The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 5 of 5) Read online

  Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  VOLUME V

  CHAPTER LXXVII

  The final purposes for which man is ordained to move in this nethersphere, will for ever remain disputable, while the doubts to which itgives rise can be answered only by fellow-doubters: but that the basisof his social comfort is confidence, is an axiom that waits norevelation, requires no logic, and dispenses with mathematical accuracyfor proof: it is an axiom that comes home, straight forward andintuitively, to our 'business and bosoms;'--there, with life, to lodge.

  Juliet, therefore, in this rustic abode, surrounded by the clingingaffection of instinctive partiality, felt a sense of security, morepotent in its simplicity, than she could have owed to any engagement,even of honour, even of law, even of duty. And, while to the fond motherand her little ones, she was every moment newly endeared, sheexperienced herself, in their favour, an increase of regard, thatexcited in her an ardent desire to make this her permanent dwelling,till she could procure tidings from Gabriella.

  The night-scene, nevertheless, hung upon her with perplexity. The gooddame never reverted to it, evidently not imagining that it had beenobserved; and persuaded that the entrance, at that moment, of her guest,had been accidental. She constantly evaded to speak of her husband, orof his affairs; while all her happiness, and almost her very existence,seemed wrapt up in her children.

  Unable to devise any better method of arriving at the subject, Juliet,at length, determined upon relating the story of the hut. She watchedfor an opportunity, when the little boy and girl, whom she would notrisk frightening, were asleep; and then, while occupied at her needle,began detailing every circumstance of that affair.

  The narrative of the place, and of the family, sufficed to draw, atonce, from the dame the exclamation, 'O, you been gone, then, to NatMixon's? That be just he; and her, too. They be none o' the koindest,that be sure, poor folk!'

  But at the history of the calling up in the night; the rising, passing,and precautions; the dame changed colour, and, with palpabledisturbance, enquired upon what day of the week this had happened: sherevived, however, upon being answered that it was Thursday, simplysaying, 'Mercy be proised! that be a day as can do me no harm.'

  But, at the description of the sack, the lumpish sound, and thesubsequent appearance of a clot of blood, the poor woman turned pale;and, blessing herself, said, 'The La be good unto me! Nat Mixon wull bepaid, at last, for all his bad ways! for, sure and sure, the devil doowe un a grudge, or a would no ha' let a straunger in, to bear eye sightto's goings on! 'T be a mercy 't be no worse, for an if 't had bin aFriday--'

  She checked herself, but looked much troubled. Juliet, affrighted by herown conjectures, would have stopt; the dame, however, begged her to goon: but when she mentioned the cupboard, and the door smeared withblood, the poor woman, unable to contain her feelings, caught her guestby the arm, and exclaimed, 'You wull no' inform against un, wull you?'

  'Indeed, I should be most reluctant,' answered Juliet, 'to informagainst people who, be they what they may, admitted me to a night'slodging, when I was in distress: nevertheless--what am I to think ofthese appearances? Meetings in the dead of the night, so dark, private,and clandestine?'

  'But, who could 't be as did call up Nat?' interrupted Dame Fairfield;'for my husband do go only o' the Friday.--' and then, giving a loudscream, 'La be good unto me!' she continued, 'if an't be last month, 'tbe my husband for sure! for a could no' go o' the Friday, being thegreat fair!'

  The expression of horrour now depicted upon the countenance of Juliet,told the dame the mischief done by her unguarded speech; and, in a panicuncontroulable, she flung her apron over her face, and sobbed out, ''Tbe all blown, then, and we, we be all no better than ondone!'

  Shocked, grieved, and appalled at this detection, and uncertain whitherit might lead, or what might be its extent, the thoughts of Juliet werenow all engrossed in considering how immediately to abscond from asituation so alarming and perilous.

  In a few minutes, Dame Fairfield, starting up, ran precipitately to thebed, calling out, 'Come, my pretty ones, come, my dearys! come and downo' your knees to the good gentlewoman, and praoy her to ha' mercy o'poor daddy; for if so be a come to be honged and transported, you cannever show your poor innocent pretty faces agen! Come, little dearys,come! down o' your marrow-bones; and praoy her to be so good as not tobe hard-hearted; for if a do be so onkoind as to inform against us, webe all ondone!'

