Jesse Cliffe | Page 8

natural way,
nothing could exceed the bitterness of the aversion which gradually
grew up in his mind towards the poor lad.
That Venus liked him, and Phoebe liked him, added strength to the
feeling. He would have been ashamed to confess himself jealous of

their good-will towards such an object, and yet most certainly jealous
he was. He did not drive him from his shelter in the Moors, because he
had unwarily passed his word--his word, which, with yeomanly pride,
John Cobham held sacred as his bond--to let him remain until he
committed some offence; but, for this offence, both he and Daniel
watched and waited with an impatience and irritability which
contrasted strangely with the honourable self-restraint that withheld
him from direct abuse of his power.
For a long time, Daniel and his master waited in vain. Jesse, whom they
had entertained some vague hope of chasing away by angry looks and
scornful words, had been so much accustomed all his life long to taunts
and contumely, that it was a great while before he became conscious of
their unkindness; and when at last it forced itself upon his attention, he
shrank away crouching and cowering, and buried himself in the closest
recesses of the coppice, until the footstep of the reviler had passed by.
One look at his sweet little friend repaid him twenty-fold; and although
farmer Cobham had really worked himself into believing that there was
danger in allowing the beautiful child to approach poor Jesse, and had
therefore on different pretexts forbidden her visits to the Moors, she did
yet happen in her various walks to encounter that devoted adherent
oftener than would be believed possible by any one who has not been
led to remark, how often in this best of all possible worlds, an earnest
and innocent wish does as it were fulfil itself.
At last, however, a wish of a very different nature came to pass. Daniel
Thorpe detected Jesse in an actual offence against that fertile source of
crime and misery, the game laws.
Thus the affair happened.
During many weeks, the neighbourhood had been infested by a gang of
bold, sturdy pilferers, roving vagabonds, begging by day, stealing and
poaching by night--who had committed such extensive devastations
amongst the poultry and linen of the village, as well as the game in the
preserves, that the whole population was upon the alert; and the lonely
coppices of the Moors rendering that spot one peculiarly likely to
attract the attention of the gang, old Daniel, reinforced by a stout lad as

a sort of extra-guard, kept a most jealous watch over his territory.
Perambulating the outside of the wood one evening at sunset, he heard
the cry of a hare; and climbing over the fence, had the unexpected
pleasure of seeing our friend Jesse in the act of taking a leveret still
alive from the wire. "So, so, master Jesse! thou be'st turned poacher,
be'st thou?" ejaculated Daniel, with a malicious chuckle, seizing, at one
fell grip, the hare and the lad.
"Miss Phoebe!" ejaculated Jesse, submitting himself to the old man's
grasp, but struggling to retain the leveret; "Miss Phoebe!"
"Miss Phoebe, indeed!" responded Daniel; "she saved thee once, my
lad, but thy time's come now. What do'st thee want of the leveret, mon?
Do'st not thee know that 'tis part of the evidence against thee? Well, he
may carry that whilst I carry the snare. Master'll be main glad to see un.
He always suspected the chap. And for the matter of that so did I. Miss
Phoebe, indeed! Come along, my mon, I warrant thou hast seen thy last
o' Miss Phoebe. Come on wi' thee."
And Jesse was hurried as fast as Daniel's legs would carry him to the
presence of Farmer Cobham.
On entering the house (not the old deserted homestead of the Moors,
but the comfortable dwelling-house at Aberleigh) Jesse delivered the
panting, trembling leveret to the first person he met, with no other
explanation than might be comprised in the words, "Miss Phoebe!" and
followed Daniel quietly to the hall.
"Poaching, was he? Taking the hare from the wire? And you saw him?
You can swear to the fact?" quoth John Cobham, rubbing his hands
with unusual glee. "Well, now we shall be fairly rid of the fellow! Take
him to the Chequers for the night, Daniel, and get another man beside
yourself to sit up with him. It's too late to disturb Sir Robert this
evening. To-morrow morning we'll take him to the Hall. See that the
constable's ready by nine o'clock. No doubt but Sir Robert will commit
him to the county bridewell."

"Oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed Phoebe, darting into the room with the
leveret in her arms, and catching the last words. "Oh, grandpapa! poor
Jesse!"
"Miss