CHAPTER IX. BRIARMAINS.
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中
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Messrs.HelstoneandSykesbegantobeextremelyjocoseandcongratulatorywithMr.Moorewhenhereturnedtothemafterdismissingthedeputation.Hewassoquiet,however,undertheircomplimentsuponhisfirmness,etc.,andworeacountenancesolikeastill,darkday,equallybeamlessandbreezeless,thattherector,afterglancingshrewdlyintohiseyes,buttoneduphisfelicitationswithhiscoat,andsaidtoSykes,whosesenseswerenotacuteenoughtoenablehimtodiscoverunassistedwherehispresenceandconversationwereanuisance,"Come,siryourroadandmineliepartlytogether.Hadwenotbetterbeareachothercompany?We'llbidMooregood-morning,andleavehimtothehappyfanciesheseemsdisposedtoindulge."
"AndwhereisSugden?"demandedMoore,lookingup.
"Ah,ha!"criedHelstone."I'venotbeenquiteidlewhileyouwerebusy.I'vebeenhelpingyoualittleIflattermyselfnotinjudiciously.Ithoughtitbetternottolosetimeso,whileyouwereparleyingwiththatdown-lookinggentleman—FarrenIthinkhisnameis—Iopenedthisbackwindow,shoutedtoMurgatroyd,whowasinthestable,tobringMr.Sykes'sgigroundthenIsmuggledSugdenandbrotherMoses—woodenlegandall—throughtheaperture,andsawthemmountthegig(alwayswithourgoodfriendSykes'spermission,ofcourse).Sugdentookthereins—hedriveslikeJehu—andinanotherquarterofanhourBarracloughwillbesafeinStilbro'jail."
"Verygoodthankyou,"saidMoore"andgood-morning,gentlemen,"headded,andsopolitelyconductedthemtothedoor,andsawthemclearofhispremises.
Hewasataciturn,seriousmantherestoftheday.HedidnotevenbandyareparteewithJoeScott,who,forhispart,saidtohismasteronlyjustwhatwasabsolutelynecessarytotheprogressofbusiness,butlookedathimagooddealoutofthecornersofhiseyes,frequentlycametopokethecounting-housefireforhim,andonce,ashewaslockingupfortheday(themillwasthenworkingshorttime,owingtotheslacknessoftrade),observedthatitwasagrandevening,andhe"couldwishMr.Mooretotakeabitofawalkupth'Hollow.Itwoulddohimgood."
AtthisrecommendationMr.Mooreburstintoashortlaugh,andafterdemandingofJoewhatallthissolicitudemeant,andwhetherhetookhimforawomanorachild,seizedthekeysfromhishand,andshovedhimbytheshouldersoutofhispresence.Hecalledhimback,however,erehehadreachedtheyard-gate.
"Joe,doyouknowthoseFarrens?Theyarenotwelloff,Isuppose?"
"Theycannotbewelloff,sir,whenthey'venothadworkasathreemonth.Ye'dseeyoursel''atWilliam'ssorelychanged—fairpaired.They'veselledmosto't'stuffouto'th'house."
"Hewasnotabadworkman?"
"Yeneverhadabetter,sir,sin'yebegantrade."
"Anddecentpeople—thewholefamily?"
"Niverdacenter.Th'wife'saraightcantbody,andasclean—yemughteatyourporridgeoffth'housefloor.They'resorelycomeddown.IwishWilliamcouldgetajobasgardenerorsummati'thatwayheunderstandsgardeningweel.Heoncelivedwi'aScotchmanthattachedhimthemysterieso'thatcraft,astheysay."
"Now,then,youcango,Joe.Youneednotstandtherestaringatme."
"Ye'venoorderstogive,sir?"
"None,butforyoutotakeyourselfoff."
WhichJoedidaccordingly.
Springeveningsareoftencoldandraw,andthoughthishadbeenafineday,warmeveninthemorningandmeridiansunshine,theairchilledatsunset,thegroundcrisped,andereduskahoarfrostwasinsidiouslystealingovergrowinggrassandunfoldingbud.ItwhitenedthepavementinfrontofBriarmains(Mr.Yorke'sresidence),andmadesilenthavocamongthetenderplantsinhisgarden,andonthemossylevelofhislawn.Astothatgreattree,strong-trunkedandbroad-armed,whichguardedthegablenearesttheroad,itseemedtodefyaspring-nightfrosttoharmitsstillbareboughsandsodidtheleaflessgroveofwalnut-treesrisingtallbehindthehouse.
