by Amelia Edwards
Thank God!
What for?
Well — for you. I had begun to fear I should be lost in the snow.
Eh, then, folks do get cast away hereabouts fra’ time to time, an’ what’s to hinder you from bein’ cast away likewise, if the Lord’s so minded?
If the Lord is so minded that you and I shall be lost together, friend, we must submit. But I don’t mean to be lost without you. How far am I now from Dwolding?
A gude twenty mile, more or less.
And the nearest village?
The nearest village is Wyke, an’ that’s twelve mile t’other side.
Where do you live, then?
Out yonder; thataway, see?
You’re going home, I presume?
Maybe I am.
Then I’m going with you.
Nope. It ain’t o’ no use. He ‘ont let you in — not he.
We’ll see about that. Who’s he?
The master.
Who is the master?
That’s naught to you.
Well, well; you lead the way, and I’ll engage to see that the master gives me shelter and supper tonight.
Eh, you can try him. I’m off!
Ruff, ruff, rrruff! Grr!
Where’d you come from, boy?
Roof-roof!
Old Man, One more thing, Is this the house?
Ay, it’s the house. Down, Boy! I’ll just find the key.
Why it looks like the door of a prison. Let me past, there, old fellow. Why does it have the look of a barn inside? Those agricultural implements, flour sacks, casks, and rows of hams and herbs hanging?
Tis naught of concern to thee!
Then what is under the dingy cover there, reaching half way to the rafters? Let’s have a peek under here, eh?
Tis naught. Put that cover cloth down.
Tis naught, aye, but — a telescope! A Big one, and on wheels!
Clear off!
The tube is made of painted wood, bound with bands of metal and rudely fashioned; the speculum, so far as I can estimate in this dim light, measures at least fifteen inches in diameter. [Ring-Ring]
That’s for you, tee-hee! Yonder’s his room.
Did you mean to point to that low black door at the opposite side of the hall? I’ll try knocking at it then!
I crossed over, rapped somewhat loudly, and went in, without waiting for an invitation. A huge, white-haired old man rose from a table covered with books and papers, and confronted me sternly.
Who are you? How came you here? What do you want?James Murray, barrister-at-law. On foot across the moor. Meat, drink, and sleep.Mine is not a house of entertainment, sir! Jacob, how dared you admit this stranger?I didn’t admit him. He followed me over the muir, and shouldered his way in before me. I’m no match for six foot two.And pray, sir, by what right have you forced an entrance into my house?The same by which I should have clung to your boat if I were drowning. The right of self-preservation.Self-preservation?There’s an inch of snow on the ground already, and it would be deep enough to cover my body before daybreak. Just look out there!It is true. You can stay, if you choose, till morning. Jacob, serve the supper.