The Borderer

Front matter

V ADAM LILBUEN LONDON SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 1896 [All rights reserved] TO MY FRIEND RICHARD DOWLING CONTENTS CHAPTKlt PA)}K I. The Druid's Circle 1 II. The Treasure is Hidden 6 III. Suspicion in the House 12 IV. A Border Farm 20 V. At the ' Bed Bull ' 26 VI. Butter-making and Witchcraft 34 VII. The Awakening of Love 43 VIII. Two Strings to his Bow 50 IX. Holding a Candle to the Devil .... 59 X. A Pedlar's Gossip 70 XI. Barbara's Appeal ....... 78 XII. Will Breaks his Promise 84 XIIL The Shadow of Trouble 94 XIV. An Unjust Accusation 100 XV. A Sad Parting 105 XVI. A Dead Mother 112 XVII. AtYeddamF.ur 117 XVIII. Herb Gatherers 125 XIX. Lips Sealed et God 133 XX. A Boy's Fancy— A Man's Love 141 XXI. At the Sheep-washing 152 XXII. A Country Dance 164 XXIII. By the Light of Stars 175 XXIV.

Presentiments 180 XXV. Shrined in the Night 185 XXVI. The Peace of the Dead Men CHAPTEB PACK XXVII. The Quarrel 201 XXVIII. News in the Night 211 XXIX. For the Bairn's Sake 218 XXX. On the Tramp 222 XXXI. The North Express 233 XXXII. Billy Brewis Holds his Tongue . . .237 XXXIII. An Old Coat 244 XXXIV. The Prodigal's Return 247 XXXV. An Old Ballad 257 XXXVI. A Kirn Supper 267 XXXVII. A Mysterious Warning 278 XXXVIII. The Wise Woman 287 XXXIX. A Contrast in Mothers 296 XL. Barbara Speaks Out ...... 304 XLI. Nostalgia 310 XLII. The Coming of the Dream Chili> . . . 319 XLIII. The Shepherd's Stratagem 329 XLIV. The First Nip of Winter 344 XLV. A Last Appeal 356 XLVI. A Frozen Sparrow 365 XLVII. Mattha Tells the Secret THE BOEDEEEE

Chapter I The Deuid's Circle

The year was drawing to a close, but as yet there had been no fall of snow. A thick coating of hoar frost lent, however, an effect of whiteness which added to the solemnity of the great moorland country that lay beneath the frown of the Cheviots. A silence, almost breathless in its intensity, brooded over the fells ; for the extreme cold had hushed all ordinary sounds of life, and the vast energies of nature appeared to be plunged in a slumber profound and unnatural. There was a strange, weird beauty about the scene. Yeavering Bell — the nearest of the range of hills — glittered beneath the cold rays of the moonlight ; and, farther to the south, the huge amorphous bulk of the Cheviot loomed dark against a cloudless sky. It was as though a dead moon looked down upon a dead world. High on the fell is situated a level plateau of con- I: siderable size, and upon this plateau stands one of those singular groups of large, upright stones popularly associated with Druidic rites; although it is more probable that, in common with other curious stone monuments — cromlechs, dolmens, menhirs, and bar rows — these circles are merely funeral ornaments of the Neolithic period.

So far, however, as appearance goes, the place might easily pass for a temple, instinct with mysterious memories. The mists of time have mercifully obliterated its history. It is difficult to realise that this desolate region, unpeopled save by a few solitary shepherds, can ever have been a centre of busy and eager life. And yet traces of dwellings and of ancient worship abound. The slopes of Yeavering Bell are thickly sown with them. Indeed, the very name of the hill itself suggests Bel, or Baal, the ' God of fire,' whose rites were certainly performed there on the eve of midsummer. Also the circles of hut dwellings are arranged so as to face the east, evidently for the purpose of sun worship. Over all that great sleeping world brooded a deathlike calm ; but in the heart of the one human being who gazed upon it from the elevated position afforded by the plateau, brooded no calm at all.

