Part 17 (1/2)

'As folks happen to read them just now. A hundred years hence they may be finding the very opposite meaning in them. Come, Tregarva,-- Suppose I teach you a little of the learning, and you teach me a little of the Gospel--do you think we two could mend the world between us, or even mend Whitford Priors?'

'G.o.d knows, sir,' said Tregarva.

'Tregarva,' said Lancelot, as they were landing the next trout, 'where will that Crawy go, when he dies?'

'G.o.d knows, sir,' said Tregarva.

Lancelot went thoughtful home, and sat down--not to answer Luke's letter--for he knew no answer but Tregarva's, and that, alas! he could not give, for he did not believe it, but only longed to believe it. So he turned off the subject by a question--

'You speak of yourself as being already a member of the Romish communion. How is this? Have you given up your curacy? Have you told your father? I fancy that if you had done so I must have heard of it ere now. I entreat you to tell me the state of the case, for, heathen as I am, I am still an Englishman; and there are certain old superst.i.tions still lingering among us--whencesoever we may have got them first--about truth and common honesty--you understand me.--

'Do not be angry. But there is a prejudice against the truthfulness of Romish priests and Romish converts.--It's no affair of mine. I see quite enough Protestant rogues and liars, to prevent my having any pleasure in proving Romanists, or any other persons, rogues and liars also. But I am--if not fond of you--at least sufficiently fond to be anxious for your good name. You used to be an open- hearted fellow enough. Do prove to the world that coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt.'

CHAPTER IX: HARRY VERNEY HEARS HIS LAST SHOT FIRED

The day after the Lavingtons' return, when Lancelot walked up to the Priory with a fluttering heart to inquire after all parties, and see one, he found the squire in a great state of excitement.

A large gang of poachers, who had come down from London by rail, had been devastating all the covers round, to stock the London markets by the first of October, and intended, as Tregarva had discovered, to pay Mr. Lavington's preserves a visit that night. They didn't care for country justices, not they. Weren't all their fines paid by highly respectable game-dealers at the West end? They owned three dog-carts among them; a parcel by railway would bring them down bail to any amount; they tossed their money away at the public- houses, like gentlemen; thanks to the Game Laws, their profits ran high, and when they had swept the country pretty clean of game, why, they would just finish off the season by a stray highway robbery or two, and vanish into Babylon and their native night.

Such was Harry Verney's information as he strutted about the courtyard waiting for the squire's orders.

'But they've put their nose into a furze-bush, Muster Smith, they have. We've got our posse-commontaturs, fourteen men, sir, as'll play the whole vale to cricket, and whap them; and every one'll fight, for they're half poachers themselves, you see' (and Harry winked and chuckled); 'and they can't abide no interlopers to come down and take the sport out of their mouths.'

'But are you sure they'll come to-night?'

'That 'ere Paul says so. Wonder how he found out--some of his underhand, colloguing, Methodist ways, I'll warrant. I seed him preaching to that 'ere Crawy, three or four times when he ought to have hauled him up. He consorts with them poachers, sir, uncommon.

I hope he ben't one himself, that's all.'

'Nonsense, Harry!'

'Oh? Eh? Don't say old Harry don't know nothing, that's all. I've fixed his flint, anyhow.'

'Ah! Smith!' shouted the squire out of his study window, with a cheerful and appropriate oath. 'The very man I wanted to see! You must lead these keepers for me to-night. They always fight better with a gentleman among them. Breeding tells, you know--breeding tells.'

Lancelot felt a strong disgust at the occupation, but he was under too many obligations to the squire to refuse.

'Ay, I knew you were game,' said the old man. 'And you'll find it capital fun. I used to think it so, I know, when I was young. Many a s.h.i.+ndy have I had here in my uncle's time, under the very windows, before the chase was disparked, when the fellows used to come down after the deer.'

Just then Lancelot turned and saw Argemone standing close to him.

He almost sprang towards her--and retreated, for he saw that she had overheard the conversation between him and her father.

'What! Mr. Smith!' said she in a tone in which tenderness and contempt, pity and affected carelessness, were strangely mingled.

'So! you are going to turn gamekeeper to-night?'