‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Jenny, when this gush of sorrow was over, ‘take a bit o’ heart. Things is rarely as bad as they seem; an’ there’s help at hand always if we on’y know where to look for it.’
There was more meaning, to Julia’s thinking, in the tone in which this commonplace condolence was delivered than in the words themselves. Mrs. Rusker’s manner was big with mystery.
‘Now, my darlin’, I know you ‘m a brave gal, and can act accordin’ when there’s rayson for it. I’ve got a plan as ‘ll save you yet, if on’y you’ve got the courage.’
Julia’s clasped hands and eager look encouraged her to proceed.
‘My dear, you remember Romeo and Juliet? You remember how Juliet got the sleepin’ draught an’ took it? ‘Julia’s look was one of wonder, pure and simple, now. ‘That’s my plan, my dear, an’ the Dudley Divil can do it for us, if on’y you’ll ha’ the courage to tek it. Not as I mean as you need be buried afore Dick comes to you. We shouldn’t go as far as that. But I’ll get the stuff, an’ it’ll send you to sleep, an’ they’ll think as you’re dead, an’ then I’ll tell ‘em how you an’ Dick loved each other so’s you couldn’t bear to part wi’ him, an’ the fear of it’s killed you. That’ll soften their hard hearts, my dear. Old Reddy knows all about it—that’s why he’s sendin’ Dick away to London an’ I’ll get him fetched back to see the last o’ you, an’ I’ll mek your father an’ his father shaake hands, an’ then you’ll come to, an’ after that what can they do but marry you to Dick, an’ forget all that rubbidge about the brook, an’ live in peace together, as decent folk should do.’
Julia’s reception of this brilliant scheme, which Mrs. Rusker developed with a volubility which left no opportunity for detailed objection, was to fall back in her chair and begin to cry anew at the sheer hopeless absurdity of it.
‘What’s the matter wi’ the wench?’ demanded Mrs. Rusker, almost sternly. ‘Come, come,’ she continued, her brief anger fading at the sight of Julia’s distress, ‘have a bit o’ sperrit. Now, will you try it? Spake the word, an’ I’ll goo to the Divil this minute.’
This wholesale self-abandonment in the cause of love produced no effect on Julia, except to frighten her. Mrs. Rusker argued and reasoned, but finding her fears too obdurate to be moved by any such means, left the house in dudgeon, whereat poor Julia only cried the more. But Mrs. Rusker’s confidence in her plan was unshaken, and her persistency unchecked. She would save the silly girl against her will, since it must be so, and half an hour after she had crossed the Mountain threshold she was in her trap, en route for the dwelling of the wizard.
She found that celebrity alone, and opened fire on him at once.
‘Ruffis, I want thy help, an’ I’m willin’ to pay fur it.’ The necromancer’s fishy eye brightened. Things were going poorly with him, the rising generation followed newer lights unevident in his earlier days, and his visitors were mostly of Mrs. Rusker’s age, and were getting fewer day by day.