This solitary spectator was a tall, muscular young man, clad in tlie stout gray home-spun common alike to the shepherds and farmers of the district. He had the long sad visage of the Borderer, with THE DRUID'S CIRCLE 3 eyes deep set and dreamy, and he carried his head well for one who evidently belonged to the farm ing class. His age might have been about twenty five. The vision of this young man was rapt, vague, mystical ; and though it is probable that he was unconsciously affected by his environment, he certainly mastered none of its details. He had come there for a set purpose, with which he allowed nothing to interfere. He had come there to commune with his own heart, and be still. It was an awful place to choose for such a purpose, this world, whose vastness and voidness could scarce fail to disquiet a soul already tormented with wild fears and question ings.

Suddenly he threw up his arms, and his voice rang out in the stillness with the force of a trumpet blast. It was a fine resonant voice, with a shght touch of Border accent. ' Oh, God ! ' he cried, with a sort of desperate energy. 'Have mercy, have mercy upon us, and suffer us not to continue in our ignorance and our sins ! Let Thy hand crush them out of us, ay, even though it crush out our lives along with them. And oh, God ! let me know what's wrong this night, that Thou hast removed Thyself so far from me ! I need the assurance of salvation, both for myself, and for them that's dearer to me. But Thou hast hidden Thjself away behind a dark and awesome cloud, and do as I will I cannot pierce its gloom. I have been as a little child B learning to walk, and holding his father's hand the while.

If I lose my grip of Thee, shall I not stumble and fall, even as the child would do '? I am alone, alone, alone, in this great dead world of Thine, and it's so terrible that I can scarce bide it and live ! Wherein have I offended, that Thou hidest Thy face from me ? Or is it any of them below that's sinned against Thee ? ' and he waved his hand in the direction of the valley, where a slate roof peeped out from amongst a clump of stunted firs. ' If it be so, oh, God ! deal not with them after their sins. Have mercy, and grant them time for repentance ! The old man, my father, I grant Thee he's over fond of money. But Thou Who knowest all, knowest what a hard struggle his life has been for lack of it. He is old and frail, and the dread of poverty masters him. But if the money prove a stumbling-block, remove it from him, and give him Thy grace instead.

As for the others — Will's but a foolish lad, prone to pleasure and idleness, and a mocker at things sacred. But he's young, and knows no better, and if Thou wilt, Thou canst influence even his wayward heart ! ' Then quite suddenly the speaker's rugged features softened, he looked as though some pleasing vision presented itself before his mind's eye, and his voice took on a tender inflexion ' For surely it isn't the little lass, May — she that's the light of our home — whom Thou art angry with ? No ! For she is pure and innocent as one of Thy own angels ! But oh, God help me, that she may THE DRUID'S CIRCLE 5 never come betwixt my soul and Thee ! Oh, God ! let me wrestle with Thee to-night for those I love, even as Jacob wrestled with the angel. Let me gain from Thee a promise of pardon for me and mine, a promise to write our names in the Book of life.

And send Thy glory down upon my dark and frozen spirit, as Thou hast sent Thy glorious moonlight down upon this dark and frozen world.' Here he paused, not from lack of words, but simply because the passion dominating him had, for the time being, exhausted his strength. He sank back against the stone, weak and languid. But his eyes still wandered round with a vaguely expectant gaze. He appeared to imagine that some direct and immediate answer would be vouchsafed to his prayer ; that this answer might ring out from the hills, or creep up from the little stream below. But Nature and the Higher Power he supplicated were alike mute. Neither from the hills nor from the sky above them did any of the longed-for balm descend upon his fevered spirit. Only the sound of his own voice, thrown in reverberating echoes from crag to crag, returned as though to mock him.

And when this died away, the silence was more profound and appalling than before. It seemed a silence strained and unnatural, a silence instinct with terror ising possibilities, a silence that crept into his heart, and stilled — like some great suspense — its tumultuous pulses. As the agony of anticipation died away, and hope grew into despair, a fit of trembling shook the huge frame of the enthusiast, and he fell, lying like a log at the foot of the upright stone. About such religion as this Paul Riddell held to, there was certainly some rugged majesty ; but, like the scenery around him, it was full of deso late wastes, unfathomable chasms, insurmountable heights. Its God was an awful Judge, a severe Lawgiver, a relentless Avenger of sin ; in a word, an embodiment, on a gigantic scale, of all human passion ; a fetish to be feared and worshipped by so-called Christians, just as any other fetish is feared and worshipped by heathens.

