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arch disguise； and spoil his jest。 The face of the other； sullen and
fierce； but shrinking too； was that of a man who stood at bay； while
his firmly closed jaws； his puckered mouth； and more than all a
certain stealthy motion of the hand within his breast； seemed to
announce a desperate purpose very foreign to acting； or child’s
play。
Thus they regarded each other for some time； in silence。
‘Humph！’ he said when he had scanned his features； ‘I don’t
know you。’
‘Don’t desire to？’—returned the other； muffling himself as
before。
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‘I don’t；’ said Gabriel； ‘to be plain with you； friend； you don’t
carry in your countenance a letter of recommendation。’
‘It’s not my wish；’ said the traveller。 ‘My humour is to be
avoided。’
‘Well；’ said the locksmith bluntly； ‘I think you’ll have your
humour。’
‘I will； at any cost；’ rejoined the traveller。 ‘In proof of it； lay this
to heart—that you were never in such peril of your life as you have
been within these few moments； when you are within five minutes
of breathing your last； you will not be nearer death than you have
been to…night！’
‘Aye！’ said the sturdy locksmith。
‘Aye！ and a violent death。’
‘From whose hand？’
‘From mine；’ replied the traveller。
With that he put spurs to his horse； and rode away； at first
plashing heavily through the mire at a smart trot； but gradually
increasing in speed until the last sound of his horse’s hoofs died
away upon the wind； when he was again hurrying on at the same
furious gallop； which had been his pace when the locksmith first
encountered him。
Gabriel Varden remained standing in the road with the broken
lantern in his hand； listening in stupefied silence until no sound
reached his ear but the moaning of the wind； and the fast…falling
rain； when he struck himself one or two smart blows in the breast
by way of rousing himself； and broke into an exclamation of
surprise。
‘What in the name of wonder can this fellow be！ a madman？ a
highwayman？ a cut…throat？ If he had not scoured off so fast； we’d
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have seen who was in most danger； he or I。 I never nearer death
than I have been to…night！ I hope I may be no nearer to it for a
score of years to come—if so； I’ll be content to be no farther from
it。 My stars！—a pretty brag this to a stout man—pooh； pooh！’
Gabriel resumed his seat； and looked wistfully up the road by
which the traveller had come； murmuring in a half whisper：
‘The Maypole—two miles to the Maypole。 I came the other road
from the Warren after a long day’s work at locks and bells； on
purpose that I should not come by the Maypole and break my
promise to Martha by looking in—there’s resolution！ It would be
dangerous to go on to London without a light； and it’s four miles；
and a good half mile besides； to the Halfway…House； and between
this and that is the very place where one needs a light most。 Two
miles to the Maypole！ I told Martha I wouldn’t； I said I wouldn’t；
and I didn’t—there’s resolution！’
Repeating these two last words very often； as if to compensate
for the little resolution he was going to show by piquing himself on
the great resolution he had shown； Gabriel Varden quietly turned
back； determining to get a light at the Maypole； and to take
nothing but a light。
When he got to the Maypole； however； and Joe； responding to
his well…known hail； came running out to the horse’s head； leaving
the door open behind him； and disclosing a delicious perspective
of warmth and brightness—when the ruddy gleam of the fire；
streaming through the old red curtains of the common room；
seemed to bring with it； as part of itself； a pleasant hum of voices；
and a fragrant odour of steaming grog and rare tobacco； all
steeped as it were in the cheerful glow—when the shadows； flitting
across the curtain； showed that those inside had risen from their
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snug seats； and were making room in the snuggest corner （how
well he knew that corner！） for the honest locksmith； and a broad
glare； suddenly streaming up； bespoke the goodness of the
crackling log from which a brilliant train of sparks was doubtless
at that moment whirling up the chimney in honour of his
coming—when； superadded to these enticements； there stole upon
him from the distant kitchen a gentle sound of frying； with a
musical clatter of plates and dishes； and a savoury smell that made
even the boisterous wind a perfume—Gabriel felt his firmness
oozing rapidly away。 He tried to look stoically at the tavern； but his
features would relax into a look of fondness。 He turned his head
the other way； and the cold black country seemed to frown him off；
and drive him for a refuge into its hospitable arms。
‘The merciful man； Joe；’ said the locksmith； ‘is merciful to his
beast。 I’ll get out for a little while。’
And how natural it was to get out！ And how unnatural it
seemed for a sober man to be plodding wearily along through miry
roads； encountering the rude buffets of the wind and pelting of the
rain； when there was a clean floor covered with crisp white sand； a
well swept hearth； a blazing fire； a table decorated with white
cloth； bright pewter flagons； and other tempting preparations for a
well…cooked meal—when there were these things； and company
disposed to make the most of them； all ready to his hand； and
entreating him to enjoyment！
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Chapter 3
uch were the locksmith’s thoughts when first seated in the
snug corner； and slowly recovering from a pleasant defect
S
of vision—pleasant； because occasioned by the wind
blowing in his eyes—which made it a matter of sound policy and
duty to himself； that he should take refuge from the weather； and
tempted him； for the same reason； to aggravate a slight cough； and
declare he felt but poorly。 Such were still his thoughts more than a
full hour afterwards； when； supper over； he still sat with shining
jovial face in the same warm nook； listening to the cricket…like
chirrup of little Solomon Daisy； and bearing no unimportant or
slightly respected part in the social gossip round the Maypole fire。
‘I wish he may be an honest man； that’s all；’ said Solomon；
winding up a variety of speculations relative to the stranger；
concerning whom Gabriel had compared notes with the company；
and so raised a grave discussion； ‘I wish he may be an honest
man。’
‘So we all do； I suppose； don’t we？’ observed the locksmith。
‘I don’t；’ said Joe。
‘No！’ cried Gabriel。
‘No。 He struck me with his whip； the coward； when he was
mounted and I afoot； and I should be better pleased that he turned
out what I think him。’
‘And what may that be； Joe？’
‘No good； Mr Varden。 You may shake your head； father； but I
say no good； and will say no good； and I would say no good a
hundred times over； if that would bring him back to have the
drubbing he deserves。’
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