And meantime the anti-social instinct in Shillabeer, filtering by secret ways through the old man's brain, took another turn and led him upon a road none had foreseen. Vaguely at first he glimpsed it, and on his declining years a dark short cut to peace suddenly yawned.
The first glimpse of this haunting evil that now crept upon the old prize-fighter was revealed to a woman; and on the occasion Mr. Shillabeer not only shocked her with a thought, but astonished her by a confession.
First, however, there came dark words between them, as happens at the meeting of unhappy and restless spirits. Then Margaret Bowden, for it was she, learnt the man's simple secret. It argued some unexpected cunning in him that he could have pursued his purpose and also hidden it; and the circumstance taken in conjunction with the present theme, made her fear for his sanity. Not the subject so much startled her as its existence in this particular man's brain. She listened, was surprised to find how reasonable his arguments seemed, yet strove with all her wits to refute them.
One day on his way back from Princetown Mr. Shillabeer noted the smoke rising from 'Meavy Cot' under Black Tor. He had never seen David Bowden's home and the opportunity was a good one. He left the main road, therefore, and soon reached the house. David happened to be away, and Rhoda was also out. But Margaret made the visitor welcome, hastened the hour of tea-drinking, and insisted that he should stop for it.
"As nice a house as one might wish for," he said. "And I'd like to say that I'm among them that wish all joy and good fortune and good luck to your husband. He's one of the fortunate ones, and well he deserves to be. I suppose it won't be long now afore he takes up the new work?"
"We go after the winter," she answered.
"A position of great trust. 'Tis wonderful to me to think that when I first come to Sheepstor he was a little fellow in a lamb's-wool coat, as wanted his mother's hand to help him over the rough ground. And I've lived to see him rise into manhood, and show his valour in the ring, and take a wife, and now stand up among leading people and rise to be the right hand of one of the richest personages in the county."
"Very wonderful, as you say. Yet not wonderful neither. 'Tis David that is wonderful--not the things as happen to him. Given such a man, he was bound to get up top."
"True," declared Mr. Shillabeer, passing his cup to be refilled; "the very same thought often came in my mind when my wife was alive. She was the wonder, and I was sure to be lucky and fortunate when I married her. But death's stronger than the most wonderful life that ever was lived. She went and took her luck with her; and her gone, I sank again to be a common man. And when you feel puffed up, Margaret, always remember that death lies behind every hedge and makes ready the gun trigger for this man, the flood for that; the weak lynch-pin here, and the mad dog there. Another thing as you may have noticed; 'tis always the usefulest be picked off. Heaven's terrible jealous of a real valuable man. It ain't got no need of the rogues and wastrels no more than we have; but if a male or female be doing for the Lord with both hands, so often as not the Lord says, 'That's the very man or woman I want for such and such a bit of real high work.' And they'm cut down like the grass of the field."
"Yes," she said. "The Lord harvests His own way, Mr. Shillabeer; and because a beautiful, useful life goes, ban't for us to mourn, but to say 'twas needed for higher things."