Mehalah. Baring-Gould Sabine

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      Chapter 2 The Rhyn

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      "MOTHER," said Mehalah, "are you better now?"

      "Yes, the fit is off me, but I am left terribly weak."

      "Mother, will you give me the medal?"

      "What? Your grandmother's charm? You cannot want it!"

      "It brings luck, and saves from sudden death. I wish to give it to George."

      "No, Mehalah! You must keep it yourself."

      "It is mine, is it not?"

      "No, child; it is not yours yet. You shall have it some future day."

      "I want it at once, that I may give it to George. He has made me a present of this red kerchief for my neck, but I have made him no return I have nothing that I can give him save that medal. Let me have it."

      "It must not go out of the family, Mehalah."

      "It will not. You know what is between George and me."

      The old woman hesitated, but was so much in the habit of yielding to her daughter, that she was unable to maintain her opposition. She crept out of the room to fetch the article demanded of her.

      When she returned, Mehalah was standing before the fire.

      "There is it," grumbled the old woman. "But it must not go out of the family. Keep it yourself, Mehalah."

      The girl took the coin. It was a large silver token, the size of a crown, bearing on the face a figure of Mars in armour, with shield and brandished sword, between the zodiacal signs of the Ram and the Scorpion. The reverse was gilt, and represented a square divided into five and twenty smaller squares, each containing a number, so that the sum in each row, taken either vertically or horizontally, was sixty-five. The medal was undoubtedly foreign. Theophrastus Paracelsus, in his 'Archidoxa,' published in the year 1572, describes some such talisman, gives instructions for its casting, and says: "This seal or token gives him who carries it about him strength and security and victory in all battles, protection in all perils. It enables him to overcome his enemies and counteract their plots."

      The medal held by the girl belonged to the sixteenth century. Neither she nor her mother had ever heard of Paracelsus. The figures on the face passed their comprehension. The mystery of the square on the reverse had never been discovered by them. They knew only that the token was a charm, and that family tradition held it to secure the wearer against sudden death by violence.

      A hole was drilled through the piece, and a strong silver ring inserted. A broad silk riband of faded blue passed through the ring, so that the medal might be worn about the neck. For a few moments Mehalah studied the mysterious figures by the fire-light, then flung the riband round her neck, and hid the coin in her bosom.

      "I must light a candle," she said. She stopped by the table on her way across the room, and took up the glass upon it.

      "Mother," she said sharply; "who has been drinking here?"

      The old woman pretended not to hear the question, and began to poke the fire.

      "Mother, has Elijah Rebow been drinking spirits out of this glass?"

      "To be sure, Mehalah, he did just take a drop."

      "Where did he get it?"

      "Don't you think such a man as he should carry a bottle about with him? Most men go provided against the chill who can afford to do so."

      "Mother," said the girl impatiently, "you are deceiving me. I know he got the spirits here. I insist on being told how you came by them."

      The old woman made feeble and futile attempts to evade answering directly; but was at last forced to confess that on two occasions, of which this evening was one, Elijah Rebow had brought her a small keg ofrum.

      "You do not grudge it me, Mehalah, do you? It does me good when I am low after my fits."

      "I do not grudge it you," answered the girl; "but I do not choose you should receive favours from that man. He has been threatening us, and yet secretly he is making you presents. Why does he come here?" She looked full in her mother's face. "Why does he give you these spirits? He a man who never did a good action but asked a return in fourfold measure. I promise you, mother, if he brings here any more, that I will stave in the cask."

      The widow made piteous protest, but her daughter remained firm.

      "Now," said the girl, "this point is settled between us. Be sure I will not go back from my word. Now let me count the money." She lit a candle at the hearth, seated herself at the table, untied the pouch, and poured the contents upon the board.

      She sprang to her feet with a cry. Her eyes, wide open with dismay, were fixed on the little heap she had emptied on the table � a heap of shot, great and small, some pennypieces, and a few bullets.

      The girl was speechless. The old woman moved to the table and looked.

      "What is this, Mehalah?"

      "Look here! Lead, not gold."

      "There has been a mistake," said the widow, nervously, "Abraham has given you the wrong sack."

      "This is the right bag. He had no other. We have been robbed."

      The old woman was about to put her hand on the heap, but Mehalah arrested it.

      "Do not touch anything here," she said, "let all remain as it is till I bring Abraham."

      Abraham Dowsing, the shepherd, was a simple surly old man, honest but not intelligent, selfish but trustworthy. He was a fair specimen of the East Saxon peasant, a man of small reasoning power, moving like a machine, very slow, muddy in mind, only slightly advanced in the scale of beings above the dumb beasts; with instinct just awaking into intelligence, but not sufficiently awake to know its powers.

      On the fidelity of Abraham Dowsing, Mehalah felt СКАЧАТЬ