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NLP Research Group 9

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

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would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

thing,--such

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would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

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would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

evening

How many times the word 'evening' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

my

How many times the word 'my' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

not

How many times the word 'not' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

want

How many times the word 'want' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

reproach

How many times the word 'reproach' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

ordered

How many times the word 'ordered' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

paul

How many times the word 'paul' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

household

How many times the word 'household' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

night

How many times the word 'night' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

tears

How many times the word 'tears' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

fine

How many times the word 'fine' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

exceedingly

How many times the word 'exceedingly' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

perplexed

How many times the word 'perplexed' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

gallop

How many times the word 'gallop' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

care

How many times the word 'care' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

outbreaks

How many times the word 'outbreaks' appears in the text?

would go and look after it immediately and see how it was. He came to me again about an hour after, and told me the woman was very ill, and frighted with her condition; that she seemed to be very penitent for some things in her past life, which lay heavy upon her mind, believing she should die; that she asked him if there was no minister to comfort poor dying servants; and he told her that she knew they had no minister nearer than such a place, but that, if she lived till morning, he should be sent for. He told me, also, that he had removed her into a room where their chief workman used to lodge; that he had given her a pair of sheets, and everything he could that he thought she wanted, and had appointed another woman-servant to tend her and sit up with her. "Well," says I, "that's well; for I cannot bear to have poor creatures lie and perish, by the mere hardship of the place they are in, when they are sick and want help. Besides," said I, "some of those unfortunate creatures they call convicts may be peopie that have been tenderly brought up." "Really, sir," says he, "this poor creature, I always said, had something of a gentlewoman in her. I could see it by her behaviour, and I have heard the other women say that she lived very great once, and that she had fifteen hundred pound to her portion; and I dare say she has been a handsome woman in her time, and she has a hand as fine as a lady's now, though it be tanned with the weather. I dare say she was never brought up to labour as she does here, and she says to the rest that it will kill her." "Truly," says I, "it may be so, and that may be the reason that she faints under it;" and I added, "Is there nothing you can put her to within doors that may not be so laborious and expose her to so much heat and cold?" He told me yes, there was. He could set her to be the housekeeper, for the woman that lately was such was out of her time, and was married and turned planter. "Why, then, let her have it," said I, "if she recovers; and in the meantime go," said I, "and tell her so; perhaps the comfort of it may help to restore her." He did so, and with that, taking good care of her, and giving her good warm diet, the woman recovered, and in a little time was abroad again; for it was the mere weight of labour, and being exposed to hard lodging and mean diet, to one so tenderly bred, that struck her and she fainted at her work. When she was made housekeeper she was quite another body. She put all the household into such excellent order, and managed their provisions so well, that my tutor admired her conduct, and would be every now and then speaking of her to me, that she was an excellent manager. "I'll warrant," says he, "she has been bred a gentlewoman, and she has been a fine woman in her time too." In a word, he said so many good things of her that I had a mind to see her. So one day I took occasion to go to the plantation-house, as they called it, and into a parlour always reserved for the master of the plantation. There she had opportunity to see me before I could see her, and as soon as she had seen me she knew me; but indeed had I seen her an hundred times I should not have known her. She was, it seems, in the greatest confusion and surprise at seeing who I was that it was possible for any one to be; and when I ordered my manager to bring her into the room, he found her crying, and begged him to excuse her, that she was frighted, and should die away if she came near me. I, not imagining anything but that the poor creature was afraid of me (for masters in Virginia are terrible things), bade him tell her she need to be under no concern at my calling for her; for it was not for any hurt nor for any displeasure, but that I had some orders to give her. So, having, as he thought, encouraged her, though her surprise was of another kind, he brought her in. When she came in she held a handkerchief in her hand, wiping her eyes, as if she had cried. "Mrs. Housekeeper," said I, speaking cheerfully to her, "don't be concerned at my sending for you; I have had a very good account of your management, and I called for you to let you know I am very well pleased with it; and if it falls in my way to do you any good, if your circumstances will allow it, I may be willing enough to help you out of your misery." She made low courtesies, but said nothing. However, she was so far encouraged that she took her hand from her face, and I saw her face fully; and I believe she did it desiring I should discover who she was; but I really knew nothing of her, any more than if I had never seen her in my life, but went on, as I thought, to encourage her, as I used to do with any that I saw deserved it. In the meantime my tutor, who was in the room, went out on some business or other--I know not what. As soon as he was gone she burst out into a passion, and fell down on her knees just before me: "Oh, sir!" says she, "I see you don't know me. Be merciful to me; I am your miserable divorced wife!" I was astonished; I was frighted; I trembled like one in an ague; I was speechless; in a word, I was ready to sink, and she fell flat on her face, and lay there as if she had been dead. I was speechless, I say, as a stone. I had only presence of mind enough to step to the door and fasten it, that my tutor might not come in; then, going back to her, I took her up and spoke comfortably to her, and told her I no more knew her than if I had never seen her. "Oh, sir!" said she, "afflictions are dreadful things; such as I have suffered have been enough to alter my countenance; but forgive," said she, "for God's sake, the injuries I have done you. I have paid dear for all my wickedness, and it is just, it is righteous, that God should bring me to your foot, to ask your pardon for all my brutish doings. Forgive me, sir," said she, "I beseech you, and let me be your slave or servant for it as long as I live; it is all I ask;" and with those words she fell upon her knees again and cried so vehemently that it was impossible for her to stop it or to speak a word more. I took her up again, made her sit down, desired her to compose herself, and to hear what I was going to say; though indeed it touched me so sensibly that I was hardly able to speak any more than she was. First, I told her it was such a surprise to me that I was not able to say much to her; and indeed the tears run down my face almost as fast as they did on hers. I told her that I should only tell her now, that, as nobody had yet known anything that had passed, so it was absolutely necessary not a word of it should be known; that it should not be the worse for her that she was thus thrown in my hands again; but that I could do nothing for her if it was known, and, therefore, that her future good or ill fortune would depend upon her entire concealing it; that, as my manager would come in again presently, she should go back to her part of the house, and go on in the business as she did before; that I would come to her and talk more at large with her in a day or two. So she retired, after assuring me that not a word of it should go out of her mouth; and indeed she was willing to retire before my tutor came again, that he might not see the agony she was in. I was so perplexed about this surprising incident that I hardly knew what I did or said all that night; nor was I come to any settled resolution in the morning what course to take in it. However, in the morning I called my tutor, and told him that I had been exceedingly concerned about the poor distressed creature, the housekeeper; that I had heard some of her story, which was very dismal; that she had been in very good circumstances and was bred very well, and that I was glad he had removed her out of the field into the house; but still she was almost naked, and that I would have him go down to the warehouse and give her some linen, especially head-clothes, and all sorts of small things such as hoods, gloves, stockings, shoes, petticoats, &c., and to let her choose for herself; also a morning-gown of calico, and a mantua of a better kind of calico; that is to say, new clothe her; which he did, but brought me word that he found her all in tears, and that she had cried all night long, and, in short, he believed she would indeed cry herself to death; that all the while she was receiving the things he gave her she cried; that now and then she would struggle with and stop it, but that then, upon another word speaking, she would burst out again, so that it grieved everybody that saw her. I was really affected with her case very much, but struggled hard with myself to hide it, and turned the discourse to something else. In the meantime, though I did not go to her the next day, nor till the third day, yet I studied day and night how to act, and what I should do in this remarkable case. When I came to the house, which was the third day, she came into the room I was in, clothed all over with my things which I had ordered her, and told me she thanked God she was now my servant again and wore my livery, thanked me for the clothes I had sent her, and said it was much more than she had deserved from me. I then entered into discourses with her, nobody being present but ourselves; and first I told her she should name no more of the unkind things that had passed, for she had humbled herself more than enough on that subject, and I would never reproach her with anything that was past. I found that she had been the deepest sufferer by far. I told her it was impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to receive her there as a wife who came over as a convict, neither did she know so little as to desire it; but I told her I might be instrumental to put an end to her misfortunes in the world, and especially to the miserable part of it which was her present load, provided she could effectually keep her own counsel and never let the particulars come out of her mouth, and that from the day she did she might date her irrevocable ruin. She was as sensible of the necessity of that part as I was, and told me all she could claim of me would be only to deliver her from her present calamity that she was not able to support; and that then, if I pleased, she might live such a life as that she might apply the residue of what time she should have wholly to repentance; that she was willing to do the meanest offices in the world for me; and though she should rejoice to hear that I would forgive her former life, yet that she would not look any higher than to be my servant as long as she lived; and, in the meantime, I might be satisfied she would never let any creature so much as know that I had ever seen her before. I asked her if she was willing to let me into any part of the history of her life since she and I parted; but I did not insist upon it otherwise than as she thought convenient. She said, as her breach with me began first in folly and ended in sin, so her whole life afterwards was a continued series of calamity, sin and sorrow, sin and shame, and at last misery; that she was deluded into gay company and to an expensive way of living which betrayed her to several wicked courses to support the expenses of it; that after a thousand distresses and difficulties, being not able to maintain herself, she was reduced to extreme poverty; that she would many times have humbled herself to me in the lowest and most submissive manner in the world, being sincerely penitent for her first crime, but that she could never hear of me, nor which way I was gone; that she was by that means so abandoned that she wanted bread, and those wants and distresses brought her into bad company of another kind, and that she fell in among a gang of thieves, with whom she herded for