  Juliet would have stopt this scene, but it was not possible; thechildren, though comprehending nothing that was said, and crying atbeing awaked, obeyed; and, falling at her feet, and supportingthemselves by her gown, said, 'Pay, dood ady, don't hurt daddy! paydon't, dood ady!'

  Touched, yet filled with augmented dismay by their prayers, Juliet,tenderly embracing, carried them back to bed; and, with words ofcomfort, and kind promises, soon hushed them again to sleep.

  But the mother was not to be appeased; she had flung herself upon herknees, and upon her knees she pertinaciously kept; sobbing as if herheart were bursting, and lamenting that her husband never would listento her, or things would not have come to such a pass.

  Juliet, full of compassion, yet shuddering, attempted to console her,but would enter into no engagement. Pity, in such a case, howeversincerely felt, could not take the lead; humanity itself invokedjustice; and she determined to let no personal consideration whatsoever,interfere any longer with her causing an immediate investigation to bemade into this fearful business.

  The poor woman would not quit the floor, even when, in despondence, shegave over her kneeling importunity. Juliet, from the instant that shediscovered how deeply the husband was involved, forbore all enquiry thatmight make the wife an informer against him; and sate by her side,trying to revive her, with offers of friendship and assistance.

  But when, anxious to escape from this eventful Forest, and stillconfiding in the simplicity and goodness of her hostess, she begged aclear direction to the shortest way for getting to the high road;saying, 'Alas! how little had I imagined that there had been any spot inEngland, where travellers were thus dreadfully waylaid to theirdestruction!' Dame Fairfield, suddenly ceasing her outcries, demandedwhat she meant; saying, 'Why sure, and sure, there be no daunger tonobody in our Forest! We do go up it and down it, noight and day,without no manner of fear; and though I do come from afar off myself,being but a straunger in these parts, till I was married; myfeather-in-law, who has lived in them, mon and boy, better than ninetyand odd years,--for, thof a be still as fresh as a rose, a be a'most ahondred; he do tell me that a would carry his gold watch, if a had one,in his open hand, from top to bottom of our nine walks, in the pitch ofthe night; and a should aunswer to come to no harm; for a had neverheard of a traveller as had had so much as a hair of his head hurt inthe New Forest.'

  'What is it you tell me, my good dame?' cried Juliet amazed: 'What arethese alarming scenes that I have witnessed? And why are yourapprehensions for your husband so direful?'

  'The La be good unto me!' exclaimed the dame: 'why sure and sure you dono' go to think the poor mon be a murderer?'

  'I am disposed to think whatever you will bid me,' replied Juliet, 'forI see in you such perfect truth and candour, that I cannot hesitate ingiving you my belief.'

  'Why the La be good unto me, my good gentlewoman, there be but smallneed to make bad worse! What the poor mon ha' done, may bring un to behonged and transported; but if so be a had killed a mon, a might go toold Nick besoides; and no one could say a deserved ony better.'

  Juliet earnestly begged an explanati
on; and Dame Fairfield thenconfessed, that her husband and Nat Mixon were deer-stealers.

  After the tremendous sensations to which the mistake of Juliet, from herignorance of this species of traffic, had given rise, so unexpected asolution of her perplexity, made this crime, contrasted with theassassination of a fellow-creature, appear venial. But though relievedfrom personal terrours, she would not hazard weakening the morality, inlessening the fears of the good, but uncultivated Dame Fairfield, bymaking her participate in the comparative view taken by herself, of thegreater with the less offence. She represented, therefore, warmly andclearly, the turpitude of all failure of probity; dwelling mostespecially upon the heinousness of a breach of trust.

