A BATTLE WITHOUT RESULTS.
WILLIAM HAWORTH had poked the fire only twice, when a sharp knock at the door announced Mrs. Gillyflower. She closed the door, having stumped in, clearing her voice, not to lose time as she did so, in such hot haste to speak was she; and she made a halt, and a “right-face,” and a courtesy.
William was very fond of old Martha, and a little henpecked by her. Her air and look embarrassed him; he was in an unpleasant suspense, and had only time to say, “Well, Martha?”
“I’m come, sir, to gie ye warning; I’ll leave you this day month, or any day sooner ye please. I a’ been lang enough in Haworth House. I shouldn’t ken the aid place, wi’ the changes that’s like to be.”
“Why, what do you mean, Martha? — what have I done?” said the Squire, standing up and opening his hands in expostulation.
“What a’ ye done, Master Willie? Well, I think when ye bring in a young fool o’ a lass like that — a young lady, I believe I’m to call her — Lady, indeed! Cow-lady (ladybird) off the moss, more like — bring her in, I say, by the hand— “
“I did not bring her in by the hand,” replied William, indignantly.
“And what has that to do wi’ the matter, Master Willie? What does it signify, sir? Not that bit o’ stick that’s burning in the peat, there. But whether ye brought her in by the hand or no, it’s plain ye should put her out by the lug.”
“Why, what the devil has she been doing?” demanded William, firing up with a stamp on the floor.
“I don’t say she’s been doin’ nout, did I? All I say’s this — and queer crack-brain’d work it is! — how does you and me know who or what she is? I won’t make a butty o’ such folk for no one; catter-waulin’ over the moss wi’ her company-keeper, mayhap — and a brave gowk they’ve made o’ you — and I’m vexed to think you’d be so dafy. Ye usedn’t to du a that lids, Master Willie — and what will the nebbers consait? — and what will the nebbers say?”
“Neighbors, indeed! I’d like to know where the neighbors are; and I give them all leave, when you can find them, to say what they please. I tell you, Martha, with your nonsense, you are enough to ruin the character of fifty men.” And as he said this, indignantly looking on her consequential face and dumpy person, his own speech was on a sudden so very near upsetting him, that he turned abruptly, and I think his shoulders shook a little.
“Listen to me,” he said, turning again, with a countenance graver than ever; “and perhaps, once for all, you’ll hear reason. Returning home, only three minutes before I knocked at the kitchen-window, I saw this young woman — I suppose she’s young, as you say so; I’m sure I don’t know — standing alone in the storm, at the Mickle Steans. I suppose the poor creature meant to pass the night there. Would it have been creditable to Haworth House, and the old name, and to you as housekeeper, if I had passed her by, and left her in the mirk and storm — to be found dead, perhaps, in the morning, within ten-score steps of our door? Do you really mean to say that, in the name of virtue, I should have left her, the young woman as you call her, in a storm like this — do you hear the windows? do you hear the noise? — without a bield to shelter her, and perhaps to be smoored in the moss? I hope there’s hardly such a monster on earth.”
“Well, you know. Don’t ye be in such a hurry. How could I know? and if, as you say, ’twas so near the door, and the night being so — I’ll no deny. But ye ought to be prudent, Master Willie; ye’re the head o’ a house now, mind, and ye’ll be looked to for example; and the apostle says — there’s a waster on yon can’le— ‘ye must not avoid evil only, but the appearance thereof.’ And I suppose she’ll no’ be puttin’ her staff here, and she’ll be gangin’ in the morning; and ’twas very unfortunate the thing should have happened so, but being as you say, I suppose it just couldn’t be helped, ye’ll no’ be makin’ a custom of it, and that’s all we can say about it, if we were to talk till doomsday.”
Had the guest of Haworth Hall been short and crooked, pitted with the smallpox, and blind of an eye, this debate upon eternal principles would, I daresay, have been spared: Mrs. Gillyflower would not have had a word to say in favor of exposing young women, for whole nights together, to storms in the dark; and the ancient rites of hospitality would not have found, perhaps, quite so passionate a vindicator William Haworth.
If feminine beauty be, in general, a letter of recommendation, it is also, with the gentler sex, a challenge and an alarm. It is only a different acknowledgment of the power of the talisman.
He laughed to himself, as he poked the fire for the third time. “Certainly it is high time I should stand up for my rights a little. Good old Martha would tread down my prerogative to something very small indeed, if I allowed her to bully me as she seems to wish; in that I suppose they are all pretty much alike, but who is there like her in everything else? I could not live in this place if she went away, and she could not live away from it; she’s the last of the old people here, and she’s such an old darling! I hope, I’m sure,” he suddenly thought, “she’ll give her her breakfast in the morning.”