CHAPTER XIII.
I BUY A LOOKING GLASS AT BODMIN FAIR: AND MEET WITH MR. HANNIBALTINGCOMB.
There had, indeed, been brave work on Braddock Down that 19th ofJanuary. For Sir Ralph Hopton with the Cornish grandees had made shortbusiness of Ruthen's army--driving it headlong back on Liskeard at thefirst charge, chasing it through that town, and taking 1,200 prisoners(including Sir Shilston Calmady), together with many colors, all therebel ordnance and ammunition, and most of their arms. At Liskeard,after refreshing their men, and holding next day a solemn thanksgivingto God, they divided--the Lord Mohun with Sir Ralph Hopton and ColonelGodolphin marching with the greater part of the army upon Saltash,whither Ruthen had fled and was entrenching himself; while Sir JohnBerkeley and Colonel Ashburnham, with a small party of horse anddragoons and the voluntary regiments of Sir Bevill Grenville, SirNich. Slanning, and Colonel Trevanion, turned to the northeast, towardLaunceston and Tavistock, to see what account they might render of theEarl of Stamford's army; that, however, had no stomach to await them,but posted out of the county into Plymouth and Exeter.
'Twas on this expedition that two or three of the captains I havementioned halted for an hour or more at Temple, as well to recognizeJoan's extreme meritorious service, as to thank me for the part I hadin bringing news of the Earl of Stamford's advance. For 'twas this, theyown'd, had saved them--the King's message being but an exhortationand an advertisement upon some lesser matters, the most of which werealready taken out of human hands by the turn of events.
But though, as I learn'd, these gentlemen were full of compliments andprofessions of esteem, I neither saw nor heard them, being by this timedelirious of a high fever that followed my wound. And not till threegood weeks after, was I recover'd enough to leave my bed, nor, for manymore, did my full strength return to me. No mother could have made atenderer nurse than was Joan throughout this time. 'Tis to her I owe itthat I am alive to write these words: and if the tears scald my eyes asI do so, you will pardon them, I promise, before the end of my tail isreach'd.
In the first days of my recovery, news came to us (I forget how) thata solemn sacrament had been taken between the parties in Devon andCornwall, and the country was a peace. Little I cared, at the time: butwas content--now spring was come--to loiter about the tors, and whilewatching Joan at her work, to think upon Delia. For, albeit I had littlehope to see her again, my late pretty comrade held my thoughts the daylong. I shared them with nobody: for tho' 'tis probable I had let somewords fall in my delirium, Joan never hinted at this, and I never foundout.
To Joan's company I was left: for her father, after saving my life thatafternoon, took no further notice of me by word or deed; and the cat,Jan Tergagle (nam'd after a spirit that was said to haunt the moorshereabouts), was as indifferent. So with Joan I passed the days idly,tending the sheep, or waiting on her as she ploughed, or lying fulllength on the hillside and talking with her of war and battles. 'Twasthe one topic on which she was curious (scoffing at me when I offered toteach her to read print), and for hours she would listen to storiesof Alexander and Hannibal, Caesar and Joan of Arc, and other greatcommanders whose history I remember'd.
One evening--'twas early in May--we had climb'd to the top of thegrey tor above Temple, whence we could spy the white sails of the twoChannels moving, and, stretch'd upon the short turf there, I was tellingmy usual tale. Joan lay beside me, her chin propp'd on one earth-stain'dhand, her great solemn eyes wide open as she listened. Till that momentI had regarded her rather as a man comrade than a girl, but now somefeminine trick of gesture awoke me perhaps, for my fancy began tocontrast her with Delia, and I broke off my story and sigh'd.
"Art longing to be hence?" she asked.
I felt ashamed to be thus caught, and was silent. She look'd at me andwent on--
"Speak out, lad."
"Loth would I be to leave you, Joan."
"And why?"
"Why, we are good friends, I hope: and I am grateful."
"Oh, aye--wish thee'd learn to speak the truth, Jack. Art longing to behence, and shalt--soon."
"Why, Joan, you would not have me dwell here always?"
She made no answer for a while, and then with a change of tone--
"Shalt ride wi' me to Bodmin Fair to-morrow for a treat, an' see theGreat Turk and the Fat 'Ooman and hocus-pocus. So tell me more 'boutJoan the Frenchwoman."