  The good woman readily said, that she knew, well enough, that the deerwere as much the King's Majesty's as the Forest; and that she had toldit over and over to her husband; and bid him prepare for his latter end,if he would follow such courses: 'But the main bleame, it do all lie inNat Mixon; for a be as bad a mon as a body might wish to set eyes on.And a does always say a likes ony thing better than work. It be he hasled my poor husband astray: for, thof a be but a bad mon, at best, to mymishap! a was a good sort of a husband enough, poor mon, till a took tothese courses. But a knows I do no' like un for that; and that makes it,that a does no' much like me. But I would no' ha' un come to be hongedor transported, if so be a was as onkoind agen! I would sooner go withun to prison; thof it be but a dismal life to be shut up by dark walls,and iron bars for to see out of! but I'd do it for sure and sure, not toforsake un, poor mon! in his need; if so be I could get wherewithal tokeep my little dearys.'

  Touched by such genuine and virtuous simplicity, Juliet now promised toapply to some powerful gentleman, to take her husband from thetemptation of his present situation; and to settle them all at adistance from the Forest.

  The good woman, at this idea, started up in an extacy, and jumped aboutthe room, to give some vent to her joy; kissing her little ones till shenearly suffocated them; and telling them, for sure and certain, thatthey had gotten an angel come amongst them, to save them all from shame.'For now,' she continued, 'if we do but get un away from Nat Mixon andhis wife, who be the worst mon in all the Forest, a wull think no moreof selling unlawful goods than unlawful geame.'

  Juliet, though delighted at her happiness, was struck with the words'unlawful goods;' which she involuntarily repeated. Dame Fairfield,unable, at this moment, to practise any restraint upon her feelings,plumply, then, acknowledged that Nat Mixon was a smuggler, as well as adeer-stealer: and that three of them were gone, even now, about thecountry, selling laces, and cambrics, and gloves, just brought to land.

  This additional misdemeanour, considerably abated the hopes ofreformation which had been conceived by Juliet; and every word that,inadvertently, escaped from the unguarded dame, brought conviction thatthe man was thoroughly worthless. To give him, nevertheless, ifpossible, the means to amend; and, at all events, to succour his goodwife, and lovely children, occupied as much of the thoughts of Juliet ascould be drawn, by humanity, from the danger of her own situation, andher solicitude to escape from the Forest.

  More fearful than ever of losing her way, and falling into new evil, sheagain entreated Dame Fairfield to accompany her to the next town on themorrow. The dame agreed to every thing; and then, light of heart, thoughheavy with fatigue, went to rest; and was instantly visited by the bestphysician to all our cares.

  Juliet, also, courted repose; and not utterly in vain; though it camenot to the relief of her anxious spirits, agitated by all theanticipating inquietude of foresight, with the same salutary facilitywith which it instantly hushed the fears and the griefs of theunreflecting, though feeling Dame Fairfield.

  The moment that the babbling little voices of the children reached, thenext morning, the ear of Juliet, she descended from her small chamber,to hasten the breakfast, and to quicken her departure. Dame Fairfield,during the preparations and the repast, happy in new hope, and solacedby unburthening her heart, conversed, without reserve, upon her affairs;and the picture which her ingenuous avowals, and simple details, offeredto the mental view of Juliet, presented to her a new sight of humanlife; but a sight from which she turned with equal sadness andamazement.

  The wretched man of the hut, of whom the poor dame's husband was theservile accomplice, was the leader in all the illicit adventures of theNew Forest. Another cottager, also, was entirely under his direction;though the difficulty and danger attendant upon their principal traffic,great search being always made after a lost deer, caused it to be rarelyrepeated; but smaller game; hares, pheasants, and partridges, wereeasily inveigled, by an adroit dispersion of grain, to a place properfor their seizure; and it required not much skill to frame stories forsatisfying purchasers, who were generally too eager for possession, tobe scrupulous in investigating the means by which their luxury was socheaply indulged.

  The fixed day of rendezvous was every Friday month, that each might beready for his part of the enterprize.