some time, and got money enough a great while, but under the greatest dread and terror imaginable, being in the constant fear of coming to shame; that afterwards what she feared was come upon her, and for a very trifling attempt in which she was not principal, but accidentally concerned, she was sent to this place. She told me her life was such a collection of various fortunes--up and down, in plenty and in misery, in prison and at liberty, at ease and in torment--that it would take up a great many days to give me a history of it; that I was come to see the end of it, as I had seen the best part of the beginning; that I knew she was brought up tenderly and fared delicately; but that now she was, with the prodigal, brought to desire husks with swine, and even to want that supply. Her tears flowed so strongly upon this discourse that they frequently interrupted her, so that she could not go on without difficulty, and at last could not go on at all. So I told her I would excuse her telling any more of her story at that time; that I saw it was but a renewing of her grief, and that I would rather contribute to her forgetting what was past, and desired her to say no more of it; so I broke off that part. In the meantime I told her, since Providence had thus cast her upon my hands again, I would take care that she should not want, and that she should not live hardly neither, though I could go no further at present; and thus we parted for that time, and she continued in the business of housekeeper; only that, to ease her, I gave her an assistant; and, though I would not have it called so, it was neither more or less than a servant to wait on her and do everything for her; and told her, too, that it was so. After she had been some time in this place she recovered her spirits and grew cheerful; her fallen flesh plumped up, and the sunk and hollow parts filled again, so that she began to recover something of that brightness and charming countenance which was once so very agreeable to me; and sometimes I could not help having warm desires towards her, and of taking her into her first station again; but there were many difficulties occurred which I could not get over a great while. But in the meantime another odd accident happened which put me to a very great difficulty, and more than I could have thought such a thing could be capable of. My tutor, a man of wit and learning, and full of generous principles, who was at first moved with compassion for the misery of this gentlewoman, and, even then, thought there were some things more than common in her, as I have hinted; now when, as I say, she was recovered, and her sprightly temper restored and comforted, he was charmed so with her conversation that, in short, he fell in love with her. I hinted in my former account of her that she had a charming tongue, was mistress of abundance of wit, that she sung incomparably fine, and was perfectly well-bred. These all remained witli her still, and made her a very agreeable person; and, in short, he came to me one evening and told me that he came to ask my leave to let him marry the housekeeper. I was exceedingly perplexed at this proposal, but, however, I gave him no room to perceive that. I told him I hoped he had considered well of it before he brought it so far as to offer it to me, and supposed that he had agreed that point so that I had no consent to give, but as she had almost four years of her time to serve. He answered no; he paid such a regard to me that he would not so much as take one step in such a thing without my knowledge, and assured me he had not so much as mentioned it to her. I knew not what answer indeed to make to him, but at last I resolved to put it off from myself to her, because then I should have opportunity to talk with her beforehand. So I told him he was perfectly free to act in the matter as he thought fit; that I could not say either one thing or another to it, neither had I any right to meddle in it. As to her serving out her time with me, that was a trifle, and not worth naming, but I hoped he would consider well every circumstance before he entered upon such an affair as that. He told me he had fully considered it already, and that he was resolved, seeing I was not against it, to have her whatever came of it, for he believed he should be the happiest man alive with her. Then he ran on in his character of her, how clever a woman she was in the management of all manner of business, how admirable conversation she was, what a wit, what a memory, what a vast share of knowledge, and the like; all which I knew to be the truth, and yet short of her just character too; for, as she was all that formerly when she was mine, she was vastly improved in the school of affliction, and was all the bright part, with a vast addition of temper, prudence, judgment, and all that she formerly wanted. I had not much patience, as you may well imagine, till I saw my honest housekeeper, to communicate this secret to her, and to see what course she would steer on so nice an occasion. But I was suddenly taken so ill with a cold which held for two days that I could not stir out of doors; and in this time the matter was all done and over; for my tutor had gone the same night and made his attack; but was coldly received at first, which very much surprised him, for he made no doubt to have her consent at first word. However, the next day he came again, and again the third day, when, finding he was in earnest, and yet that she could not think of anything of that kind, she told him, in few words, that she thought herself greatly obliged to him for such a testimony of his respect to her, and should have embraced it willingly, as anybody would suppose one in her circumstances should do, but that she would not abuse him so much, for that she must acknowledge to him she was under obligations that prevented her; that was, in short, that she was a married woman and had a husband alive. This was so sincere but so effectual an answer that he could have no room to reply one word to it, but that he was very sorry, and that it was a very great affliction to him, and as great a disappointment as ever he met with. The next day after he had received this repulse I came to the plantation-house, and, sending for the housekeeper, I began with her, and told her that I understood she would have a very advantageous proposal made to her, and that I would have her consider well of it, and then told her what my tutor had said to me. She immediately fell a-crying, at which I seemed to wonder very much. "Oh, sir!" says she, "how can you name such a thing to me?" I told her that I could name it the better to her because I had been married myself since I parted from her. "Yes, sir," says she; "but the case alters; the crime being on my side, I ought not to marry; but," says she, "that is not the reason at all, but I cannot do it." I pretended to press her to it, though not sincerely, I must acknowledge, for my heart had turned toward her for some time, and I had fully forgiven her in my mind all her former conduct; but, I say, I seemed to press her to it, at which she burst out in a passion. "No, no," says she; "let me be your slave rather than the best man's wife in the world." I reasoned with her upon her circumstances, and how such a marriage would restore her to a state of ease and plenty, and none in the world might ever know or suspect who or what she had been. But she could not bear it; but, with tears, again raising her voice that I was afraid she would be heard, "I beseech you," says she, "do not speak of it any more. I was once yours, and I will never belong to any man else in the world. Let me be as I am, or anything else you please to make me, but not a wife to any man alive but yourself." I was so moved with the passion she was in at speaking this that I knew not what I said or did for some time. At length I said to her, "It is a great pity you had not long ago been as sincere as you are now; it had been better for us both. However, as it is, you shall not be forced to anything against your mind, nor shall you be the worse treated for refusing; but how will you put him off? No doubt he expects you will receive his proposal as an advantage; and as he sees no farther into your circumstances, so it is." "Oh, sir!" says she, "I have done all that already. He has his answer, and is fully satisfied. He will never trouble you any more on that head;" and then she told me what answer she had given him. From that minute I resolved that I would certainly take her again to be my wife as before. I thought she had fully made me amends for her former ill conduct, and she deserved to be forgiven (and so indeed she did, if ever woman did, considering also what dreadful penance she had undergone, and how long she had lived in misery and distress); and that Providence had, as it were, cast her upon me again, and, above all, had given her such an affection to me and so resolved a mind that she could refuse so handsome an offer of deliverance rather than be farther separated from me. As I resolved this in my mind, so I thought it was cruel to conceal it any longer from her. Nor, in deed, could I contain myself any longer, but I took her in my arms: "Well," says I, "you have given me such a testimony of affection in this that I can no longer withstand. I forgive you all that ever was between us on this account, and, since you will be nobody's but mine, you shall be mine again as you were at first." But this was too much for her the other way, and now she was so far overcome with my yielding to her that, had she not got vent to her passion by the most vehement crying, she must have died in my arms; and I was forced to let her go and set her down in a chair, where she cried for a quarter of an hour before she could speak a word. When she was come to herself enough to talk again, I told her we must consider of a method how to bring this to pass, and that it must not be done by publishing there that she was my wife before, for that would expose us both, but that I would openly marry her again. This she agreed was very rational, and accordingly, about two months after, we were married again, and no man in the world ever enjoyed a better wife or lived more happy than we both did for several years after. And now I began to think my fortunes were settled for this world, and I had nothing before me but to finish a life of infinite variety, such as mine had been, with a comfortable retreat, being both made wiser by our sufferings and difficulties, and able to judge for ourselves what kind of life would be best adapted to our present circumstances, and in what station we might look upon ourselves to be most completely happy. But man is a short-sighted creature at best, and in nothing more than in that of fixing his own felicity, or, as we may say, choosing for himself. One would have thought, and so my wife often suggested to me, that the state of life that I was now in was as perfectly calculated to make a man completely happy as any private station in the world could be. We had an estate more than sufficient, and daily increasing, for the supporting any state or figure that in that place we could propose to ourselves or even desire to live in; we had everything that was pleasant and agreeable, without the least mortification in any circumstances of it; every sweet thing, and nothing to embitter it; every good, and no mixture of evil with it; nor any gap open where we could have the least apprehensions of any evil breaking out upon us. Nor indeed was it easy for either of us, in our phlegmatic, melancholy notions, to have the least imagination how anything disastrous could happen to us in the common course of things, unless something should befall us out of the ordinary way of Providence, or of its acting in the world. But, an unseen mine blew up all this apparent tranquillity at once; and though it did not remove my affairs there from me, yet it effectually removed me from them and sent me a-wandering into the world again--a condition full of hazards, and always attended with circumstances dangerous to mankind, while he is left to choose his own fortunes and be guided by his own short-sighted measures. I must now return to a circumstance of my history which had been past for some time, and which relates to my conduct while I was last in England. I mentioned how my faithful wife Moggy, with her tears and her entreaties, had prevailed with me not to play the madman and openly join in the rebellion with the late Lord Derwentwater and his party when they entered Lancashire, and thereby, as I may say, saved my life. But my curiosity prevailed so much at last that I gave her the slip when they came to Preston, and at least thought I would go and look at them, and see what they were likely to come to. My former wife's importunities, as above, had indeed prevailed upon me from publicly embarking in that enterprise and joining openly with them in arms; and by this, as I have observed, she saved my life to be sure, because I had then publicly espoused the rebellion, and had been known to have been among them, which might have been as fatal to me afterwards, though I had not been taken in the action, as if I had. But when they advanced and came nearer to us to Preston, and there appeared a greater spirit among the people in their favour, my old doctor, whom I mentioned before, who was a Romish priest, and had married us, inspired me with new zeal, and gave me no rest till he obliged me, with only a good horse and arms, to join them the day before they entered Preston, he himself venturing in the same posture with me. I was not so public here as to