Intheduskofthemoonlessifstarrynight,lightsfromwindowsshonevividly.Thiswasnodarkorlonelyscene,norevenasilentone.Briarmainsstoodnearthehighway.Itwasratheranoldplace,andhadbeenbuilterethathighwaywascut,andwhenalanewindingupthroughfieldswastheonlypathconductingtoit.Briarfieldlayscarceamileoffitshumwasheard,itsglaredistinctlyseen.BriarChapel,alarge,new,rawWesleyanplaceofworship,rosebutahundredyardsdistantandastherewasevennowaprayer-meetingbeingheldwithinitswalls,theilluminationofitswindowscastabrightreflectionontheroad,whileahymnofamostextraordinarydescription,suchasaveryQuakermightfeelhimselfmovedbytheSpirittodanceto,rousedcheerilyalltheechoesofthevicinage.Thewordsweredistinctlyaudiblebysnatches.Hereisaquotationortwofromdifferentstrainsforthesingerspassedjauntilyfromhymntohymnandfromtunetotune,withaneaseandbuoyancyalltheirown:—
"Oh!whocanexplain
Thisstruggleforlife,
Thistravailandpain,
Thistremblingandstrife?
Plague,earthquake,andfamine,
Andtumultandwar,
Thewonderfulcoming
OfJesusdeclare!
"Foreveryfight
Isdreadfulandloud:
Thewarrior'sdelight
Isslaughterandblood,
Hisfoesoverturning,
Tillallshallexpire:
Andthisiswithburning,
Andfuel,andfire!"
Herefollowedanintervalofclamorousprayer,accompaniedbyfearfulgroans.Ashoutof"I'vefoundliberty!""Doado'Bill'shasfun'liberty!"rangfromthechapel,andoutalltheassemblybrokeagain.
"Whatamercyisthis!
Whataheavenofbliss!
HowunspeakablyhappyamI!
Gatheredintothefold,
WithThypeopleenrolled,
WithThypeopletoliveandtodie!
"Oh,thegoodnessofGod
Inemployingaclod
Histributeofglorytoraise
Hisstandardtobear,
Andwithtriumphdeclare
Hisunspeakablerichesofgrace!
"Oh,thefathomlesslove
Thathasdeignedtoapprove
Andprospertheworkofmyhands.
Withmypastoralcrook
Iwentoverthebrook,
AndbeholdIamspreadintobands!
"Who,Iaskinamaze,
Hathbegottenmethese?
Andinquirefromwhatquartertheycame.
Myfullheartitreplies,
Theyarebornfromtheskies,
AndgivesglorytoGodandtheLamb!"
Thestanzawhichfollowedthis,afteranotherandlongerinterregnumofshouts,yells,ejaculations,franticcries,agonizedgroans,seemedtocaptheclimaxofnoiseandzeal.
"Sleepingonthebrinkofsin,
Tophetgapedtotakeusin
Mercytoourrescueflew,
Brokethesnare,andbroughtusthrough.
"Here,asinalion'sden,
Undevouredwestillremain,
Passsecurethewateryflood,
HangingonthearmofGod.
"Here——"
(Terrible,mostdistractingtotheear,wasthestrainedshoutinwhichthelaststanzawasgiven.)
"Hereweraiseourvoiceshigher,
Shoutintherefiner'sfire,
Clapourhandsamidsttheflame,
GlorygivetoJesus'name!"
Theroofofthechapeldidnotflyoff,whichspeaksvolumesinpraiseofitssolidslating.
ButifBriarChapelseemedalive,soalsodidBriarmains,thoughcertainlythemansionappearedtoenjoyaquieterphaseofexistencethanthetemple.Someofitswindowstoowereaglowthelowercasementsopeneduponthelawncurtainsconcealedtheinterior,andpartlyobscuredtherayofthecandleswhichlitit,buttheydidnotentirelymufflethesoundofvoiceandlaughter.Weareprivilegedtoenterthatfrontdoor,andtopenetratetothedomesticsanctum.
ItisnotthepresenceofcompanywhichmakesMr.Yorke'shabitationlively,forthereisnonewithinitsavehisownfamily,andtheyareassembledinthatfarthestroomtotheright,thebackparlour.
Thisistheusualsitting-roomofanevening.Thosewindowswouldbeseenbydaylighttobeofbrilliantly-stainedglass,purpleandamberthepredominanthues,glitteringroundagravely-tintedmedallioninthecentreofeach,representingthesuaveheadofWilliamShakespeare,andthesereneoneofJohnMilton.SomeCanadianviewshungonthewalls—greenforestandbluewaterscenery—andinthemidstofthemblazesanight-eruptionofVesuviusveryardentlyitglows,contrastedwiththecoolfoamandazureofcataracts,andtheduskydepthsofwoods.
Thefireilluminatingthisroom,reader,issuchas,ifyoubeasouthern,youdonotoftenseeburningonthehearthofaprivateapartment.Itisaclear,hotcoalfire,heapedhighintheamplechimney.Mr.Yorkewillhavesuchfireseveninwarmsummerweather.Hesitsbesideitwithabookinhishand,alittleroundstandathiselbowsupportingacandlebutheisnotreading—heiswatchinghischildren.Oppositetohimsitshislady—apersonagewhomImightdescribeminutely,butIfeelnovocationtothetask.Iseeher,though,veryplainlybeforeme—alargewomanofthegravestaspect,careonherfrontandonhers