“If Antony Grace stirs, I’ll crush him like I would a snail,” cried the farmer. “And now look here, you crawling snake; I trusted you because I didn’t believe any one could deliberately ruin another for the sake of a few pounds.”
“Mr. Wooster, if you dare to strike me,” cried the miserable coward, “I shall proceed against you for assault.”
“So you may,” cried the farmer, with a bitter laugh; “and as you’ve got every penny I had, much good may it do you. Look here, Blakeford; if I knew that I should be transported for life to Botany Bay for what I’m going to do, I’d do it now.”
As he spoke, he spat in his hand, took a fresh grip of the ash stick, and, in spite or Mr. Blakeford’s cries for help and mercy, he thrashed him till the stick broke in pieces; and then, taking him by the collar with both hands, he shook him till he was tired, and ended by throwing him back in his chair.
“There!” cried the farmer; “now do your worst, you cheating scoundrel. I’m satisfied; go and satisfy yourself, and much good may the money you have stolen from the poor, the fatherless, and the widow do you.”
As he said this he strode out of the office and banged the door.
I was half stunned with fear and horror, and I remember how thankful I felt that I had seen Mrs. Blakeford go out with Hetty half an hour before. While the thrashing was going on Mary had opened the door and looked in, but as if it were no business of hers, she had gone out again, and I was left the sole spectator.
“Are you much hurt, sir?” I said in trembling tones as soon as we were alone.
“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely, and showing his teeth, “a good deal.”
“Shall I get you something, sir?”
“Yes,” he said, panting less hoarsely, “fetch that leather case out of the passage.”
I ran and fetched the heavy leather-covered box he meant, and placed it beside him, watching him anxiously, to see if he were better.
“Now, fasten both the doors,” he whispered, laying his hand upon his breast to keep down the panting as he drew his breath more easily, and wiped the perspiration from his face.
I obeyed him, and then returned to his side.
“Now unfasten that case, Antony,” he said in quite a faint whisper; and going down on one knee I unbuckled a thick strap that was round it, and was about to raise the lid, but it was locked.
“That will do,” he said, suddenly changing his tone as he seized me by the jacket collar with one hand, the strap with the other. “You young villain!” he hissed; “you dog! Didn’t I tell you to say I was out, and you let that bully in? I’ll give you such a lesson as you will never forget.”
I was half stupefied as he raised the thick strap, and then brought it heavily down in blow after blow, cutting me all over the body, across the face, hands, legs, anywhere, and causing the most intense pain. I writhed and twined and screamed out under the first few blows in my agony; then a feeling of blind passion came over me, and I caught at and struggled with him for the possession of the strap, but in vain; for he kept me at bay with one hand and continued to beat me cruelly till I fell and then, placing one foot upon my chest, he beat me again till his arm fell in weariness to his side.
“I’ll teach you to mind me another time,” he panted, as he gloated over me in his pitiful revenge for the beating he had himself received. “I’ll give you something to remember this day by;” and, as I rose, he once more began to strike me; but this time I caught at the strap and held it with hands and teeth, twisting it round me and holding on while he strove to drag it away.
My resistance seemed to half madden him as I still held on.
“Let go, you dog!” he roared, “let go!” but I held on the more tightly; when, beside himself with rage, as a loud knocking came now at the inner door, he caught up a heavy office ruler from the table and struck me so cruel a blow across the head that I staggered backwards, and should have fallen to the floor if the door had not been dashed in and Mary caught me up.
Chapter Six.
Under Mary’s Mask.
“You great coward!” she cried in a rage, as, sick, faint, and heavy, and seeing everything now as in a dream, I was lifted in her stout arms.
“Leave this room, woman!” I heard him say.
“Yes, and your house too, you wretch?” she retorted; and then I heard no more till I seemed to wake in a heavy, dull, throbbing fashion in the kitchen, where some one seemed to be wetting my head with water smelling very strongly of pickles.
The place looked as if it was early morning, and the walls, with the dresser, plates, and tureens, and the bright tin dish-covers, seemed to be going round and round, but not regularly, for it was as if they went up and down in a wavy billowy way, and all the time I seemed to feel terribly sick.
“Oh, if I was a man!” I heard Mary mutter; and then more softly, “There, don’t you cry, Miss Hetty; he ain’t killed. It’s left off bleeding now. You go to your mar’s work-basket and get me a strip of rag. You ain’t got any sticking-plaister, have you?”
“I’ve got some black court-plaister, Mary.”
“That’ll do, chucky; go and get it. Poor boy, he has had a beating!” she muttered as I heard Hetty’s steps crossing the kitchen floor.
“I’m—I’m better now, Mary,” I said faintly; and I tried to rise.
“No, you ain’t better, neither; and you’ll just lie quite still till your head’s done,” said Mary, in her rough ungracious way. “You needn’t be afraid about him; he’s gone to bed and sent for the doctor, because he pretends he’s so bad, and Mr. Emmett the constable is upstairs with him, about going to the magistrates and taking up Mr. Wooster for beating him; but he didn’t say nothing about taking his self up for beating you, a great ugly coward! Oh! here you are, are you?”
“Here’s some clean soft linen and the court-plaister,” I heard Hetty say with a sob.
“Where’s your mar?” said Mary.
“Upstairs in papa’s room.”
“Ho?” ejaculated Mary, “and I hope she’ll stay there. There, don’t you begin a-crying again. Hold his hair back while I put this bit on. There, it’s not going to bleed any more, and you needn’t get shuddering like that at the sight of a little blood. That’s the way. Poor boy, it was enough to knock down a hox. Never mind the wet hair; it’s only vinegar and water. That’s the way; we’ll soon strap it up. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Miss Hetty, but your par’s a brute.”
“Oh, Mary! I won’t stop in the kitchen if you say such things,” cried Hetty, stamping her little foot.
“Then you’d better go back into the parlour, my dear, for I shall say what I like in my own kitchen; so there now.”
“It’s very cruel and unkind of you, Mary.”
“And it’s very cruel and unkind of your par to keep this poor boy half-starved in that orfis.”
“He did not, Mary. I’m sure papa would not do such a thing.”
“And that’s why you go without half your dinner, and then take and put it in Antony’s desk.”
“Mary!”
“Ah, you may Mary as long as you like, but I’ve seen you do it.”
“Hush! pray don’t,