On the morrow, about nine in the morning, we set off--Joan on thestrawberry, balanced easily on an old sack, which was all her saddle;and I on Molly, that now was sound again and chafing to be so idle. Aswe set out, Joan's father for the first time took some notice of me,standing at the door to see us off and shouting after us to bring homesome account of the wrestling. Looking back at a quarter mile's distanceI saw him still fram'd in the doorway, with the cat perch'd on hisshoulder.
Bodmin town is naught but a narrow street, near on a mile long, andwidening toward the western end. It lies mainly along the south side ofa steep vale, and this May morning as Joan and I left the moors and rodedown to it from northward, already we could hear trumpets blowing, thebig drum sounding, and all the bawling voices and hubbub of the fair.Descending, we found the long street lin'd with booths and shows, andnigh blocked with the crowd: for the revel began early and was now infull swing. And the crew of gipsies, whifflers, mountebanks, fortunetellers, cut-purses and quacks, mix'd up with honest country faces, beateven the rabble I had seen at Wantage.
Now my own first business was with a tailor: for the clothes I worewhen I rode into Temple, four months back, had been so sadly messed withblood, and afterward cut, to free them from my wound, that now all thetunic I wore was of sackcloth, contrived and stitch'd together by Joan.So I made at once for a decent shop, where luckily I found a suit tofit me, one taken (the tailor said) off a very promising young gentlemanthat had the misfortune to be kill'd on Braddock Down. Arrayed in this,I felt myself again, and offered to take Joan to see the Fat Woman.
We saw her, and the Aethiop, and the Rhinoceros (which put me in mindof poor Anthony Killigrew), and the Pig-fac'd Baby, and the Cudgel play;and presently halted before a Cheap Jack, that was crying his wares in aprodigious loud voice, near the town wall.
'Twas a meagre, sharp-visag'd fellow with a grey chin beard like a billygoat's; and (as fortune would have it) spying our approach, hepicked out a mirror from his stock and holding it aloft, addressed usstraight--
"What have we here," cries he, "but a pair o' lovers coming? and whati' my hand but a lover's hourglass? Sure the stars of heav'n must have ahand in this conjuncture--and only thirteen pence, my pretty fellow, fora glass that will tell the weather i' your sweetheart's face, and helpmake it fine."
There were many country fellows with their maids in the crowd, thatturned their heads at this address; and as usual the women began.
"Tis Joan o' the Tor!"
"Joan's picked up wi' a sweetheart--tee-hee!--an' us reckoned her'dforsworn mankind!"
"Who is he?"
"Some furriner, sure: that likes garlic."
"He's bought her no ribbons yet."
"How should he, poor lad; that can find no garments upon her to fasten'em to?"
And so on, with a deal of spiteful laughter. Some of these sayingswere half truth, no doubt: but the truthfullest word may be infelix.So noting a dark flush on Joan's cheek, I thought to end the scene bytaking the Cheap Jack's mirror on the spot, to stop his tongue, and thendrawing her away.
But in this I was a moment too late; for just as I reached up my handwith the thirteen pence, and the grinning fellow on the platform bentforward with his mirror, I heard a coarser jest, a rush in the crowd,and two heads go _crack!_ together like eggs. 'Twas two of Joan'stormentors she had taken by the hair and served so: and dropping themthe next instant had caught the Cheap Jack's beard, as you might a bellrope, and wrench'd him head-foremost off his stand, my thirteen penceflying far and wide. Plump he fell into the crowd, that scatter'd on allhands as Joan pummelled him: and _whack, whack!_ fell the b
lows on thepoor idiot's face, who scream'd for mercy, as though Judgment Day werecome.
No one, for the minute, dared to step between them: and presently Joanlooking up, with arm raised for another buffet, spied a poor Astrologerclose by, in a red and yellow gown, that had been reading fortunes in atub of black water beside him, but was now broken off, dismayed at thehubbub. To this tub she dragged the Cheap Jack and sent him into it witha round souse. The black water splashed right and left over the crowd.Then, her wrath sated, Joan faced the rest, with hands on hips, andwaited for them to come on.