In a scene full of traces of an older religion, this outburst of living puritanical fervour seemed strangely out of place. The silence and the desolation rendered it trivial and all but unimportant. Empires, genera tions, religions had reigned and passed away, like dreams that are told. Only the hills and the crags remained the same. Nature triumphed alike over sentiment and over human passion.

Chapter II The Treasure Is Hidden

At this juncture a strange incident occurred that effectually roused Paul Riddell from his stupor. Like most of the Border folk, he was innately superstitious. THE TREASURE IS HIDDEN 7 Even his religion had failed to eradicate this racial characteristic. Practical, matter-of-fact, utilitarian, all the latent romance of these people finds a vent in belief in the supernatural. Weird legends and stories of ghosts and ' boggles ' are recounted by winter firesides, to which even children are allowed to listen. Paul's young imagination having received such nutriment, it is therefore not surprising that when he saw a bent, lean figure slowly creeping up the side of the fell, towards the Druid's circle, he at first judged it to be some being from another world, perhaps the spirit of one of those old heathen worshippers, come to protest against his intrusion into a temple sacred to another god than the one to whom he had just addressed his supplications.

The moonlight outlined the figure with a sort of pale lustre, and as it neared him it appeared familiar. That lean bowed form, scant silver hah-, those loose ill-cut garments, they were as well known to him as his own reflection in a mirror. Clinging to the stone under which he lay, he dragged himself erect, that he might the better observe the approaching form. Then he was able to perceive that the eyes of the new-comer, though widely opened, had in them no power of sight. He knew immediately what the vision meant. Here was no spectre from the past, resentful of his pre sence. This was merely his father, old Jacob Riddell, walking in sleep. Paul was not so entirely surprised as he might have been had the same thing not happened before. On the previous occasion, the farmer had been greatly troubled in mind concerning some business affair.

Paul watched the somnambulist narrowly. What strange freak of brain had drawn him from a warm bed on such a bitter night ? And what was the object held so tightly against his bosom ? Nearer he came, and nearer, until at length he stood within the mystic circle. And a strange figure he appeared, with the moonlight shining down upon him. Without a moment's hesitation he made for one of the upright stones. It was one that had fallen slightly from the perpendicular, leaving visible a small hollow, across the gaping mouth of which had grown a tangle of briars and of bramble stems. Stooping, the sleeper swept these aside, deposited within the hollow the object he carried, and re arranged the stems exactly as they were before. Then he rose and stretched his arms, giving at the same time a sigh, as of exquisite relief.

Paul knew it to be dangerous to suddenly awaken one plunged in a somnambulistic trance ; so placing a great constraint upon himself, he preserved a complete silence during these extraordinary events. He decided, however, to follow and see the old man straight home. But no care was required of him. The somnam bulist wended a devious way down the steep path, THE TREASURE IS HIDDEN 9 carefully avoiding every rugged boulder that projected, and every treacherous ravine that gaped. He could not have walked more securely had his vision been a conscious one. Paul watched him cross the slender wooden bridge that spanned the stream, and proceed through the farmyard, where Shag, the house dog, gave one sharp yelp and subsided into silence, wagging his tail in welcome of a strangely quiet and un demonstrative master.

Immediately the sleeper was safely housed, Paul turned back and climbed the hill in breathless haste, never pausing until he reached the sunken stone. Here he knelt down, and groped in the cavity, eventually drawing forth a small square tin box. He recognised this at once for his father's cash-box. He knew also that upon this occasion it was full both of coin and bank-notes ; because the old man had recently withdrawn a large sum of money from the county bank, on the receipt of some disquieting rumours con cerning its financial condition. It was, in all pro bability, his anxiety about this money that had produced the cerebral excitement of which the sleep walking phase was an outcome. But Paul, mystic and enthusiast, did not wish to find a practical cause for the strange proceeding, but accepted it gladly as the direct answer to his prayer, for which he had been waiting.