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

sleep

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

night----

How many times the word 'night----' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

various

How many times the word 'various' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

auntie

How many times the word 'auntie' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

where

How many times the word 'where' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

aunt

How many times the word 'aunt' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

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How many times the word 'screamed' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

galloping

How many times the word 'galloping' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

joyful

How many times the word 'joyful' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

angle

How many times the word 'angle' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

orchard

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

haste

How many times the word 'haste' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

march

How many times the word 'march' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

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would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

pocket

How many times the word 'pocket' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

ah

How many times the word 'ah' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

left

How many times the word 'left' appears in the text?

would miss him much. Was it because I was disappointed in love? I persuaded myself that. I loved Harold as much as I could ever love anyone, and I could not forsake him now that he needed me. But, but, but, I did not want to marry, and I wished that Harold had asked anything of me but that, because--because, I don't know what, and presently felt ashamed for being such a selfish coward that I grudged to make a little sacrifice of my own inclinations to help a brother through life. "I used to feel sure that Harry meant to come up to the scratch, but I suppose he's had plenty to keep him going lately without bothering his head about a youngster in short frocks and a pigtail," remarked uncle Jay-Jay that night. "Well, Sybylla, poor Harry has gone: we will all--even you included--miss him very much, I am sure. I used to think that he cared for you. It may be that he has not spoken to us on account of his financial failure, and it may be that I made a mistake," said aunt Helen when she was bidding me good night. I held my peace. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Boast Not Thyself of Tomorrow We felt the loss of the Beechams very, very much. It was sad to think of Five-Bob--pleasant, hospitable Five-Bob--as shut up, with no one but a solitary caretaker there pending the settling of the Beecham insolvency; with flowers running to seed unheeded in the wide old garden, grass yellowing on the lawns, fruit wasting in wain-loads in the great orchard, kennels, stables, fowl-houses, and cow-yards empty and deserted. But more than all, we missed the quiet, sunburnt, gentlemanly, young giant whose pleasant countenance and strapping figure were always welcome at Caddagat. Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay-Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment. We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool-Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time. On Boxing Day uncle Jay-Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment in the cool dense shade under the leafy kurrajong- and cedar-trees. To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate with joyful anticipation. Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months' holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern's to Paddy's Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain one of my ambitions--enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony? Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love--in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen--people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with "laying the jam on". I ate another fig and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal of my book by the clatter of galloping hoofs approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather, and its scarlet nostrils were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly. "I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?" he said hurriedly. "There's a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we're short-handed. I'm goin' on to knock them up at Bimbalong." "Hold hard," I replied. "We haven't a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I'll rouse them up at Birribalong." "Right you are, miss. Here's a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame at Dogtrap; an' wile I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed 'em in me pocket." He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards, on the ground--one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother's handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother's letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her--a sentiment which did not interest me. "Where are you off to?" inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house. I explained. "What horse are you going to take?" "Old Tadpole. He's the only one available." "Well, you be careful and don't push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea Creek, or he might drop dead with you. He's so fat and old." "All right," I replied, snatching a bridle and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure. It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit--the place where I was born--home! Save for the murmur of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence--sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig- and apricot-trees--laden to breaking point with ripe and ripening fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered--wonderful aberration from my usual thoughtlessness--that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read: No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M'Swat. You will remember Peter M'Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M'Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M'Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother. That letter wiped away ever vestige of my appetite for the dainties before me. M'Swat's! Send--me--to M'Swat's! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M'Swat's! Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M'Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt! The steel of my mother's letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, "I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years." I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was "You must think of something besides pleasure." The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed of natures very absurdly sanguine indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life. It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M'Swat's. I would not go--not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration. I stamped about in a fever of impatience until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict. "Well, child, what do you say?" "Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die." "My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done." The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's. I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters. We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did. Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word. "I am sorry for you," said grannie, "but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again." I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me. It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat! I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper. The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day. My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me. I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying: "The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them." I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet. Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat! We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss? It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN My Journey The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat. Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight. It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with passing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen passengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my sex, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about "the doin's of the 'Ouse". In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of Dick Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say: "If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience." I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke. I changed seats with the jockey, which put me beside a young gentleman of a literary turn of mind, with whom I had some conversation about books when the dust, rumble of wheels, and turf talk of my other neighbour permitted. They were all very kind to me--gave me fruit, procured me drinks of water, and took turns in nursing a precious hat, for which, on account of the crush, no safe place could be found among the other luggage. Before we had gone half our journey the horses knocked up. All the men were forced to walk up hills for miles and miles in the dust and heat, which did not conduce to their amiability, and many and caustic were the remarks and jokes made upon the driver. He wore out two whips upon his team, until the labour and excessive heat sent the perspiration rolling in rivulets down his face, leaving muddy tracks in the thick coating of dust there. The jockey assisted with his loaded instrument of trade, some of the passengers thrashed with sticks, and all swore under their breath, while a passing bullock-driver used his whip with such deadly effect, that the sweat which poured off the poor beasts was mingled with blood. "Why the deuce don't you have proper horses?" demanded the red-bearded passenger. The man explained that a ministerial party had chartered his best team to go on a tour of inspection to a mine; a brother coachman had been "stuck up" for horses, and borrowed a couple from him, whereupon he was forced to do with animals which had been turned out for a spell, and the heat and overloading accounted for a good part of the contretemps. However, we managed to catch our train, but had to rush for it without waiting for refreshments. Nice articles we looked--our hair grey with dust, and our faces grimy. The men took charge of me as carefully as though I had been specially consigned to their care. One procured my ticket, another secured me a seat, while a third took charge of my luggage; and they were just as thoughtful when we had to change trains. Off we went. Grannie had packed me quite a large box full of dainties. I produced it, the men provided drinks, and we had quite a pleasant picnic, with all the windows down to catch a little air. I love the rush and roar of the train, and wished on this occasion that it might go on and on for over, never giving me time to think or stop. But, alas, at 1.20 we pulled up at Yarnung, where a man came inquiring for a young lady named Melvyn. My fellow passengers collected my belongings, and I got out. "Good-bye, gentlemen; thank you very much for your kindness." "Good-bye, miss; you're welcome. Some of us might meet again yet. Ta-ta!" A shriek, a jerk, and the great train rushed on into the night, leaving me there on the insignificant little platform, feeling how lonely and unhappy, no one knew or cared. Mr M'Swat shouldered most of my luggage, I took the remainder, and we trudged off in the dark without a word on either side. The publican had given M'Swat the key, so that we might enter without disturbing the household, and he escorted me to a bedroom, where I tumbled into bed with expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT To Life It is indelibly imprinted on my memory in a manner which royal joy, fame, pleasure, and excitement beyond the dream of poets could never efface, not though I should be cursed with a life of five-score years. I will paint it truthfully--letter for letter as it was. It was twenty-six miles from Yarnung to Barney's Gap, as M'Swat's place was named. He had brought a light wagonette and pair to convey me thither. As we drove along, I quite liked my master. Of course, we were of calibre too totally unlike ever to be congenial companions, but I appreciated his sound common sense in the little matters within his range, and his bluntly straightforward, fairly good-natured, manner. He was an utterly ignorant man, with small ideas according to the sphere which he fitted, and which fitted him; but he was "a man for a' that, an' a' that". He and my father had been boys together. Years and years ago M'Swat's father had been blacksmith on my father's station, and the little boys had played together, and, in spite of their then difference in station, had formed a friendship which lived and bore fruit at this hour. I wished that their youthful relations had been inimical, not friendly. We left the pub in Yarnung at nine, and arrived at our destination somewhere about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had waxed quite cheerful, and began to look upon the situation in a sensible light. It was necessary that I should stand up to the guns of life at one time or another, and why not now? M'Swat's might not be so bad after all. Even if they were dirty, they would surely be willing to improve if I exercised tact in introducing a few measures. I was not afraid of work, and would do many things. But all these ideas were knocked on the head, like a dairyman's surplus calves, when on entering Barney's Gap we descended a rough road to the house, which was built in a narrow gully between two steep stony hills, which, destitute of grass, rose like grim walls of rock, imparting a desolate and prison-like aspect. Six dogs, two pet lambs, two or three pigs, about twenty fowls, eight children which seemed a dozen, and Mrs M'Swat bundled out through the back door at our approach. Those children, not through poverty--M'Swat made a boast of his substantial banking account--but on account of ignorance and slatternliness, were the dirtiest urchins I have ever seen, and were so ragged that those parts of them which should have been covered were exposed to view. The majority of them had red hair and wide hanging-open mouths. Mrs M'Swat was a great, fat, ignorant, pleasant-looking woman, shockingly dirty and untidy. Her tremendous, flabby, stockingless ankles bulged over her unlaced hobnailed boots; her dress was torn and unbuttoned at the throat, displaying one of the dirtiest necks I have seen. It did not seem to worry her that the infant she hold under her arm like a roll of cloth howled killingly, while the other little ones clung to her skirts, attempting to hide their heads in its folds like so many emus. She greeted me with a smacking kiss, consigned the baby to the charge of the eldest child, a big girl of fourteen, and seizing upon my trunks as though they were feather-weight, with heavy clodhopping step disappeared into the house with them. Returning, she invited me to enter, and following in her wake, I was followed by the children through the dirtiest passage into the dirtiest room, to sit upon the dirtiest chair, to gaze upon the other dirtiest furniture of which I have ever heard. One wild horrified glance at the dirt, squalor, and total benightedness that met me on every side, and I trembled in every limb with suppressed emotion and the frantic longing to get back to Caddagat which possessed me. One instant showed me that I could never, never live here. "Have ye had yer dinner?" my future mistress inquired in a rough uncultivated voice. I replied in the negative. "Sure, ye'll be dyin' of hunger; but I'll have it in a twinklin'." She threw a crumpled and disgustingly filthy cloth three-cornered ways on to the dusty table and clapped thereon a couple of dirty knives and forks, a pair of cracked plates, two poley cups and chipped saucers. Next came a plate of salt meat, red with saltpetre, and another of dark, dry, sodden bread. She then disappeared to the kitchen to make the tea, and during her absence two of

ladies

How many times the word 'ladies' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

recits

How many times the word 'recits' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

forfeit

How many times the word 'forfeit' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

even

How many times the word 'even' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

taking

How many times the word 'taking' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

hat

How many times the word 'hat' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

protests

How many times the word 'protests' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

holidays

How many times the word 'holidays' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

lady

How many times the word 'lady' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

kerosene

How many times the word 'kerosene' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

beggar

How many times the word 'beggar' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

where

How many times the word 'where' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

slipped

How many times the word 'slipped' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

have

How many times the word 'have' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

winner

How many times the word 'winner' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

little

How many times the word 'little' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

are

How many times the word 'are' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

respecting

How many times the word 'respecting' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

boy

How many times the word 'boy' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

undertaken

How many times the word 'undertaken' appears in the text?

