The Dead Alive | Page 9

and me."
Silas turned about, and addressed himself ironically to the three laborers.
"You hear him, boys? He can't tell the truth, try him as you may. He wasn't making love to Naomi in the garden last night--oh dear, no! He has had one wife already; and he knows better than to take the yoke on his shoulders for the second time!"
Greatly to my surprise, John Jago met this clumsy jesting with a formal and serious reply.
"You are quite right, sir," he said. "I have no intention of marrying for the second time. What I was saying to Miss Naomi doesn't matter to you. It was not at all what you choose to suppose; it was something of quite another kind, with which you have no concern. Be pleased to understand once for all, Mr. Silas, that not so much as the thought of making love to the young lady has ever entered my head. I respect her; I admire her good qualities; but if she was the only woman left in the world, and if I was a much younger man than I am, I should never think of asking her to be my wife." He burst out suddenly into a harsh, uneasy laugh. "No, no! not my style, Mr. Silas--not my style!"
Something in those words, or in his manner of speaking them, appeared to exasperate Silas. He dropped his clumsy irony, and addressed himself directly to John Jago in a tone of savage contempt.
"Not your style?" he repeated. "Upon my soul, that's a cool way of putting it, for a man in your place! What do you mean by calling her 'not your style?' You impudent beggar! Naomi Colebrook is meat for your master!"
John Jago's temper began to give way at last. He approached defiantly a step or two nearer to Silas Meadowcroft.
"Who is my master?" he asked.
"Ambrose will show you, if you go to him," answered the other. "Naomi is his sweetheart, not mine. Keep out of his way, if you want to keep a whole skin on your bones."
John Jago cast one of his sardonic side-looks at the farmer's wounded left hand. "Don't forget your own skin, Mr. Silas, when you threaten mine! I have set my mark on you once, sir. Let me by on my business, or I may mark you for a second time."
Silas lifted his beechen stick. The laborers, roused to some rude sense of the serious turn which the quarrel was taking, got between the two men, and parted them. I had been hurriedly dressing myself while the altercation was proceeding; and I now ran downstairs to try what my influence could do toward keeping the peace at Morwick Farm.
The war of angry words was still going on when I joined the men outside.
"Be off with you on your business, you cowardly hound!" I heard Silas say. "Be off with you to the town! and take care you don't meet Ambrose on the way!"
"Take you care you don't feel my knife again before I go!" cried the other man.
Silas made a desperate effort to break away from the laborers who were holding him.
"Last time you only felt my fist!" he shouted "Next time you shall feel this!"
He lifted the stick as he spoke. I stepped up and snatched it out of his hand.
"Mr. Silas," I said, "I am an invalid, and I am going out for a walk. Your stick will be useful to me. I beg leave to borrow it."
The laborers burst out laughing. Silas fixed his eyes on me with a stare of angry surprise. John Jago, immediately recovering his self-possession, took off his hat, and made me a deferential bow.
"I had no idea, Mr. Lefrank, that we were disturbing you," he said. "I am very much ashamed of myself, sir. I beg to apologize."
"I accept your apology, Mr. Jago," I answered, "on the understanding that you, as the older man, will set the example of forbearance if your temper is tried on any future occasion as it has been tried today. And I have further to request," I added, addressing myself to Silas, "that you will do me a favor, as your father's guest. The next time your good spirits lead you into making jokes at Mr. Jago's expense, don't carry them quite so far. I am sure you meant no harm, Mr. Silas. Will you gratify me by saying so yourself? I want to see you and Mr. Jago shake hands."
John Jago instantly held out his hand, with an assumption of good feeling which was a little overacted, to my thinking. Silas Meadowcroft made no advance of the same friendly sort on his side.
"Let him go about his business," said Silas. "I won't waste any more words on him, Mr. Lefrank, to please you. But (saving your presence) I'm