Had he not pleaded for the removal of any stumbling-block that might stand betwixt those he loved and their salvation ? Behold, then, by the mercy of God, the thing was accom plished ! Kneeling, therefore, beside the hollow, he raised his clasped hands to heaven, and returned thanks. And his tone was now wildly exultant, contrasting strangely with its former sadness. A major in place of a minor chord. It suddenly occurred to him that the place where the accursed thing was hidden might be chanced on by some person visiting the circle. He therefore pro ceeded to render it more secure. Owing to the exces sive frost, which had penetrated deep into the ground, this was a matter of some difficulty. It was like digging into a mass of iron, and the sole implement he possessed was a stout pocket knife.

Nevertheless, he did at length succeed in excavating deeper into the cavity, and here he laid the box, covering it with earth, and laying some stones on the top. By this time he was pretty well exhausted, and ready to follow in his father's footsteps ; and, taking the precaution of removing his shoes in the kitchen, crept noiselessly upstairs to the big draughty garret which he shared with his brother Will. The latter was sleeping peacefully. A comely lad, with a smile playing around his lips, as though he dreamt of some pleasant matter. Shading the candle with one hand, Paul looked down at him. There was something not altogether kindly in the elder brother's glance. It had more of the cold criticism of a stranger, than the loving regard of a kinsman. THE TREASURE IS HIDDEN 11 But the smile did not die from Will's lips, nor was the pleasant dream disturbed.

Indeed, Will's dreams, whether sleeping or waking, were mostly pleasant. Troubles slid from him as readily as snow slides from the steep sides of old Cheviot under the summer sunshine, leaving as little impression behind. He knew but one duty, one religion, one philosophy. This was to procure for himself the greatest amount of enjoyment, combined with the slightest possible exertion. And he laughed scornfully at Paul's religion, as he laughed at most things under the sun. Between a serious pietist and a laughing philo sopher there could be little real sympathy. Yet, since the same blood ran in their veins, it was probable that their lives might not be completely severed without some sudden and terrible wrench, some rending asunder of tender ties, of mingled heartstrings. Even as he gazed Paul's look softened, and grew more fraternal. ' He's a rare bonny lad, our Will,' he murmured gently. ' What wonder folks should like him best '?

A winsome smile is one of God's richest gifts ! How proud mother would have beeu of him, if she'd lived. God help him to keep straight ! And God help me to love him better than I do ! '

Chapter III Suspicion In The House

The kitchen of Stonyrigg farm was the living-room for the household. There, master and servants had their meals at one table, in true patriarchal fashion ; members of the family at the head, men and maidens at the foot. It was a big, homely, comfortable place, and had a great open fireplace, and an inglenook furnished with a couple of wooden settles. The low ceiling was crossed by oaken beams that were black with age, but were yet sufficiently strong to support the sides of home-fed bacon, and the hams that hung from them. The outer door stood open all day long in summer, for the convenience of the busy feet that kept trampling in and out continually, so that a current of air kept the place pure ; though frequently a savoury odour ascended from the iron pot or yetlin pendant from a hook in the chimney.

When the labours of the day were over, and old Barbara, the housekeeper, had removed every trace of muddy boots from the stone floor — and on this point, as on many others, Barbara was mightily particular — the entire household would gather together around a cheerful fire. Barbara and May would produce their knitting, long gray stockings of yarn, and the master would occupy himself with his weekly news paper. More often than not he would fall asleep SUSPICION IN THE HOUSE 13 over it, but as it was required to last him for a whole week, this mattered little. There was a quaint parlour to the front of the house, with a low wide diamond-paned window that yielded a charming outlook on to the fells. But this room was seldom used save when, of a summer evening, the old housekeeper, wearying of what she con temptuously termed the ' fond haivers ' of the men folk, who discussed local affairs over their pipes, would suddenly cry : ' Come thee ways into the parlour, May, my lass, and leave them to their daft like talk.' Barbara was a spinster, and a strong-minded one.