would remember that she had always said.... Clare fetched the cards. Louise! Louise! You have done yourself no good to-night. Shy? Nonsense! What is there to be shy about? A few words from Miss Hartill--a prompting or two--a leading question--could have broken the ice of your shyness for you, eh? And Miss Hartill knows it, as well as you, if not better. That shall not avail you. Who are you, to set Miss Hartill's conscience itching? Miss Hartill has a headache. Pull up your chair, and deal your cards, and stop Miss Hartill yawning, if you can. Believe me, it's your only chance of escape. Louise was a clumsy dealer. Her careful setting out of cards irritated Clare to snatching point. Olive triumphed in every game. On principle, Clare disliked losing, even at Beggar-my-Neighbour. And they played Beggar-my-Neighbour till ten o'clock. Louise grew more cheerful as the evening progressed, ventured a few sentences now and then. Clare was dangerously suave with both her guests; but Louise, taking all in good faith, hoped after all, that she had not appeared as stupid as she felt. It had been dreadful at first, she reflected, as she put on coat and hat. But it had gone better afterwards.... She didn't believe Miss Hartill was cross with her.... That had been a silly idea of her own.... Miss Hartill was just as usual. She made her farewells. Clare came out into the hall and ushered her forth. "Good-bye!" Louise smiled up at her. "It was so kind of you to have me. I have so much enjoyed myself." Then, the formula off her tongue: "Miss Hartill, I do hope your head's better?" "Thank you!" said Clare inscrutably. "Good-night!" Then, as the maid went down the stairs: "Louise!" "Yes, Miss Hartill?" Clare was smiling brilliantly. "Don't come again, Louise, until you can be more amusing. At any rate, natural. Good-night!" She shut the door. CHAPTER XVII Louise spent her Easter holidays among her lesson books. Miss Hartill and Miss Durand were in Italy, all responsibilities put aside for four blessed weeks, but for Louise there could be no relaxation. The examinations were to take place a few days before the summer term began, and their imminence overshadowed her. Useless for Miss Durand to extract a promise to rest, to be lazy, to forget all about lessons. Louise promised readily and broke her promise half-an-hour after she had waved the train out of the station. Impossible to keep away from one's History and Latin and Mathematics with examinations three weeks ahead. Miss Durand might preach; her overtaxed brain cry pax; her cramped body ache for exercise; but Louise knew herself forced to ignore all protests. She would rest when the examinations were over. Till then--revision, repetition--repetition, revision--with as little time as might be grudged to eating and sleeping and duty walks with Mrs. Denny. There was no time to lose. The nights swallowed up the days all too swiftly. Yet, waking one morning with a start to realise that the day of days had dawned at last, she found it incredible. The morning was exactly like other mornings, with the sun streaming blindingly in upon her, because she had forgotten, as usual, to drawn her blind at night, her head already aching a little, hot and heavy from uneasy sleep. All night long her brain had been alert, restless, beyond control. All night long it had tugged and fretted, like a leashed dog, at the surface slumber that tethered it. She felt confused, burdened with a half-consciousness of vivid, forgotten dreams. She dressed abstractedly, lesson books propped against her looking-glass, and wedged between soap-dish and pitcher. For the hundredth time she conned the technicalities of her work, and making no slips, grew more cheerful for it had been the letter, not the spirit, that had troubled her--little matters of rules and exceptions, of dates and derivations, that would surely trip her up. But she was feeling sure of herself at last, and thrilling as she was with nervous excitement, could yet be glad that the great day had dawned, and ready to laugh at all her previous despondencies. Things were turning out better than she had expected. There was bracing comfort in beginning with her own subject--Miss Hartill's own subject. She could have no fears for herself in the Literature examination. French in the afternoon, that was less pleasant. But she would manage--must, literally. "Miss Hartill expects----" She laughed. She supposed the sailors felt just the same about Nelson as she did about Miss Hartill. She wondered if Lady Hamilton had minded his only having one eye and one arm? Suppose Miss Hartill had only one eye and one arm? Oh! If anything happened to Miss Hartill...! She shivered at the idea and instantly witnessed, with all imaginable detail, the wreck of the train as it entered Utterbridge station, and she herself rescuing Miss Hartill, armless and blind, from the blazing carriage. She had her on the sofa, five years later, in the prettiest of invalid gowns, contentedly reliant on her former pupil. And Louise, blissfully happy, was her hands and feet and eyes, her nurse, her servant, her--(hastily Louise deprived her alike of income and friends) her bread-winner and companion. Here her French Grammar, slithering over the soap to the floor, woke her from that delicious reverie. She picked it up, and applied herself for a while to its dazing infinitives. But teeth-brushing is a rhythmic process: her thoughts wandered again perforce. She had got to be first.... Miss Hartill would be so pleased.... It would be heavenly to please Miss Hartill again as she used to do.... Nothing had been the same since Cynthia came.... She flushed to the eyes at the recollection of her last unlucky visit----"You needn't come again unless you can be more amusing. You might at least be natural...." Yet Miss Hartill had been so kind at the last ... had waved to her from the train.... The postman's knock startled her, disturbed her meditations anew. Letters! Was it possible? Would Miss Hartill have remembered? Have sent her, perhaps, a postcard? Stranger things had been. She had for weeks envisaged the possibility. She finished her dressing and tore downstairs. The maid was hovering over the breakfast-table. "Are there any letters, Baxter? Are there any letters?" But she had already caught sight of a foreign postcard on her plate, a postcard with an unfamiliar stamp. She scurried round the table, her heart thumping. But the big, adventurous handwriting was hatefully familiar. The postcard was from Miss Durand. She waited a moment, her lips parted vacantly, as was her fashion when controlling emotion; waited till the maid had gone. Then she crumpled and tore the thin cardboard in her hand and flung it at last on the floor, in a passion of disappointment. "She might have written!" cried Louise. "Oh, she might have written! It wouldn't have hurt her--a postcard." Presently a thought struck her. She groped under the table for the torn scraps of paper and spread them in her lap, piecing them eagerly, laboriously. Miss Hartill might have written on Miss Durand's postcard. She had the oblong fitted together at last and read the scrawl with impatient eagerness. Miss Durand was just sending her a line to wish her all imaginable luck. She and Miss Hartill were having a glorious time. They were sitting at that moment where she had made a cross on the picture postcard. She wished Louise could be with them to see the wonderful view over the valley and with good wishes from them both, was her Alwynne Durand.... Louise's eyes softened--"from them both." That was something! Miss Hartill had sent her a message. She sighed as she wrapped the scraps carefully in her handkerchief. Life was queer.... Here was Miss Durand, so kind, so friendly always--yet her kindness brought no pleasure.... And Miss Hartill, who could open heaven with a word--was not half so kind as Miss Durand. Louise marvelled that Miss Hartill could be so miserly. She was sure that if she, Louise, could make people utterly happy by kind looks and kind words, stray messages and occasional postcards, that she would be only too glad to be allowed to do it. To possess the power of giving happiness.... And with no more trouble to yourself than the writing of a postcard! Queer that Miss Hartill did not realise what her mere existence meant to people.... She couldn't realise it, of course ... that was it.... She thought so little about herself.... It was her own beautiful selflessness that made her seem, occasionally, hard--unkind even.... She didn't realise what she meant to people.... If she had, she would have written.... Of course she would have written ... just a word ... on Daffy's postcard.... Louise sighed again. One didn't ask much.... But it seemed the more humble one grew--the less one asked--the more unlikely people were to throw one even that little.... At any rate there was the examination to tackle.... If she did well--! She lost herself again in speculations as to the form Miss Hartill's approval might take. The family trooped in to breakfast as the brisk maid dumped a steaming dishful of liver and bacon upon the table. Louise occupied her place and began to spread her bread-and-butter, avoiding her father's eye. But, as she foresaw, she was not permitted to escape. Mr. Denny pounced upon the butter-dish. "Not with bacon," he remarked, with reproachful satisfaction, and removed it. Louise said nothing. She was careful not to look at her parent, for she knew that her expression was not permissible. His harmless tyrannies irritated her as invariably as her tricks of personality grated upon him. She thought him smug and petty, and despised him for his submissive attitude to her step-mother. His noisy interferences with her personal habits she thought intolerable, though she had learned to endure them stolidly. But most of all, she hated to see his fat, pudgy hands touching her food. She was accustomed to cut bread for the family. No one guessed why she had arrogated to herself that duty. And he, good man, would look at his daughter occasionally, and wonder why she was so unlike his satisfactory sons and their capable mother: would be vaguely annoyed by her silences, and by a certain expression that reminded him uncomfortably of his first "fine-lady" wife; would have an emotion of disquieted responsibility; would hesitate: would end by presenting his daughter with a five-shilling-piece, or be delivered from a dawning sense of responsibility by crumbs on the carpet, the muddy boots of a son and heir, or, as in the present instance, an unjustifiable predilection for butter. "Bread with your meat," he said firmly and handed her a full plate. Then he watched her with interest. His conception of the duties of fatherhood was realised in seeing that his children slightly over-ate themselves at every meal. He did as he would be done by. Louise picked up knife and fork unwillingly. She was dry-mouthed with excitement and the beginnings of a headache, and the liberal portion of hot, rich food sickened her. But anything was better than a fuss. She sliced idly at the slab of liver. Opportunity beckoned Mr. Denny. "Don't play with your food," said the father sharply. She ate a few mouthfuls, conscious of his supervision. Satisfied, he turned at last to his own breakfast. There was a peaceful interval. The children talked among themselves. Mrs. Denny, hidden behind her tea-cosy, was exclusively concerned with the table manners of the youngest boy. The moment was propitious. Softly Louise rose and slipped to the sideboard. Her plate once hidden behind the biscuit-tin.... Mr. Denny looked up. He was ever miraculously alert at breakfast. "More bacon, Louise?" "No, thank you, Father," said Louise fervently. "Have you finished your plate?" "Yes, Father." Her brothers gave tongue joyously. "Oh-h! You whopper!" "Oh, Father, she hasn't!" "Mother, did you hear? Louise says she's finished her bacon. She hasn't." "Not near!" "Not half!" "Not a quarter!" "Well--of all the whopping lies!" Mr. Denny sprang up, his eyes glistening. He, too, enjoyed a scene. The plate was retrieved from its hiding-place and its guilty burden laid bare. "Emma, do you see this? Emma! Leave that child alone and attend to me! Flagrant! Flagrant disobedience! Louise, I told you to eat it. Turning up your nose at good food! There's many a child would be thankful--Emma! Am I to be disobeyed by my own children? And a lie into the bargain! If that is the way you are taught at your fine school, I'll take you away. Disgraceful! Eat it up now. Emma! Are you or are you not going to back me up? Is all that food to be wasted?" Mrs. Denny's calm eyes surveyed the excited table. "Don't fuss, Edwin. Louise, eat up your bacon." "I can't," said Louise sullenly. "Then you shouldn't have taken so much." "I didn't. It was Father----" "Eat it up at once," said Mrs. Denny peremptorily, as the baby cast his spoon upon the carpet. The tone of her voice ended the discussion. Mr. Denny watched his daughter triumphantly, as she toiled over her task, called her attention to a piece of bacon she had left on the edge of her plate, and when she had finished told her she was a good girl and that it would do her good. After which he gave her a shilling. "I don't want it," muttered Louise. "You don't want it?" repeated Mr. Denny incredulously. Louise looked at him. There was a world of uncomprehending contempt in the eyes of father and child alike, though the father's were amused, where the child's were bitter. Mr. Denny laughed jollily. "I say, kids! Hear that? Your sister here hasn't any use for a shilling. Bet you haven't either! Eh? I don't think!" Ensued clamour, with jostling and laughter and clutching of coins, from which the head of the house retired to his chair by the fire, chuckling and content. He enjoyed distributing largesse, especially where there was no great need for it, though he was liberal enough to famous charities. He never gave to beggars, on principle. Louise slipped out of the room under cover of the noise, and was dressed and departing when her step-mother called her back. "Louise! You stay to lunch to-day, don't you?" "At school? Oh no, Mamma. Holidays, you know! They only open a class-room for the exam." "The fifty-pound job, eh?" Her father eyed her over the top of his paper approvingly. For once his daughter was showing a proper spirit. "Go in and win, my girl! I've given you the best education money could buy. If you don't get it, you jolly well ought to. Fifty quid, eh? I wasn't given the chance of earning fifty quid when I was thirteen. Shop-boy, I was. Started as shop-boy like me father before me." His wife cut in sharply. "Isn't there an afternoon examination? I understood----" "Yes, Mamma. But no dinners. It's all shut." Mrs. Denny frowned. "It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches--you must take some sandwiches--spring cleaning--maids all busy----" "I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened. "I thought the cleaning was over--not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy. His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron. "Very well! Ask cook to--no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years--not thoroughly." "The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise. "Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room." Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut. "Where's cook going?" said her father. She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath. "Oh, in the lumber-room," said Mrs. Denny easily. "It only wants papering. A nice, big room! A sloping roof, of course. But with her wages, if she can't put up with a sloping roof--! But it'll take some clearing! You wouldn't believe what an amount of rubbish has collected." "It's not rubbish," said Louise. Her voice was low with passion. "It's not rubbish! You shan't touch it." Mrs. Denny spun round amazedly: Her step-daughter, the loaf clutched to her breast with an unconscious gesture, the big knife gleaming, was a tragi-comic figure. "What on earth----?" she began. Louise leaned forward, hot-eyed. "Mamma! You won't! You can't! You mustn't! Father, don't let her! That's Mother's room! If you put cook in Mother's room----" She choked. A priestess defending her altars could have used her accents. Mr. Denny put down his paper. "What's the matter with the girl?" he demanded. Mrs. Denny shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea! I don't know what she means. Put down that knife; Louise--you'll cut yourself. And mind your own business, please." "You don't understand!" Louise fought for calmness, for words that should enlighten and persuade. "I didn't mean to interfere. But the big attic! Mamma! Father! That's my room. I always go there--do my lessons there--I love it! You don't know how I love it. You see----" She paused helplessly. "But you've got the nursery to sit in," said Mrs. Denny, equally helpless. "I'm sorry, Louise, if you've taken a fancy to the room--but I want it for cook." Louise made her way to the hearth and stood between the pair. "Mamma--please! Please! Please! There's the other attic for cook--not this one!" "Now be quiet, Louise!" Mrs. Denny was getting impatient. Suddenly Louise lost grip of herself. "It's not right! It's not right! You've got all the house! Every room is yours and you grudge me that one! Nobody's ever wanted it but me! It's mine! You've got your lovely rooms--drawing-room, and dining-room, and morning-room, and bedroom, and summerhouse, and the boys have got the nursery and the maids have got the kitchen, and yet you won't let me have the attic! It's not fair! It's mean! Why can't cook have the other attic? Not this one! Not this one!" "But why? Why?" Mrs. Denny was more bewildered than angry. She looked down at her step-daughter as a St. Bernard looks at an aggressive kitten. Desperately Louise tore off her veils. "Because of Mother. Can't you understand? All her things are there. She's there! So I've always played up there. Oh, won't you understand?" Mrs. Denny flushed. "You talk a lot of nonsense, Louise. Finish your sandwiches. You'll be late." "Then you will leave it, as it is?" "Certainly not. I told you--I need it for cook." Louise turned to her father with a frenzied gesture. "Father! Don't let her! Don't let her touch it! Oh, how can you let her touch it?" Mr. Denny put down his paper, staring from one to the other. "Emma? What's she driving at?" "To control the household, apparently. She's a very impertinent child," said Mrs. Denny impatiently. "Father! I'm not! I don't! Father! I only want her to leave my attic alone! Father----" "Don't worry your father now," began Mrs. Denny. "He's my father! I can speak to him if I choose," cried Louise shrilly. "Now then, now then!" reasoned Mr. Denny heavily. "Can't have you rude to your mother, you know." Louise gave herself up to her passion. "She's not my mother! I call her Mamma! She's not my mother! Mother wouldn't be so cruel! To take away all I've got like that. Her books are there! Her things! It's always been our room--hers and mine! And to take it away! To put cook--it's horrible! It's wicked! It's stealing! I hate her! I hate you--all of you! I'll never forget--never--never--never!" She stopped abruptly on a high note, stared blindly at the outraged countenances that opposed her, and fled from the room. They listened to the clatter of umbrellas in the hall stand, to the furious hands fumbling for mackintosh and satchel, to the bang of the hall door. Mr. Denny whistled. "Hot stuff! What? I never knew she had it in her." There was a curious element of approval in his tone. He respected volubility. His wife frowned; then, she, too, began to laugh. She was as incapable as he of imagining the state of nerves that could lead, in Louise, to such an outburst. To speak one's mind, noisily and emphatically, was a daily occurrence for her. Silence was stupidity, and meekness irritating. This "row" was unusual because Louise had taken part in it, but she certainly thought no worse of her step-daughter on that account. The child should be sent to bed early as a punishment, she decided, but good-humouredly enough. She was too thick-skinned to be pricked by Louise's repudiation. She dismissed it as "temper." Its underlying criticism of her character escaped her utterly. By the time the attic was cleared and the paperhanger at work, she had forgotten the matter. CHAPTER XVIII It is not impossible to sympathise with Ahab. It must have been difficult for him, with his varied possessions, to realise the value to Naboth of his vineyard. He had offered compensation. Naboth would undoubtedly have gained by the exchange. Ahab, owning half Palestine, must have been genuinely puzzled by this blind attachment to one miserable half-acre. One wonders what would have happened if they had met to talk over the matter. Ahab, convinced of the generosity of his offer, courteously argumentative, carefully repressing his not unnatural impatience, would have contrasted favourably with the peasant, black, fierce, dumb, incapable of explaining himself, conscious only of his own bitter helplessness in the face of oppression and loss. The Naboth mood is a dangerous one. Fierce emotions, unable to disperse themselves in speech, can turn in again upon the mind that bred them, to work strange havoc. The affair of the attic, outwardly so trivial, shook the child's nature to its foundation. Though one's house be built of cards, it is none the less bedazing to have it knocked about one's ears. To Louise, the loss of her holy place, but yet more the manner of its loss, was catastrophic. Her nerves, frayed and strained by weeks of overwork and excitement, snapped under the shock. Her sense of proportion failed her. Miss Hartill, the examination, all that made up her life, faded before this monstrous desecration of an ideal. She suffered as Naboth, forgetting also his greater goods of life and kith and kin, suffered before her. Before she reached the school the violence of her emotion had faded, and she was in the first stage of the inevitable physical reaction. She felt weak and shaken. She was going, she knew, to her examination. She wondered idly why she did not feel nervous. She tried to impress the importance of the occasion upon herself, but her thoughts eluded her--sequence had become impossible. She gave up the attempt, and her mind, released, returned to the scene of the morning in incessant, miserable rehearsal. Mechanically she made her way into the school by the unfamiliar mistresses' entrance, greeted the little knot of competitors assembled in the hall. But if she were introspective and distraught, so were they: her silence was unnoticed. The nervous minutes passed jerkily. Louise thought that the clock must be enjoying himself. He was playing overseer; he wheezed and grunted as her father did at breakfast; had just such a bland, fat face. Her father would be a fat, horrible old man in another ten years. She was glad. Every one would hate him, then, as she hated him, show it as she dared not do. Miss Vigers interrupted her meditations; Miss Vigers, utterly unreal in holiday smiles and the first hobble-skirt in which her decent limbs had permitted themselves to be outlined. She marshalled the procession. The Lower Fifth class-room, newly scrubbed and reeking of naphthaline, with naked shelves and treble range of isolated desks, was unfamiliar, curiously disconcerting. Louise, ever perilously susceptible to outward conditions, was dismayed by the lack of atmosphere. She wriggled uneasily in her desk. It was uncomfortable, far too big for her: Agatha's initials, of an inkiness that had defied the charwoman, stared at her from the lid. She was at the back of the room. Between Marion's neat head and the coiffure of the little Jewess, the bored face of the examiner peered and shifted. He was speaking-- "You will find the questions on your desks. Write your names in the top right-hand corner of each page. Full name. Kindly number the sheets. You are allowed two and a half hours." A pause. Some rustling of papers and the snap and rattle of pencil-boxes. Then the voice of the examiner again-- "You may begin." Instantly a furious pen-scratching broke the hush. Louise glanced in the direction of the sound, and smiled broadly. Agatha had begun. Miss Hartill would have seen the joke, but the examiner was already absorbed in the book he had taken from his pocket. Louise gazed idly about her. So this was what the ordeal was like! There were her clean, blank papers on the desk before her, and the printed list of questions. She supposed she had better begin.... But there was plenty of time. She had a curious sense of detachment. Her body surrounded her, rigid, quiescent, dreading exertion. Her mind, on the contrary, was bewilderingly active, consciously alive with thoughts, as she had once, under a microscope, seen a drop of water alive with animalculi: thoughts, however, that had no connection with real life as it at the moment presented itself: thoughts that admitted the fact of the examination with a dreamy impersonality that precluded any idea of participation. Her mind felt comfortable in its warm bed of motionless flesh, would not disturb its repose for all the ultimate gods might offer: but was interested nevertheless in its surroundings, gazing out into them with the detached curiosity of an attic-dweller, peering out and down at a dwarfed and distant street. Yet each trivial object on which her eyes alighted gave birth to a train of thought that led separately, yet quite inevitably, to the memories that would shatter her quietude, as conscious and subconscious self struggled for possession of her mind. She stared at the intent backs of her neighbours. One by one they hunched forward, as each in turn settled to work. Louise considered them critically. What ugly things backs were! It was funny, but girls with dark skirts always pinned them to their blouses with white safety-pins, and _vice versa_. It made them look skewered.... Yet Miss Durand had said that backs were the most expressive part of the whole body.... That was the day they had seen the Watts pictures. But then the draperies of the great white figure in "Love and Death" were not fastened up in the middle with safety-pins.... That had been a wonderful picture.... She knew how the boy felt, how he fought.... How long had he been able to hold the door? she wondered. Characteristically, she never questioned the ultimate defeat. It was terrible to be so weak.... But the Death was beautiful.... pitying.... One wouldn't hate it while one resisted it, as one hated Mamma.... Mamma, forcing her way into an attic.... Louise writhed as she thought of it. The girl in front of her coughed, a hasty, grudging cough, recovered herself, and bent again to her work. Louise was amused. What a hurry she was in! What a hurry every one was in! How hot Marion's cheeks were! And Agatha.... Agatha was up to her wrists in ink.... Like the women in the French Revolution.... Though that was blood, of course.... They were steeped in gore.... It would be fascinating to write a story about the knitting women ... click--click--clicking--like a lot of pens scraping.... What were they all scribbling like that for? Of course, it was the examination.... There was a paper on her own desk too.... How funny! "Distinguish between Shelley the poet, and Shelley the politician. Illustrate your meaning by quotations." Shelley? The name was familiar.... She sells sea-shells.... "Give a short account of the life of Shakespeare." He had a wife, hadn't he? A narrow, grudging woman, who couldn't understand him.... A woman like Mamma.... Mamma, who was turning out the attic and laughing at Louise.... Not that that mattered--but to clear the attic--to take away Mother's things.... What would Mother do--little, darling Mother...? It was holidays.... Mother would know.... Mother would be there, waiting for Louise. A hideous picture rose up in Louise's mind. With photographic clearness she saw the attic and the faint shadow of her mother wavering from visibility to nothingness as the sunlight caught and lost her impalpable outlines: there was a sound of footsteps--Louise heard it: the faint thing held out sweet arms and Louise strained towards them; but the door opened, and Mrs. Denny and the maids came in. Mamma pointed, while the maids laughed and took their brooms and chased the forlorn appearance, and it fled before them about the room, cowering, afraid, calling in its whisper to Louise. But the maids closed in, and swept that shrinking nothingness into the dark corner behind the old trunk: but when they had moved the trunk, there was nothing to be seen but a delicate cobweb or two. So they swept it into the dustpan and settled down to the scrubbing of the floor. The picture faded. Louise crouched over her desk, her head in her hands. About her the pens scratched rhythmically. For a space she existed merely. She could not have told how long it was before thoughts began once more to drift across the blankness