  Juliet, the dame imagined, had been admitted because it was Thursday,and that her husband had not given notice that he should change his day,on account of the fair; besides which, neither Mixon, she said, nor hiswife, ever refused money, be it ever so dangerous. He and his familynearly subsisted upon the game which could not be got off in time; orthe refuse; or parts that were too suspicious for sale, of the deer. ButDame Fairfield, though at the expence of the most terrible quarrels, andeven ill usage from her husband, never would consent to touch, norsuffer her children to eat, what was not their own; 'for I do tell un,'she continued, 'it might strangle us down our throats; for it be all hisKing's Majesty's; and I do no' know why we should take hisn goods, whena do never come to take none of ours! for we be never mislested, nightnor day. And a do deserve well of us all; for a be as good a gentlemonas ever broke bread! which we did all see, when a was in these parts; aswell as his good lady, the Queen, who had a smile for the lowest of us,God bless un! and all their pretty ones! for they were made up of goodnature and charity; and had no more pride than the new-born baby. And wedid all love 'em, when they were in these parts, so as the like neverwas seen before.'

  With regard to the smuggling, there were three men, she said, who cameover, alternately, from beyond seas, with counterband merchandize. Theylanded where they could, and, if they were surprised, they knew how tohide their goods, and pass for poor fishermen, blown over by foul winds:for they had always fishing tackle ready to shew. They had agents allround the coast, prepared to deal with them; but when they came to theForest, they always treated with Mixon.

  Her friend near the turnpike, at Salisbury, commonly kept a good storeof articles; which she carried about, occasionally, to the ladies of thetown. 'And I ha' had sums and sums of goods,' she added, 'here,oftentimes, myself; and then I do no dare to leave the house for oneyearthly moment; for we be all no better than slaves when the smugglersbe here, for fear of some informer. And I do tell my poor husband, weshould be mainly happier to work our hands to the bone, ony day of theyear, so we did but live by the King's Majesty's laws, than to makemoney by being always in a quandary. And a might see the truth of what Ido say, if a would no' blind his poor eyes; or Nat Mixon, thof a do geta power of money, do live the most pitiful of us all, for the fear ofbeing found out: a does no' dare get un a hat, nor a waistcoat like toanother mon. And his wife be the dirtiest beast in all the Forest. Andtheir house and garden be no better than a piggery. So that they've nojoy of life. They be but bad people at best, poor folk! And Nat be maincross-grained; for, with all his care, a do look to be took up everyblessed day; and that don't much mend a mon's humour.'

  Ah, thought Juliet, were the wilful, but unreflecting purchaser,amenable to sharing the public punishment of the tempted and needyinstrument,--how soon would this traffic die away; and every countrylive by its own means; or by its own fair commerce!

  They had all, the dame said, been hard at work, to cover some goodsunder ground, the very night of Juliet's arrival: and they ha
d put whatwas for immediate sale into hods, spread over with potatoes, to conveyto different places. When Juliet had tapped at the door, the dame hadconcluded it to be her husband, returned for something that had beenforgotten; but the sight of a stranger, she said, though it were but awoman, made her think that they were all undone; for the changed dressof Juliet impeded any recollection of her, till she spoke.

  In the communication to which this discourse gave rise, Juliet, withsurprize, and even with consternation, learnt, how pernicious were theravages of dishonest cupidity; how subversive alike of fair prosperity,and genial happiness, even in the bosom of retired and beautifulrusticity. For those who were employed in poaching, purloining wood, orconcealing illicit merchandize by night, were as incapable of the artsand vigour of industry by day, as they were torpid to the charms andanimation of the surrounding beauties of nature. Their severest labourreceived no pay, but from fearful, accidental, and perilous dexterity;their best success was blighted by constant apprehension of detection.Reproachful with each other, suspicious of their neighbours, and gloomyin themselves, they were still greater strangers to civilized mannersthan to social morality.

  In the midst, however, of the dejection excited by such a view of humanfrailty, Juliet, whose heart always panted to love, and prided inesteeming her fellow-creatures, had the consolation to gather, that thehouses which contained these unworthy members of the community were few,in comparison with those which were inhabited by persons of unsulliedprobity; that several of the cottagers were even exemplary for assiduouslaboriousness and good conduct; and that many of the farmers and theirfamilies were universally respected.