Hollowdell Grange: Holiday Hours in a Country Home

by George Manville Fenn

But old Sam was wrong, as was, sad to state, very soon proved; for the next day being very wet, the walnuts were not thrashed, the weather necessitating the nut harvest being deferred for another day.

Upon the following morning, while Mr and Mrs Inglis and their sons were sitting at breakfast, Mr Inglis knit his brows, for old Sam, without studying the lesson upon decorum that his master had given him but a few days before, burst into the breakfast-room again, but this time through the French window opening on the lawn.

“Sam,” said Mr Inglis, sternly, “what can—” but he interrupted himself upon seeing that the old man was all in a tremble, and that the perspiration stood in great drops upon his forehead. “Why, what is it, man, speak out!”

But Sam could not speak out, for he was too excited, and though his lips moved no sound came from them. However, he caught his master by the sleeve, drawing him towards the window, and Mr Inglis followed him. Harry and Philip rose from their seats, but Mr Inglis motioned Mrs Inglis and them to keep their places, and closed the window as he went out. Sam led the way down the garden towards the fields, and said something to his master which made him quicken his steps until they reached the great walnut-tree, where, beneath one of the largest boughs, lay the body of a man, with his head turned in a very unnatural position, and one of his arms bent under him.

Upon first looking at the figure, Mr Inglis thought the man was dead; but on touching him he gave a slight groan upon which Sam was despatched for assistance, while his master placed the sufferer in an easier position, during which he moved slightly and groaned again, but remained perfectly insensible. While waiting for the return of Sam, Mr Inglis saw but too plainly the cause of the accident: scattered about upon the grass were walnuts, twigs, and leaves; while tightly clutched in the man’s hand was a red cotton handkerchief nearly full of the fruit; and his trousers and jacket pockets were filled as full as they could hold. There was no doubt now as to who was the culprit, but Mr Inglis felt a sinking at the heart as he thought of the severe punishment that had fallen upon the offender, who proved to be none other than the man home with a ticket of leave, but who had not been cured of his dishonest propensity.

Sam soon returned with two or three farming men, who, under the direction of Mr Inglis, lifted a gate off its hinges, and laid the man as gently as they could upon it, and then, one at each corner, bore him out through the open gateway into the lane, and so to the village inn, a boy in the meantime being despatched for the doctor. Mr Inglis would have taken the poor fellow to the Grange, but for the reflection that it would only be a great shock to Mrs Inglis, and the ends of humanity would not in any way be served, for assistance could not be obtained a bit sooner, but rather the reverse.

With some difficulty the man was carried into a room at the inn, and it being found impossible to carry him upstairs, a mattress was brought down, and he was laid upon it. He groaned slightly upon being moved, tenderly as the men handled him, but remained quite still upon the mattress upon being laid there.

He was a fine-looking, sun-browned young fellow, but his face was now disfigured by the fall and contracted with pain; and Mr Inglis could not but feel sad to look upon so pitiable a sight—a fine, hearty young man stricken with death through the act of petty theft of which he had been guilty.

At length the doctor arrived—the same gentleman who had attended poor Fred in his narrow escape from drowning. He made his examination, and found that one arm was broken, and the neck so injured that he shook his head, and whispered to Mr Inglis that the bones were dislocated; and in reply to the inquiry whether there was any hope, he shook his head again. He then did all that was possible in such an extreme case, and sat down in company with Mr Inglis to see if the poor fellow would revive; but they waited in vain, for after about an hour had passed, during which the doctor had watched every change, he suddenly rose up from leaning over the injured man, laid his hand upon Mr Inglis’s shoulder, and walked out of the room with him, whispering some words that caused Mr Inglis to sigh, and then to slip a sovereign into the hands of the poor old woman, the mother, who was sobbing upon the settle in the common room of the inn.

The death caused a great stir in the village, and many people said that it was a judgment upon the man for his sin; but Mr Inglis was deeply grieved, and said that he would rather that all the fruit in the garden had been stolen than such an awful punishment should have befallen the man.