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

robust

How many times the word 'robust' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

strength

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

marshal

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

asked

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

says

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

kidding

How many times the word 'kidding' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

year

How many times the word 'year' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

alluding

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

fair

How many times the word 'fair' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

conceivable

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

dicon

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would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

live

How many times the word 'live' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

mouth

How many times the word 'mouth' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

against

How many times the word 'against' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

hugh

How many times the word 'hugh' appears in the text?

would the gentles Sir Nicholas Boarhunte, or Sir Bernard Brocas, of Roche Court, say if they saw such a thing--or, perhaps, even the King's own Majesty himself, who often has ridden past this way, and who loves his falcons as he loves his sons? It would be the downfall of my house." "The matter is not past mending," said Alleyne. "I pray you, good dame, to give me those three pigment-pots and the brush, and I shall try whether I cannot better this painting." Dame Eliza looked doubtfully at him, as though fearing some other stratagem, but, as he made no demand for ale, she finally brought the paints, and watched him as he smeared on his background, talking the while about the folk round the fire. "The four forest lads must be jogging soon," she said. "They bide at Emery Down, a mile or more from here. Yeomen prickers they are, who tend to the King's hunt. The gleeman is called Floyting Will. He comes from the north country, but for many years he hath gone the round of the forest from Southampton to Christchurch. He drinks much and pays little but it would make your ribs crackle to hear him sing the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.' Mayhap he will sing it when the ale has warmed him." "Who are those next to him?" asked Alleyne, much interested. "He of the fur mantle has a wise and reverent face." "He is a seller of pills and salves, very learned in humors, and rheums, and fluxes, and all manner of ailments. He wears, as you perceive, the vernicle of Sainted Luke, the first physician, upon his sleeve. May good St. Thomas of Kent grant that it may be long before either I or mine need his help! He is here to-night for herbergage, as are the others except the foresters. His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye. The lusty man next him with the red head I have not seen before. The four on this side are all workers, three of them in the service of the bailiff of Sir Baldwin Redvers, and the other, he with the sheepskin, is, as I hear, a villein from the midlands who hath run from his master. His year and day are well-nigh up, when he will be a free man." "And the other?" asked Alleyne in a whisper. "He is surely some very great man, for he looks as though he scorned those who were about him." The landlady looked at him in a motherly way and shook her head. "You have had no great truck with the world," she said, "or you would have learned that it is the small men and not the great who hold their noses in the air. Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves. Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another. Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit. Those are the true gentles. But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing. This youth is a scholar from Cambrig, where men are wont to be blown out by a little knowledge, and lose the use of their hands in learning the laws of the Romans. But I must away to lay down the beds. So may the saints keep you and prosper you in your undertaking!" Thus left to himself, Alleyne drew his panel of wood where the light of one of the torches would strike full upon it, and worked away with all the pleasure of the trained craftsman, listening the while to the talk which went on round the fire. The peasant in the sheepskins, who had sat glum and silent all evening, had been so heated by his flagon of ale that he was talking loudly and angrily with clenched hands and flashing eyes. "Sir Humphrey Tennant of Ashby may till his own fields for me," he cried. "The castle has thrown its shadow upon the cottage over long. For three hundred years my folk have swinked and sweated, day in and day out, to keep the wine on the lord's table and the harness on the lord's back. Let him take off his plates and delve himself, if delving must be done." "A proper spirit, my fair son!" said one of the free laborers. "I would that all men were of thy way of thinking." "He would have sold me with his acres," the other cried, in a voice which was hoarse with passion. "'The man, the woman and their litter'--so ran the words of the dotard bailiff. Never a bullock on the farm was sold more lightly. Ha! he may wake some black night to find the flames licking about his ears--for fire is a good friend to the poor man, and I have seen a smoking heap of ashes where over night there stood just such another castlewick as Ashby." "This is a lad of mettle!" shouted another of the laborers. "He dares to give tongue to what all men think. Are we not all from Adam's loins, all with flesh and blood, and with the same mouth that must needs have food and drink? Where all this difference then between the ermine cloak and the leathern tunic, if what they cover is the same?" "Aye, Jenkin," said another, "our foeman is under the stole and the vestment as much as under the helmet and plate of proof. We have as much to fear from the tonsure as from the hauberk. Strike at the noble and the priest shrieks, strike at priest and the noble lays his hand upon glaive. They are twin thieves who live upon our labor." "It would take a clever man to live upon thy labor, Hugh," remarked one of the foresters, "seeing that the half of thy time is spent in swilling mead at the 'Pied Merlin.'" "Better that than stealing the deer that thou art placed to guard, like some folk I know." "If you dare open that swine's mouth against me," shouted the woodman, "I'll crop your ears for you before the hangman has the doing of it, thou long-jawed lackbrain." "Nay, gentles, gentles!" cried Dame Eliza, in a singsong heedless voice, which showed that such bickerings were nightly things among her guests. "No brawling or brabbling, gentles! Take heed to the good name of the house." "Besides, if it comes to the cropping of ears, there are other folk who may say their say," quoth the third laborer. "We are all freemen, and I trow that a yeoman's cudgel is as good as a forester's knife. By St. Anselm! it would be an evil day if we had to bend to our master's servants as well as to our masters." "No man is my master save the King," the woodman answered. "Who is there, save a false traitor, who would refuse to serve the English king?" "I know not about the English king," said the man Jenkin. "What sort of English king is it who cannot lay his tongue to a word of English? You mind last year when he came down to Malwood, with his inner marshal and his outer marshal, his justiciar, his seneschal, and his four and twenty guardsmen. One noontide I was by Franklin Swinton's gate, when up he rides with a yeoman pricker at his heels. 'Ouvre,' he cried, 'ouvre,' or some such word, making signs for me to open the gate; and then 'Merci,' as though he were adrad of me. And you talk of an English king?" "I do not marvel at it," cried the Cambrig scholar, speaking in the high drawling voice which was common among his class. "It is not a tongue for men of sweet birth and delicate upbringing. It is a foul, snorting, snarling manner of speech. For myself, I swear by the learned Polycarp that I have most ease with Hebrew, and after that perchance with Arabian." "I will not hear a word said against old King Ned," cried Hordle John in a voice like a bull. "What if he is fond of a bright eye and a saucy face. I know one of his subjects who could match him at that. If he cannot speak like an Englishman I trow that he can fight like an Englishman, and he was hammering at the gates of Paris while ale-house topers were grutching and grumbling at home." This loud speech, coming from a man of so formidable an appearance, somewhat daunted the disloyal party, and they fell into a sullen silence, which enabled Alleyne to hear something of the talk which was going on in the further corner between the physician, the tooth-drawer and the gleeman. "A raw rat," the man of drugs was saying, "that is what it is ever my use to order for the plague--a raw rat with its paunch cut open." "Might it not be broiled, most learned sir?" asked the tooth-drawer. "A raw rat sounds a most sorry and cheerless dish." "Not to be eaten," cried the physician, in high disdain. "Why should any man eat such a thing?" "Why indeed?" asked the gleeman, taking a long drain at his tankard. "It is to be placed on the sore or swelling. For the rat, mark you, being a foul-living creature, hath a natural drawing or affinity for all foul things, so that the noxious humors pass from the man into the unclean beast." "Would that cure the black death, master?" asked Jenkin. "Aye, truly would it, my fair son." "Then I am right glad that there were none who knew of it. The black death is the best friend that ever the common folk had in England." "How that then?" asked Hordle John. "Why, friend, it is easy to see that you have not worked with your hands or you would not need to ask. When half the folk in the country were dead it was then that the other half could pick and choose who they would work for, and for what wage. That is why I say that the murrain was the best friend that the borel folk ever had." "True, Jenkin," said another workman; "but it is not all good that is brought by it either. We well know that through it corn-land has been turned into pasture, so that flocks of sheep with perchance a single shepherd wander now where once a hundred men had work and wage." "There is no great harm in that," remarked the tooth-drawer, "for the sheep give many folk their living. There is not only the herd, but the shearer and brander, and then the dresser, the curer, the dyer, the fuller, the webster, the merchant, and a score of others." "If it come to that." said one of the foresters, "the tough meat of them will wear folks teeth out, and there is a trade for the man who can draw them." A general laugh followed this sally at the dentist's expense, in the midst of which the gleeman placed his battered harp upon his knee, and began to pick out a melody upon the frayed strings. "Elbow room for Floyting Will!" cried the woodmen. "Twang us a merry lilt." "Aye, aye, the 'Lasses of Lancaster,'" one suggested. "Or 'St. Simeon and the Devil.'" "Or the 'Jest of Hendy Tobias.'" To all these suggestions the jongleur made no response, but sat with his eye fixed abstractedly upon the ceiling, as one who calls words to his mind. Then, with a sudden sweep across the strings, he broke out into a song so gross and so foul that ere he had finished a verse the pure-minded lad sprang to his feet with the blood tingling in his face. "How can you sing such things?" he cried. "You, too, an old man who should be an example to others." The wayfarers all gazed in the utmost astonishment at the interruption. "By the holy Dicon of Hampole! our silent clerk has found his tongue," said one of the woodmen. "What is amiss with the song then? How has it offended your babyship?" "A milder and better mannered song hath never been heard within these walls," cried another. "What sort of talk is this for a public inn?" "Shall it be a litany, my good clerk?" shouted a third; "or would a hymn be good enough to serve?" The jongleur had put down his harp in high dudgeon. "Am I to be preached to by a child?" he cried, staring across at Alleyne with an inflamed and angry countenance. "Is a hairless infant to raise his tongue against me, when I have sung in every fair from Tweed to Trent, and have twice been named aloud by the High Court of the Minstrels at Beverley? I shall sing no more to-night." "Nay, but you will so," said one of the laborers. "Hi, Dame Eliza, bring a stoup of your best to Will to clear his throat. Go forward with thy song, and if our girl-faced clerk does not love it he can take to the road and go whence he came." "Nay, but not too last," broke in Hordle John. "There are two words in this matter. It may be that my little comrade has been over quick in reproof, he having gone early into the cloisters and seen little of the rough ways and words of the world. Yet there is truth in what he says, for, as you know well, the song was not of the cleanest. I shall stand by him, therefore, and he shall neither be put out on the road, nor shall his ears be offended indoors." "Indeed, your high and mighty grace," sneered one of the yeomen, "have you in sooth so ordained?" "By the Virgin!" said a second, "I think that you may both chance to find yourselves upon the road before long." "And so belabored as to be scarce able to crawl along it," cried a third. "Nay, I shall go! I shall go!" said Alleyne hurriedly, as Hordle John began to slowly roll up his sleeve, and bare an arm like a leg of mutton. "I would not have you brawl about me." "Hush! lad," he whispered, "I count them not a fly. They may find they have more tow on their distaff than they know how to spin. Stand thou clear and give me space." Both the foresters and the laborers had risen from their bench, and Dame Eliza and the travelling doctor had flung themselves between the two parties with soft words and soothing gestures, when the door of the "Pied Merlin" was flung violently open, and the attention of the company was drawn from their own quarrel to the new-comer who had burst so unceremoniously upon them. CHAPTER VI. HOW SAMKIN AYLWARD WAGERED HIS FEATHER-BED. He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his grim, war-worn equipment. "Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid, however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish and satisfaction. "La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour! Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt! camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you, mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe, this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me. But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!" At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head. They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages. "Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of white sendall," said he. "Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a great package down in the corner. "Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale. Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast brushed it against some wall, coquin!" "Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away from the fierce eyes of the bowman. "I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp out his last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain and unease that I have done to earn these things you would be at more care. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one of them that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--an incense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope worked in pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denis in the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lest they fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of fur turned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and a box of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair of boots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So, the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go." "Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers. "Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, ma belle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, or what you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I have crowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring in wine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shall each empty a stoup with me." Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that or any other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gathered and came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Two of the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions off hurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distant and the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving the place of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handed new-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine, and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his painted long-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner. Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front of the blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart pot held in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and of good-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thick crop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmet grew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty years of age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grim marks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his pied merlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a type of man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men had been good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a man who was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse on his lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such a man as that? It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioning glance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised his flagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth. "A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?" "I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heard talk of their deeds." "By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrow sea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldst not shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but you would pink archer, squire, or knight. There are more breastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you." "And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John, pointing at the heap in the corner. "Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick it up. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where he need look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his hand out and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life. And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be with them! Arouse all together, mes enfants, under pain of my displeasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" "Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted the travellers, draining off their goblets. "Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again, since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin. Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?-- We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew." He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and ended with a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowman than a minstrel," said he. "Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked the gleeman, running his fingers over the strings. "Hoping that it will give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap at Alleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will even venture upon it." Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see that scene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirring were soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, the listening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in time to the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, all thrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire in the centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At the time he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which the jongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little ballad of the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this: What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows. What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove. What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And the land where the gray goose flew. What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. "Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight. "Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-time and after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon of Norwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmen that ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. I have seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half the Company into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it, until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of it ye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon an outland soil." Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid had placed a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it the knife, the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finally the smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archer settled himself to it like one who had known what it was to find good food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as his teeth. "It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bide scratching your backs at home when there are such doings over the seas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There is the whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves for pleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts." "And the wage?" asked a laborer. "You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best, and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend to treat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never a knight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How of all that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that you can see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the South French, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt! camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself." "It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer. "Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom. Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back, when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to the sword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron, or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country lout newly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping under his doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury de Chatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crowns out of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a French wench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it; but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thing if money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?" "It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archers to bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth Dame Eliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deep impression. "A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart. "Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi, aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!" "There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in his piping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear. As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretigny some six years back between our most gracious monarch and the

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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How many times the word 'toes' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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How many times the word 'trailing' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

lit

How many times the word 'lit' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

metal

How many times the word 'metal' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

viktor

How many times the word 'viktor' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

stands

How many times the word 'stands' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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How many times the word 'hair' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

formal

How many times the word 'formal' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

air

How many times the word 'air' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

seafood

How many times the word 'seafood' appears in the text?

