“Dear me, nothing, Cousin Ridd; you never do
anything to vex me.”
“Then I hope I shall do something now, Ruth,
when I say good-bye. God knows if we ever shall
meet again, Ruth: but I hope we may.”
“To be sure we shall,” she answered in
her brightest manner. “Try not to look
wretched, John: you are as happy as a Maypole.”
“And you as a rose in May,” I said; “and
pretty nearly as pretty. Give my love to Uncle
Ben; and I trust him to keep on the winning side.”
“Of that you need have no misgivings. Never
yet has he failed of it. Now, Cousin Ridd, why
go you not? You hurried me so at breakfast time?”
“My only reason for waiting, Ruth, is that you
have not kissed me, as you are almost bound to do,
for the last time perhaps of seeing me.”
“Oh, if that is all, just fetch the stool; and
I will do my best, cousin.”
“I pray you be not so vexatious; you always
used to do it nicely, without any stool, Ruth.”
“Ah, but you are grown since then, and become
a famous man, John Ridd, and a member of the nobility.
Go your way, and win your spurs. I want no lip-service.”
Being at the end of my wits, I did even as she ordered
me. At least I had no spurs to win, because there
were big ones on my boots, paid for in the Easter
bill, and made by a famous saddler, so as never to
clog with marsh-weed, but prick as hard as any horse,
in reason, could desire. And Kickums never wanted
spurs; but always went tail-foremost, if anybody offered
them for his consideration.
[Illustration: 595.jpg Tailpiece]
SLAUGHTER IN THE MARSHES
[Illustration: 596.jpg James I.]
We rattled away at a merry pace, out of the town of
Dulverton; my horse being gaily fed, and myself quite
fit again for going. Of course I was puzzled
about Cousin Ruth; for her behaviour was not at all
such as I had expected; and indeed I had hoped for
a far more loving and moving farewell than I got from
her. But I said to myself, “It is useless
ever to count upon what a woman will do; and I think
that I must have vexed her, almost as much as she
vexed me. And now to see what comes of it.”
So I put my horse across the moorland; and he threw
his chest out bravely.
Now if I tried to set down at length all the things
that happened to me, upon this adventure, every in
and out, and up and down, and to and fro, that occupied
me, together with the things I saw, and the things
I heard of, however much the wiser people might applaud
my narrative, it is likely enough that idle readers
might exclaim, “What ails this man? Knows
he not that men of parts and of real understanding,
have told us all we care to hear of that miserable
business. Let him keep to his farm, and his bacon,
and his wrestling, and constant feeding.”
