The Poacher; Or, Joseph Rushbrook. Фредерик Марриет

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ “He would have peached, Joey—have had me transported, to work in chains for the rest of my days, merely for taking a few pheasants. Let us go home;” but Rushbrook did not move, although he proposed so doing.

      He leant upon his gun, with his eyes fixed in the direction where Byres had fallen.

      Joey stood by him—for nearly ten minutes not a word was spoken. At last Rushbrook said—

      “Joey, my boy, I’ve killed many a man in my time, and I have thought nothing of it; I slept as sound as ever the next night. But then, you see, I was a soldier, and it was my trade, and I could look on the man I had killed without feeling sorrow or shame; but I can’t look upon this man, Joey. He was my enemy; but—I’ve murdered him—I feel it now. Go up to him, boy—you are not afraid to meet him—and see if he be dead.”

      Joey, although generally speaking fear was a stranger to him, did, however, feel afraid; his hands had often been dyed with the blood of a hare or of a bird, but he had not yet seen death in his fellow-creatures. He advanced slowly and tremulously through the dark towards the furze-bush in which the body laid; Mum followed, raising first one paw and pausing, then the other, and as they came to the body, the dog raised his head and gave such a mournful howl, that it induced our hero to start back again. After a time Joey recovered himself; and again advanced to the body. He leant over it, he could distinguish but the form; he listened, and not the slightest breathing was to be heard; he whispered the pedlar’s name, but there was no reply; he put his hand upon his breast, and removed it reeking with warm blood.

      “Father, he must be dead, quite dead,” whispered Joey, who returned trembling. “What shall we do?”

      “We must go home,” replied Rushbrook; “this is a bad night’s work;” and, without exchanging another word until their arrival, Rushbrook and Joey proceeded back to the cottage, followed by Mum.

Chapter Five.

       Table of Contents

      The Sins of the Father are Visited upon the Child.

      Jane had remained in a state of great anxiety during her husband’s absence, watching and listening to every sound; every five minutes raising the latch of the door, and looking out, hoping to see him return. As the time went on, her alarm increased; she laid her head down on the table and wept; she could find no consolation, no alleviation of her anxiety; she dropped down on her knees and prayed.

      She was still appealing to the Most High, when a blow on the door announced her husband’s return. There was a sulken gloom over his countenance as he entered: he threw his gun carelessly on one side, so that it fell, and rattled against the paved floor; and this one act was to her ominous of evil. He sat down without speaking; falling back in the chair, and lifting his eyes up to the rafters above, he appeared to be in deep thought, and unconscious of her presence.

      “What has happened?” inquired his wife, trembling as she laid her hand on his shoulder.

      “Don’t speak to me now,” was the reply.

      “Joey,” said the frightened woman in a whisper, “what has he done?”

      Joey answered not, but raised his hand, red with the blood which was now dried upon it.

      Jane uttered a faint cry, dropped on her knees, and covered her face, while Joey walked into the back kitchen, and busied himself in removing the traces of the dark deed.

      A quarter of an hour had elapsed—Joey had returned, and taken his seat upon his low stool, and not a word had been exchanged.

      There certainly is a foretaste of the future punishment which awaits crime; for how dreadful were the feelings of those who were now sitting down in the cottage! Rushbrook was evidently stupefied from excess of feeling; first, the strong excitement which had urged him to the deed; and now from the reaction the prostration of mental power which had succeeded it. Jane dreaded the present and the future—whichever way she turned her eyes the gibbet was before her—the clanking of chains in her ears; in her vision of the future, scorn, misery, and remorse—she felt only for her husband. Joey, poor boy, he felt for both. Even the dog showed, as he looked up into Joey’s face, that he was aware that a foul deed had been done. The silence which it appeared none would venture to break, was at last dissolved by the clock of the village church solemnly striking two. They all started up—it was a warning—it reminded them of the bell tolling for the dead—of time and of eternity; but time present quickly effaced for the moment other ideas; yes, it was time to act; in four hours more it would be daylight, and the blood of the murdered man would appeal to his fellow-men for vengeance. The sun would light them to the deed of darkness—the body would be brought home—the magistrates would assemble—and who would be the party suspected?

      “Merciful Heaven!” exclaimed Jane, “what can be done?”

      “There is no proof;” muttered Rushbrook.

      “Yes, there is,” observed Joey, “I left my bag there, when I stooped down to—”

      “Silence!” cried Rushbrook. “Yes,” continued he, bitterly, to his wife, “this is your doing; you must send the boy after me, and now there will be evidence against me; I shall owe my death to you.”

      “Oh, say not so! say not so!” replied Jane, falling down on her knees, and weeping bitterly as she buried her face in his lap; “but there is yet time,” cried she, starting up; “Joey can go and fetch the bag. You will, Joey: won’t you, dear? you are not afraid—you are innocent.”

      “Better leave it where it is, mother,” replied Joey, calmly.

      Rushbrook looked up at his son with surprise; Jane caught him by the arm; she felt convinced the boy had some reason for what he said—probably some plan that would ward off suspicion—yet how could that be, it was evidence against them, and after looking earnestly at the boy’s face, she dropped his arm. “Why so, Joey?” said she, with apparent calmness.

      “Because,” replied Joey, “I have been thinking about it all this time; I am innocent, and therefore I do not mind if they suppose me guilty. The bag is known to be mine—the gun I must throw into a ditch two fields off. You must give me some money, if you have any; if not, I must go without it; but there is no time to be lost. I must be off and away from here in ten minutes; to-morrow ask every one if they have seen or heard of me, because I have left the house some time during the night. I shall have a good start before that; besides, they may not find the pedlar for a day or two, perhaps; at all events, not till some time after I am gone; and then, you see, mother, the bag which is found by him, and the gun in the ditch, will make them think it is me who killed him; but they will not be able to make out whether I killed him by accident, and ran away from fear, or whether I did it on purpose. So now, mother, that’s my plan, for it will save father.”

      “And I shall never see you again, my child!” replied his mother.

      “That’s as may be. You may go away from here after a time, mother, when the thing has blown over. Come, mother, there is no time to lose.”

      “Rushbrook, what say you—what think you?” said Jane to her husband.

      “Why, Jane, at all events, the boy must have left us, for, you see, I told Byres, and I’ve no doubt but he told the keeper, if he met СКАЧАТЬ