Not a word had she spoken, from first to last: but stood now with hotcheeks and bosom heaving. Then, finding none to take up her challenge,she strode out through the folk, and I after her, with the mirror in myhand; while the Cheap Jack picked himself out of the tub, whining, andthe Astrologer wip'd his long white beard and soil'd robe.
Outside the throng was a carriage, stopp'd for a minute by this tumult,and a servant at the horses' heads. By the look of it, 'twas the coachof some person of quality; and glancing at it I saw inside an oldgentleman with a grave venerable face, seated. For the moment it flash'don me I had seen him before, somewhere: and cudgell'd my wits tothink where it had been. But a second and longer gaze assured me I wasmistaken, and I went on down the street after Joan.
She was walking fast and angry; nor when I caught her up and tried tosoothe, would she answer me but in the shortest words. Woman's justice,as I had just learn'd, has this small defect--it goes straight enough,but mainly for the wrong object. Which now I proved in my own case.
"Where are you going, Joan?"
"To 'Fifteen Balls'' stable, for my horse."
"Art not leaving the fair yet, surely!"
"That I be, tho'. Have had fairing enow--wi' a man!"
Nor for a great part of the way home would she speak to me. But meeting,by Pound Scawens (a hamlet close to the road), with some friends goingto the fair, she stopp'd for a while to chat with them, whilst I rodeforward: and when she overtook me, her brow was clear again.
"Am a hot headed fool, Jack, and have spoil'd thy day for thee."
"Nay, that you have not," said I, heartily glad to see her humble, forthe first time in our acquaintance: "but if you have forgiven me thatwhich I could not help, you shall take this that I bought for you, inproof."
And pulling out the mirror, I lean'd over and handed it to her.
"What i' the world be this?" she ask'd, taking and looking at itdoubtfully.
"Why, a mirror."
"What's that?"
"A glass to see your face in," I explained.
"Be this my face?" She rode forward, holding up the glass in frontof her. "Why, what a handsome looking gal I be, to be sure! Jack, artcertain 'tis my very own face?"
"To be sure," said I amazed.
"Well!" There was silence for a full minute, save for our horses' treadon the high road. And then--
"Jack, I be powerful dirty!"
This was true enough, and it made me laugh. She looked up solemnly at mymirth (having no sense of a joke, then or ever) and bent forward to theglass again.
"By the way," said I, "did you mark a carriage just outside the crowd,by the Cheap Jack's booth?--with a white-hair'd gentleman seatedinside?"
Joan nodded. "Master Hannibal Tingcomb: steward o' Gleys."
"What!"
I jumped in my saddle, and with a pull at the bridle brought Molly to astandstill.
"Of Gleys?" I cried. "Steward of Sir Deakin Killigrew that was?"
"Right, lad, except the last word. 'That _is_,' should'st rather say."
"Then you are wrong, Joan: for he's dead and buried, these five months.Where is this house of Gleys? for to-morrow I must ride there."
"'Tis easy found, then: for it stands on the south coast yonder, andno house near it: five mile from anywhere, and sixteen from Temple, duesouth. Shall want thee afore thou startest, Jack. Dear, now! who'd ha'thought I was so dirty?"
The cottage door stood open as we rode into the yard, and from it afaint smoke came curling, with a smell of peat. Within I found thesmould'ring turves scattered about as on the day of my first arrival,and among them Joan's father stretch'd, flat on his face: only this timethe eat was curl'd up quietly, and lying between the old man's shoulderblades.
"Drunk again," said Joan shortly.
But looking more narrowly, I marked a purplish stain on the ground bythe old man's mouth, and turned him softly over.
"Joan," said I, "he's not drunk--he's dead!"
She stood above us and looked down, first at the corpse, then at me,without speaking for a time: at last---
"Then I reckon he may so well be buried."
"Girl," I call'd out, being shocked at this callousness, "'tis yourfather--and he is dead!"
"Why that's so, lad. An he were alive, shouldn't trouble thee to bury'n."
And so, before night, we carried him up to the bleak tor side, and dughis grave there; the black cat following us to look. Five feet deep welaid him, having dug down to solid rock; and having covered him over,went silently back to the hovel. Joan had not shed a single tear.