She cherished a noble scorn of all things masculine. Her feelings in this respect were something akin to those of the advanced woman of to-day, save that she warred not against existing conditions. She tolerated men, and provided for their material wants, because they were necessary for the efficient perform ance of farm labours. But this was a different matter to deriving any pleasure from their society. Although the young girl, May Colwyn, did. not share her prejudices, the latter was nevertheless not averse to escaping from the prosaic atmosphere of the kitchen, and welcomed the chance of pursuing her day-dreams undisturbed. To her fresh imagination the twilight hour was instinct with charm and mystery, and she was wont to sit then in the low window seat, gazing wistfully in the direction of the hills.

She longed to follow the sun, as he sank into the vague misty land that lay behind those towering summits. She felt conscious of a lack of harmony with her surroundings, and sometimes even of a passionate revolt against them. Her nature was both eager and poetic ; and it seemed as though her destiny stretched out like the path through the valley, level, gray, and absolutely uninteresting. Not that she was really unhappy. There was an intoxication in the mere fact of her youth. There were times when her young blood, pulsing rapidly through her veins, caused her feet to dance as she went along, and then she smiled, from some subtle but indefinable sense of pleasure. The world was so full of beauty, so fresh and new ; the purple hills, the brown moorland, the glory of sunset, the vesper song of the lark, all were a living delight to May.

And the old-fashioned parlour was a pleasant room wherein to dream. A delicate yet pervasive odour of dried rose leaves and of lavender hung around it. Great bunches of quaking grass and of honesty flourished in the big blue china vases on the mantel shelf. The walls were decorated with coloured alma nacks, a framed sampler worked in floss silks by the young wife of the old farmer, a couple of black silhouettes, representing other members of the Riddell family, and a quantity of framed funeral cards. It was the custom of the place to keep these latter in perpetual view, a memento mori for all beholders. But on winter evenings the parlour was deserted, since it was then too cold to sit there without a fire. SUSPICION IN THE HOUSE And only upon the occasion of company would Barbara allow a fire to be kindled.

So it was in the kitchen that the whole household was gathered together upon the night following on Paul's vigil. Work being over, the old farmer, washed, and to a certain extent regarbed, retired to his own room to add up his accounts, and consider his plans for re-investment. Naturally, he was not long in discovering his loss. He stood for a few minutes like one stunned, then descended like an avalanche upon the sleepy group at the fireside. ' Listen here, every man jack of ye,' he cried, in a shrill quavering voice, ' there's a thief in the house, ay, a thief, I tell ye ! By Gox ! It makes me mad to think on't. Ye've eaten my bread, and slept under my roof, and that's not stopped ye from robbing me — whichever on ye's done it ? ' ' Mercy me, what's gone wrong with ye ? ' exclaimed Barbara, dropping a loop of her knitting through fright. ' Ye're daft, I think, to fancy honest folks would rob ye ! ' The farmer sank into his accustomed chair, con cealing, under an appearance of severity, the real tremor and weakness from which he suffered.

He questioned in turn each member of the household — hard-featured Barbara, trembling May, his son Paul, Jenny the milkmaid, Jack the farming man. Only Will he could not interrogate, for that young man was missing, as usual, having acquired during the period of his apprenticeship certain town tastes, and an urban contempt for early hours. Seldom did he return home before the rest of the family had retired. Old Jacob's anger burnt hot within him, though it made little impression on his dour features. But his withered brown hands shook like leaves that hung by a thread in the autumn wind, and the big blue veins stood out upon them, crooked and swollen. To obtain no satisfaction from the persons he questioned increased his fury. ' I darrsay ye think it's grand sport to cheat the old man out of his hard-earned money !

But wait a bit ! I'll let ye see what's what ! Ill-gotten gain never prospers. And my curse is on it, forbye ! ' ' Hush, father ! Be in no haste to curse and swear, for it's a sm before God and man ! ' ' Ye may well say so, Mr. Paul,' chimed in the housekeeper ; ' curses is like chickens, and come home to roost.' ' Woman, don't you interfere, or I'll put ye to the door,' cried the farmer, his voice growing shrill with rage ; ' am I to lose my good hundred pound and over, and say nowt about it ? And as for you, Paul, my man, what's the use of yer religion if it won't serve to keep folks honest ? ' 'Judge not, that ye be not judged,' rephed Paul, whose deep solemn tones formed a strange contrast to those of his father ; ' it may be that the hand of God has bereft ye of your idol, because it came betwixt Him and thee !