xXx Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "xXx" by Rich Wilkes August 26, 2001 Third Draft FADE IN: EXT. PRAGUE - NIGHT On a hill above the city is an old CATHEDRAL. The night is spooky, with harsh shadows playing across the cobblestones and medieval walls. A NERVOUS YOUNG HACKER makes his way down an alley. There is a DOOR at the end of the alley. MUSIC can be faintly heard from inside. EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT High above the street an INTRUDER DRESSED ALL IN BLACK spies from the roof. He's watching with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES. He pulls out a CROSSBOW and FIRES. A BOLT flies, trailing CABLE. THUNK! It sticks into the alley wall below. EXT. THE ALLEY - NIGHT As he passes by the ominous Cathedral, the Hacker spins, sure he's heard something. But there's nothing there. He continues on. Then the Intruder comes sliding down the ZIP-LINE from above. WHAM! He kicks the Hacker into the wall, knocking him out. The Intruder pulls off his mask, revealing the chiseled features of a dashing BRITISH SECRET AGENT. His name is STERLING. STERLING I hate to drop in unexpectedly. Sterling searches the Hacker and pulls a SMALL BLACK CASE from his coat. Inside the case is a DATA CHIP. Sterling tucks it away. Sterling unzips his black jumpsuit, revealing a crisp TUXEDO underneath. He pulls out CAR KEYS. In a quick insert we see the "ASTON-MARTIN" LOGO. As he strolls back out the alley, he HEARS something and flattens against the wall. A BLACKED OUT SUV screeches to a stop, blocking his exit. The SUV's HEADLIGHTS illuminate the slumped Hacker. BAD GUYS get out to investigate, pulling out weapons. Cornered, Sterling heads deeper into the alley, staying in the shadows. He gets to that DOOR the Hacker was heading towards. As he PICKS THE LOCK Sterling can hear MUSIC from inside. He smooths his hair and prepares to "blend in" with the crowd. INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling comes through the door and his face falls. He's stepped into a loud METAL CONCERT. We see a GO-GO DANCER in LATEX. Onstage is RAMMSTEIN, a bizarre German industrial-metal band. The tattooed YOUNG CROWD slam dances and swings glo-stix over their heads. Some wear rubber BRAIN SKULLCAPS outfitted with fiber optic lights. It's a sea of SPIKED HAIR and BONDAGE OUTFITS. Sterling squares his jaw and starts pushing through the crowd. With his tuxedo he sticks out like a penguin in a chicken coop. ON THE BALCONY ABOVE THE CROWD stands a wild haired young GANGSTER with PIERCED BROWS. With him is a STREET-TOUGH GIRL with multi-colored hair. They look like a post-Apocalyptic Bonnie & Clyde. They are YORGI and PETRA. Yorgi checks his watch. His delivery is late. Then his CELL PHONE rings. He's getting the news from outside. He looks down, spots Sterling amidst the moshing crowd. With that look, that tux, there's no mistaking what he is. They make EYE CONTACT and Sterling gives a little nod. Yorgi calmly issues orders into his phone. Immediately VIKTOR starts moving in Sterling's direction. Viktor is huge, with a MOHAWK and a six-inch GOATEE. Sterling sees him advancing and makes for the exit, pushing through the freaky crowd. EXT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT Sterling's ASTON-MARTIN VANTAGE screeches away from the curb. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - MOVING - NIGHT Sterling is at the wheel of his spy car. He plugs the DATA CHIP into the dash and punches buttons. A computer screen says "DATA DOWNLOADING". He sees a BLACKED-OUT SUV racing up behind him. He accelerates and hits a SWITCH. ARMORED PLATING slides up over the rear window. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The SUV is right behind him. Viktor rolls down the passenger window, readies his PISTOL. The rear bumper of the spy car opens. SMOKE BOMBS drop out. They explode in MASSIVE CLOUDS, obscuring the narrow, street. Sterling skids around a corner. The blinded bad guys drive straight into a STOREFRONT. Glass and merchandise flies as the SUV gets stuck. The Aston-Martin rounds another corner and slides to a stop. Blocking the road ahead are two more SUV's. A MOTORCYCLE slides to a stop in front of them. The rider is ANDERS, a leather clad biker who looks half Viking. Anders pulls out a SILENCED SUB-MACHINE GUN and starts BLASTING. BULLETS SLAM into the Aston-Martin, cracking the bullet-proof glass, shattering headlights, and BLOWING OUT THE FRONT TIRES! Sterling jams it into reverse and backs around the corner on the RIMS. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - IDLING - NIGHT Sterling notices an ERROR MESSAGE now flashing on his computer screen: "TRANSMISSION ERROR: - DATA PARTIALLY SENT". Sterling looks around desperately. Somehow he's got to get this data out of here. Straight ahead is the RIVER. Chugging up the river: a PARTY BARGE. PARTYGOERS in formal attire dance to an orchestra. A SWIMMING POOL is in the middle of the deck for a perfect water landing. STERLING Time for a slow boat to China. He hits a BUTTON. EXT. COBBLESTONE STREET - NIGHT The rear license plate folds down, revealing a ROCKET ENGINE. Flames spew as he jams down the accelerator. Sterling is pushed back into his seat by the G-forces. SPARKS fly from the rims as he skips across the pavement at ever increasing speed. Anders FIRES with his gun, but Sterling is getting away! But then KIRILL steps around the corner. He's academic looking, a CHAIN SMOKING intellectual with COKE-BOTTLE GLASSES. He's also a highly proficient and cold-blooded SNIPER. Kirill puts his lit cigarette behind his ear and unslings a SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILE LAUNCHER from his shoulder. The Aston-Martin reaches the riverbank and goes AIRBORNE. It ROCKETS through the air towards the party barge. We see the car REFLECTED in Kirill's glasses as he AIMS. On a little SCREEN we see the missile launcher HOME IN on the HEAT SOURCE of the jet engine. The missile locks-in and FIRES... HEATSEEKER P.O.V. - we see a GREEN CAR with all its hot spots GLOWING RED. Camera ROARS towards the flying car. INT. ASTON-MARTIN - FLYING - NIGHT Sterling sees the missile streaking at him. STERLING Oh bloody hell! EXT. THE RIVER - NIGKT WHOOMPH! The Aston-Martin EXPLODES in mid-air. Partygoers shriek as the AXLE and FLAMING RIMS rain down on the deck. Kirill takes the cigarette from his ear, PUFFS IT. Finally, Sterling's flaming BOW TIE flutters down and lands on a LEAPING SALMON ICE-SCULPTURE above a tantalizing SEAFOOD BUFFET. CUT TO: EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. A STRAFING SHOT over the city. We make a sudden left turn and SPEED OUT OF TOWN. We shoot over to the BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS of VIRGINIA. In the middle of NOWHERE we dive towards a COMPLEX OF BLACK BUILDINGS. INT. UNDERGROUND HEADQUARTERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT Inside it's modern, cold and high tech. An elevator COUNTS DOWN to a deep basement level. The doors open and a TALL MAN man with a PROSTHETIC LEG strides down the empty hall. AGENT GIBBONS is African- American, a battle-scarred WARRIOR. Even with a limp he looks sturdy, confident, deadly. At the end of the hall is a METAL DOOR. INT. ULTIMATE INFORMATION ROOM - NIGHT Gibbons walks into the INFORMATION ROOM of the NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA). There are WORLD MAPS, SATELLITE IMAGES on COMPUTER SCREENS, TECHIES monitoring everything. If a nuclear war broke out, you could run the country from down here. Gibbons takes an elevator up. INT. SAM TANNICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT The office is expensive yet devoid of personality, reflecting the shadowy nature of it's owner. One wall is GLASS, looking down on the information room. SAM TANNICK, grizzled NSA chief, looks down at the activity below. SAM TANNICK Come. Gibbons enters, stands by the desk. GIBBONS Evening, Sam. Sam remains in shadow. SAM TANNICK What do you have? GIBBONS Not a whole helluva lot. His final transmission was mangled. About something or someone called "Ahab". Whatever it is, it cost him his life. SAM TANNICK He was the best there was. That makes three agents lost. GIBBONS They're ruthless and they have a lot of firepower. It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to deploy Silent Night. Then we're gonna have a catastrophe on our hands. SAM TANNICK Silent Night in the hands of a bunch of impertinent cowboys GIBBONS We're gonna have to step in, Sam. Those CIA boys couldn't find a clown in a field of cactus. Let me take care of it. SAM TANNICK How will you fix it? GIBBONS I'll go in with a team. But first I'm going to need some intel. I'll have to put someone inside, someone new, someone they won't see coming. One of their own. SAM TANNICK So you'll dredge the bottom again. You've done that before. The results were... uneven. GIBBONS You wanna find out about rats, ask a rat. I've had my people put together a talent pool. I downloaded it to your desktop. Gibbons snaps on the giant FLATSCREEN on Sam's desk. He starts cycling through PHOTO AFTER PHOTO of TOUGH LOOKING MEN. GIBBONS The usual prospects. Convicts, contract killers, murde... SAM TANNICK The scum of the Earth. GIBBONS But programmable. And expendable. SAM TANNICK I've seen enough. Turn it off. Gibbons clicks off the screen. SAM TANNICK They're degenerates. There's not a man in there that would give a damn if the Chinese took over. GIBBONS That's exactly why we need them. Sam sighs, stares out at the information room. SAM TANNICK Get these "scum", Mr. Gibbons, bring them in. Test them. Train them. Find your man. CUT TO: EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DOWNTOWN LA - NIGHT The huge ARCO TOWER rises up towards a moonlit sky. We see ACCOMPLICE #1 (TRAVIS PASTRANA) sneak up and take position behind a FOUNTAIN. ACCOMPLICE #2 (CAREY HART) sneaks across a roof and takes position overlooking the fountain position of #1. ACCOMPLICE #3 (DAVE MIRRA) takes up position in the second story window of a FLOPHOUSE HOTEL down the street. A MESSENGER (BOB BURNQUIST) skates up to the front of the skyscraper with a PACKAGE. He gets the attention of the SECURITY GUARD inside. The Security Guard unlocks the door and lets him in. Just then a VAN pulls up and ACCOMPLICES #4 (SHAUN PALMER) and #5 (MAT HOFFMAN) hop out. They open up the back and a BICYCLE is rolled out of the back by a MAN IN A HOODED JACKET. Jacket Man rolls the bike to the skyscraper and enters the lobby. INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY - NIGHT The Security Guard is checking his computer. SECURITY GUARD Crump... I'm sorry, no one by that name. K The Guard glances up as Jacket Man gets into an ELEVATOR. SECURITY GUARD Hey! You can't go up there! The Security Guard rushes to intercept him. The Messenger kicks his skateboard out, TRIPPING UP the Security Guard. The Messenger hauls ass out the door. The Security Guard pulls out his WALKIE-TALKIE. SECURITY GUARD We've got an intruder in the express elevator! INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT The button for "91 - ROOF ACCESS" is lit up. Jacket Man waits patiently. INT. 91ST FLOOR - NIGHT This fancy office is empty for the night. The STAIRWELL DOOR opens and a PLATOON of SECURITY GUARDS rushes in. They take Up position in front of the elevator doors armed with BILLY CLUBS and TASERS. DING! The elevator arrives and the door swings open. But there's NOBODY INSIDE. One Guard steps forward and suddenly a bicycle SWINGS DOWN from the ceiling, TAGGING HIM IN THE FACE. He falls back, TASERING another Guard. Jacket Man drops down onto his bike and pedals through the chaos before the Guards know what hit them. There's a CURVY PIECE OF ART in the room, some kind of modern art statue. Jacket Man rides up the artwork like a ramp and does a TABLETOP AERIAL over a DIVIDER. He hits the ground pedalling, the Guards hot after him. Jacket Man enters a HUGE OPEN ROOM with a FIELD OF CUBICLES in the middle. He bunny hops onto a desk and SLIDES TO A STOP. He tosses back his hood and we get a good look at him for the first time. He is XANDER CAGE. He's got a shaved head, bizarre TATTOOS all over his body and multiple PIERCINGS. He's lean and heavily cut, even dangerous looking. The Guards charge at him and he HOPS up onto the top of the CUBICLE WALL. This thing is maybe FOUR INCHES WIDE and FIVE FEET TALL. He pedals across the top of the cubicle wall, the Guards scrambling after him. Xander bunny hops over one guy's head onto the next set of cubicles and pedals hard. The Guards fall all over themselves trying to catch him. At the other end Xander catches air and lands on a CONFERENCE TABLE. He does a WHEELIE across it's length with Guards closing in. Xander springs up and does a TAIL WHIP, knocking them back with his rear wheel. He lands and pedals to the stairwell untouched. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander bursts out of the stairwell to the top of the TALLEST BUILDING IN DOWNTOWN LA. He climbs on a RAISED PLATFORM. From here he can drop down onto another level that is strewn with SATELLITE DISHES and MICROWAVE RELAYS. Guards rush onto the roof and try to corral him. Xander tears off his jacket, revealing a BACKPACK on his back and VIDEO CAMERA on his chest. He pulls out a ROAD FLARE and SPARKS IT. We see there are SOAKED RAGS tied to his SPOKES. He LIGHTS THEM with the flare. Then he TOSSES THE FLARE off the building. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The Accomplices see the flare drop. #'s 1, 2 & 3 pull CAMERAS OUT and start filming. EXT. THE ROOF - NIGHT Xander races around the roof like a trapped animal. He evades Security Guards, picking up speed. With Guards right behind, he drops off the TOP PLATFORM and lands on a massive SATELLITE DISH. Using the dish as a ramp, Xander LAUNCHES himself OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING. We're talking 90 some stories here. He spins through the air, his bike on fire. He's doing end over end backflips. One... Two... Three... Four... He's looping through space on his bike, a crazy man on a flaming bike against a backdrop of sleek skyscrapers and night lights. The stunt is covered by the various Accomplices and Xander's own chest camera, in SUPER 8 and DIGITAL VIDEO, from four different angles. Xander ditches the bike, kicking it away from him and plummets towards the ground. At the last moment he throws out a "bucket" and his PARACHUTE OPENS. EXT. STREET LEVEL - NIGHT The bicycle comes flying down and SMASHES into the pavement. It bounces a full TWO STORIES back up before coming to rest. Xander glides down and makes his landing. Accomplices #4 and #5 rush out to help him gather up his chute and jump in the van. SIRENS APPROACH as the van makes it's escape. As COP CARS screech up to the skyscraper, one of them RUNS OVER the smoking wreckage of the bike. SLAM TO: TITLE SEQUENCE - HARDCORE MUSIC plays as we see a flowing TAPESTRY OF FLORID TATTOOS. SILHOUETTED against this backdrop we see the OUTLINES of NUDE WOMEN riding BMX BIKES in a HALF- PIPE, BLADING ever obstacles, SKY SURFING and doing street SKATE TRICKS. It's a collision of outlandish imagery that tells you one thing: This ain't your daddy's spy movie. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT Xander, now on a MOTORCYCLE, zips through traffic. He's smiling, leaning it way over on the turns. He's got another BACKPACK on his back. EXT. LOFT DISTRICT - DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Xander drives his motorcycle into the garage of his building. INT. XANDER'S LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT A FREIGHT ELEVATOR rises up, bringing Xander and his motorcycle into the loft. There are EXTREME SPORTS ACTION POSTERS on the walls, MOTORCYCLE PARTS and BARBELLS on the floor, and everywhere there's EXTREME SPORTS EQUIPMENT of every description. XANDER Sky, you there? Start packin' cause we are out of here! There's a NEATLY FOLDED FLAG hanging in a slightly crooked FRAME on the wall. Xander straightens it as he goes by. He hears her in the sectioned off "bedroom" and heads back there. XANDER Did I promise you a fat vacation or what? Get ready to get down in paradise. He comes into the bedroom to find SKY, his long-suffering girlfriend. She's a wannabe artist type. She's got SUITCASES and BOXES scattered around and she's PACKING. XANDER Hey, you don't need all this just to go on vacation. Unless this ain't for going on vacation... SKY I'm through, Xander. XANDER I can see that. Why? SKY You run around with maniacs jumping motorcycles in the desert, you break 36 bones crashing wave runners and snowboarding off cliffs, all with no health insurance... It's insane, I can't take it anymore. XANDER I'm having fun, what's the problem? SKY You have all this talent, and you waste it. You won't take a single endorsement deal. Meanwhile those other guys have their own video games! But no, you've got too much "integrity" for that. XANDER I don't wanna go mersh, you know that. But hey, if this is about money... He opens up the backpack, revealing WADS OF CASH. XANDER I got an advance on the next bootleg. Let's get out of here, just you and me. We'll chill out in Bora Bora for a couple months. She sorts through the money. SKY French Polynesia? This wouldn't last us a week in a cheap hotel. Do you know how expensive it is down there? XANDER Alright, so I'll get more. SKY It's not about the money, X! You never plan for anything. I can't live like that anymore, I need some stability. XANDER Well if you're bailing, I guess I'd better give you your surprise now. He pulls off his shirt. Pierced through his nipple is a DIAMOND ENGAGEMENT RING. SKY What...? XANDER I was gonna wait till the islands, but... SKY You're serious? XANDER Of course I'm serious. I bought it, didn't I? SKY (shakes her head) This is so typical. I can't believe you. I've barely seen you for the last three weeks and now this? Are you out of your mind? XANDER I don't know. I thought this is what you wanted. You want stability, here it is. SKY You can't just propose to me out of nowhere. You think that's going to solve our problems? I'm sorry, X. It was a kick for a while, but it's over. You're just not going anywhere. XANDER You're not exactly "going anywhere" yourself. SKY You're wrong about that. I'm heading out that door right now. She heads towards the front door. Just then the door BLOWS IN. CRASH! -- the windows SMASH IN too. Then the LIGHTS GO OUT as STORMTROOPERS in black body armor rush in, weapons drawn. It's a blur of FLASHLIGHTS, PISTOLS and JACK BOOTS. It's scary as hell. A professional take-down. They slam Xander against the wall. Just like that it's quiet again. Sky hyperventilates, a gun in her face. XANDER She had nothing to do with the tower jump. She's nobody. I just met her last night. Tell them. (with meaning) I hardly know you. The Stormtrooper looks at Sky. She nods. The Stormtroopers take their guns off her. Sky grabs up here stuff. She looks back at Xander. SKY Keep the ring. It looks better on you anyways. She heads out. XANDER God, I hate cops. What's the charges this time? The Stormtrooper pulls out a DART GUN and SHOOTS Xander. He pulls a CHROME DART from his chest, examines it. XANDER (groggy) You... pussies... Xander slides to the floor. FADE TO BLACK. INT. PAN'S DINER - DAY A SIDEWAYS IMAGE: an out of focus COFFEE CREAMER. Xander wakes up with his head on the counter of a DINER. He shakes out the cobwebs. XANDER What the hell? WHIP PAN as a WAITRESS walks by. Xander blinks. XANDER Hey. Where am I? How did I get here? WAITRESS I don't know, you wandered in ten minutes ago and put your head down. I told you we were closing. Xander looks around, sees a TRUCKER chewing with his mouth open. A SALESMAN buried in his NEWSPAPER. Xander gets up. Where the hell is he? He takes a step towards the door. WAITRESS Want some coffee? XANDER Huh? The Waitress pours him coffee. QUICK PUSH TO: her hands are shaking. XANDER You alright? WAITRESS (smiles) Fine, just fine. Come on and sit. I'll get you something to eat. XANDER Yeah, sure. Xander sits. When he swigs his coffee, he notices something written on his napkin in shaky ballpoint: "S.O.S." What the hell? He looks at the Trucker. The Trucker's staring at the waitress. QUICK PUSH TO: The Trucker has a BULGE underneath his vest... then PUSH TO: The Salesman's eyes darting about suspiciously, newspaper pulled up to his nose. Something is going down... He hears a SLOWED DOWN VOICE and glances back at the Trucker, who's now fixing him with a DEATH STARE. Xander snaps from his reverie. XANDER What? TRUCKER I said, you got a problem, boy? XANDER Problem? No, no problem. You go right ahead. TRUCKER With what? I said, go right on ahead with what? XANDER Whatever, dude. The Trucker and the Salesman look at each other. Suddenly they jump up. The Trucker pulls a PISTOL from his vest, the Salesman brandishes the SHOTGUN he had behind the paper. The Waitress cringes. TRUCKER Alright, nobody make a move! (to Xander) Shoulda walked away when you had the chance, dumb shit. SALESMAN Forget him, Buck, let's just do it. TRUCKER Shut up! (in Xander's face) You keep still or I'm gonna make damn sure you stop breathing today. Got that? Xander stays strangely calm, his senses now fully focused. XANDER (shrugs) Alright, "Buck", whatever you say. The Waitress let's out a whimper. TRUCKER Keep your gotdam mouth shut and empty that register! Couldn't just let him leave, could ya! You know what I'm gonna do to ya for that? Huh? Do ya?! She goes to open the register and knocks a tray of glasses on the floor. Xander springs into action. He CHOPS down on the Trucker's arm and ELBOWS him in the face. Xander twists the gun out of his hand and kicks his legs out from under him. The Salesman pumps on his shotgun, but it seems to be jammed. XANDER Better shoot me quick. The Salesman fights with his gun but can't get it to work. Xander advances on him. XANDER Too late! He unleashes with a series of rapid front kicks to the jaw. The Salesman goes crashing through the kitchen doors. Xander turns to the terrified Waitress. XANDER Alright, bitch, what's going on? She stares at him, unable to speak. He raises the gun. XANDER Talk! What's the game? Who are you people? The front door bell JINGLES. A guy with an impeccably tailored suit and a cane hobbles in. It's Gibbons. There a problem, Mr. Cage? XANDER Who the hell are you? GIBBONS The name's Gibbons. You were saying? XANDER What is this place? GIBBONS Looks like a diner. XANDER Diner, huh? Let me tell you what the problem is. I wake up drugged to find what? You've got a "salesman" over here reading a three week old newspaper. He's pulling a 211 with a "trucker", who happens to be packing a cop issue H&K 9mm. I get tipped that something is going down when she passes me a note. How's that for twisted logic? How did she know there was trouble unless they pulled the guns before I "walked" in? And if that's true, why'd they stop and wait until I woke up to gaffle the money? Then I notice how beefy they both are. Hell, even the waitress is cut. All three of them look like they went through the same training program. Ergo they ain't strangers and this isn't what it seems. That's how I knew yo-yo wouldn't get a round off even if I gave him all day. Why? He aims at the Waitress and FIRES! She's startled, but unhurt. XANDER Cuz there's nothing but blanks in these guns. And no offense, but their performances were terrible. Xander tosses the gun on the counter. Gibbons gives a sly smile. GIBBONS Not bad. Not bad at all. Have a seat. Gibbons sits in a booth. Xander sits across from him. In the background the Waitress helps the Trucker and Salesman up. GIBBONS Most guys we ran through this either took off or helped them rob the place. I expected you to do the same. XANDER That shows me already that you don't have a clue. What's it to you, anyway? GIBBONS Whether you thought this was for real or not, you jumped in and helped the waitress on instinct. That tells me something about your character. XANDER Good for you. Now why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want. You didn't go through all this for my benefit. GIBBONS It's your lucky day. You just might get the chance to pay back our wonderful country for all the freedom you enjoy. XANDER A Fed, I shoulda known. Who else would have this kind of budget? Now you're gonna hit me with the sales pitch. GIBBONS Alright, Cage, you've got me. This is one of those moments. "Many are called, few are chosen", that kind of thing. Your government needs you. Are you up for the challenge? XANDER ..If you're trolling around for narcs, man, have you got the wrong guy. GIBBONS Why is that? XANDER Look at me, dude, do I look like a fan of law enforcement? Forget the tests, you shoulda just asked me. I woulda saved you a lot of trouble. GIBBONS Oh I don't know, I think the tests work pretty well. Sometimes they give me answers you wouldn't admit to in a million years. XANDER Are we done now? You've got nothing on me. So if you ain't booking me, I'm walking. GIBBONS You've got this wrong. You're not under arrest, you've been abducted. And until I say different, you belong to me. XANDER Is that a fact? GIBBONS Sure as gravity. I've had a feeling about you from the start, Cage. It's nausea. XANDER (smiles) You know what I hate? Any scumbag with a clean shirt and a bad haircut can get one of those tin stars and suddenly they think they're God. GIBBONS (smiles) You know what I hate? It's always the assholes that pass the tests. There's a POP and Xander clutches his stomach. Gibbons tosses his DART GUN onto the table. Xander blinks at him. He pulls another CHROME DART from his gut and examines it. XANDER You bastards love to see me sleep. WHACK! He goes face down on the table. CUT TO BLACK: CLOSE ON - XANDER'S FACE He comes to, blinking in low RED LIGHT. He's shocked to find that he's... INT. AIRPLANE - TWILIGHT Xander's on the floor of a military aircraft. TWO OTHER TOUGH GUYS are waking up next to him. One's a greaser named VIRG, the other is T.J., ex-Navy. Xander notices as they each pull out CHROME DARTS. They sit up, looking at each other. Xander chuckles. VIRG What's so damn funny? XANDER Been to any good diners lately? The three laugh, realizing they're all in the same boat. T.J. We must be the final "candidates". They quiet down as they notice for the first time, THEY ARE NOT ALONE. Sitting silently on benches facing them are SOLDIERS DRESSED IN BLACK. They wear BLACK MASKS over their faces. They are a nasty looking BLACK OPS TEAM. XANDER Nobody told me this was a costume party. The Black Ops Team, just stares. T.J. I've worked with guys like this before. Black Ops. Serious government spooks. Virg notices something STRAPPED TO HIS BODY. They all have them. VIRG Heads up, man. What's this thing on my back? XANDER A parachute. This does not argue well. Then the red light switches to GREEN. One of the Soldiers opens the JUMP DOOR. The rest of the team advances on Xander, Virg and T.J. VIRG This is bullshit! Hey! They drag Virg to the door and THROW HIM OUT. T.J. goes next, kicking and fighting. Then they turn on Xander. XANDER I get the picture. Xander jumps out on his own. We see him tumbling away from the airplane. Far below his chute BLOSSOMS OPEN. EXT. A FIELD - TWILIGHT We see three chutes coming down. The first two HIT HARD. We ROCKET IN on the last chute as Xander lands like a pro. The other guys run up to him. Then they hear SHOUTING in SPANISH. VIRG Jee-zus, man! What the hell now? Another damn test? T.J. We should head for those trees. XANDER Don't look at me,

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How many times the word 'middle' appears in the text?