the forest met Peter and his bear.

"Hulloa, what have you there?" said Joel, while the girl drew back, not caring to be caught alone with him at this time of the night.

"A lap-dog for you, Joel."

"The deuce have you! And what do you expect me to do with it?"

"Give it housing room. You've got an empty shed, haven't you?"

"Two or three. You're a rum chap!" and Joel laughed, for he could never keep his resentment in his friend's breezy presence.

"There's a good fellow. May I put Big Ben--such is his name, I'm told--into one of them?"

"Great heavens! do you want me to take the bear?"

"It's as gentle as a lamb! Would you like to see me put my head in its mouth?"

"No! lead it away, fix it where you like; but I say, Peter, you don't expect me to look after it, do you?"

"Give it lodging only! Jake's going to see to its board. Many thanks, Joel. I'm off to-morrow, but I'll be up to bid you good-bye in the morning. Come along, you limping Ursus, it's time you were abed."

CHAPTER VI

JOEL'S DARKNESS