VC -- A Chronicle of Castle Barfield and of the Crimea

VC -- A Chronicle of Castle
Barfield and of
by David
Christie Murray

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Title: VC -- A Chronicle of Castle Barfield and of the Crimea
Author: David Christie Murray
Release Date: August 8, 2007 [EBook #22275]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Produced by David Widger

VC -- A CHRONICLE OF CASTLE BARFIELD AND OF THE
CRIMEA
By David Christie Murray
CHATTO & WINDUS
1904
LONDON

V. C.
CHAPTER I
The people of Castle Barfield boast that the middle of their High Street
is on a level with the cross of St. Paul's Cathedral. The whole
country-side is open, and affords a welcome to storm from whatever
corner of the compass it may blow. You have to get right away into the
Peak district before you can find anything like an eminence of
distinction, though the mild slopes of Quarry-moor and Cline, a few
miles to the westward, save the prospect from complete monotony. East,
and a trifle to the north, rises Beacon Hargate, on the top whereof one
of the innumerable bonfires which warned England of the coming of
the Armada hung out its flaming banner in the sight of three counties.
Topping that high tableland, Beacon Hargate is familiar with wild
weather at the proper seasons, and by dint of use takes very little notice
of it. But on the evening on which this story has its proper beginning
such a storm raged round and over the old Beacon as no man or woman
of that region could even remember. It began in the grey of the dawn in
wild and fitful gusts, driving thick squalls of rain before them, but long
before midday it lost its first waywardness and settled down to business
with a steady purpose. It grew in force from hour to hour, and almost
from minute to minute, until all living things sought shelter. The
disconsolate cattle huddled under the sparse hedgerows, looking down
their broad, dripping noses in a meek abandonment to fate. The sheep

packed themselves in any hollowed corner they could find, and hugged
their soaked fleeces close to each other in uncomplaining patience. The
trees fought the blast with impotent arms, and shrieked and groaned
their protest against it Flying boughs, like great grotesque birds, went
hurtling through the air.
As the brief March day fell towards its close, the storm seemed
suddenly to double in fury. Oak and elm went down before it bodily,
torn from the stout anchorage of many years, and before the wind had
raged itself to rest many scores of patriarchal landmarks were laid low.
Roar of tormented woods, howl of wind, crash on crash of breaking
boughs or falling trees, blended to one tune, and a plunging rain came
down in ropes rather than in lines, driven at a fierce angle.
Night fell, and the pitiless tempest raged on, but with the coming of the
darkness one sign of cheer displayed itself. From the windows of the
plain old grey-stone mansion on the eastern side of the Beacon Hill
lights began to glow, first in this chamber and then in that, until the
whole squat edifice seemed charged with warmth and comfort. The
tempest poured its full strength against the grey-stone house. It shook
the windows with its frantic hand, it shrieked and howled and roared
amongst the chimney tops and gables, it strained the hasps of the
staunch oaken doors, and the old house faced it with a broadening
smile, and shone the brighter by contrast as the night grew blacker.
In the whole roaring region there was but one man to be found abroad,
and he was making for the grey-stone house. He was a portly person
with a prosperous-looking development about the neighbourhood of the
lower waistcoat, and he was sorely tried, though he was as yet on the
sheltered side of the hill. His heavy black broadcloth was soaked
through and through, and weighed him down. The icy wet had chilled
him, and he breathed hard at every laboured step. One stiff slope of
some fifty yards had still to be surmounted before he reached the
hill-top. Twenty yards further lay the house, with all windows beaming.
It was as yet invisible to him, but in his mind's eye he could see it, and
the thought of it gave him courage. He turned his back