Better lose the money than your soul, father ! ' SUSPICION IN THE HOUSE Jacob's patience — never of the greatest — gave way under this touch of sermonising. His voice crescen doed to an angry shriek, as he rose and shook his fist in his son's face. ' Go to the devil with thy piety and thy hypocrisies ! ' he screamed, the veins standing out on his temples, and his eyes glaring beneath his shaggy eyebrows ; ' there's nowt so easy as to thole other folks's troubles ! Ay, but when thou wants new seed for neaps it'll be a different matter, I'll warrant ! The money ye pretend to despise would come in handy then, maybe '? As for the hand of God, how do I know it's not your own instead, since you're so keen on making me go to heaven ? ' Paul bore the imputation calmly. He had fore seen it. No present sorrow being profitable, he did not expect the old man to develop saintly graces all at once. ' I did not take your money,' he stated quietly, looking his father steadily in the face.

Beneath this unfaltering gaze Jacob calmed down, and began to bewail his loss in a less frantic fashion. The scene was terrifying to May Colwyn, who was of a sensitive nature, and she had hidden her face in her hands. Paul, who was very thoughtful for her, crossed over to where she crouched in a corner of the settle, and touched her on the shoulder. ' Don't cry, May dear,' he whispered, reassuringly, ' father will get over it directly ! He doesn't mean c half he says when he's in a passion. Whisht now ! It makes my heart ache to hear you ! ' The young girl glanced timidly around her, like a bird caught in a net. A thrill ran through Paul's big frame as he felt the fluttering of her heart beneath his hand. Suddenly she dragged his head to a level with her lips. ' Paul, tell me,' she murmured in his ear, ' tell me, you don't suspect Will ? ' Paul's arm was round her, but at this it dropped, and he looked at her searchingly. ' Why do you ask that '? ' May shrank back at his changed tone ' Oh, I don't know !

It was only a stupid thought that crossed my mind for a moment ! I meant nothing ; indeed, Paul, I meant nothing ! I wish I hadn't said it.' Paul's gloomy eyes were fixed upon her. He also wished that she had not said it. There was the germ of a troublesome idea in it, an idea that he felt certain would return to torture him later. And he hated himself, even now, because he did not rebuke the absurdity of her suspicion. He hated himself, but he kept silence. Meanwhile Barbara was having it out with the master. No special attack had been made upon her, but it suited her angry mood to imagine herself suspected. ' Eh me, I will say this, that it's a fine time o' day for a decent hard workin' woman to be likened to thieves and siclike, after servin' ye so ream7 years ! SUSPICION IN TIIE HOUSE 19 A thief, no less !

Ay, ay ! A woman may slave her life out, an' this is all the thanks she gets. Maybe ye'd like to search my bits o' boxes, or turn out my pockets ? I'm sure j-e're welcome ! I've nowt to hide. Here's my keys ! Go upstairs, an' commence yer sarch. Ye'll find precious little yonder — the wages was none so liberal.' Wild as he was with anger, the farmer required no such assurances of Barbara's fidelity, and thrust aside the trembling hand proffering him the keys. ' Wilt thou never hold thy tongue, thou daft old wife ? ' he cried. ' Since the cap doesn't fit, is there any need to cut thy head to the size on't ? Surely there's right on my side, if I try to find out what's come of the money '? It couldn't walk away by itsel', could it ? ' There now remained but one person to question ; and when Will returned he found his father awaiting him.

Although a scapegrace, Will was decidedly the favourite. Faults, inexcusable in another, were readily pardoned in him. He was the sort of fellow who would neither work nor want, as the saying goes. Professing a great distaste for farming, he had been apprenticed to a builder in Alnwick. This builder — a childless and wealthy man — was predisposed to like the lad, being akin to him on his mother's side, and Will's prospects were roseate. Nevertheless, the apprentice ship turned out a failure. Every few months Paul was sent for to extricate his brother from some dis creditable scrape or other, and when the latter had C served his time the master builder expressed no desire to retain him as journeyman. Master Will cared not a jot. He was tired of work, tired of Alnwick, tired of everything. Some more con genial employment would be sure to turn up for him soon.