“Merciful, of course, except when they’re arter mischief; but them that’s noxious, and hurtful, and dangerous, we’re free to kill; and where’s the beast so dangerous as a real bad man or woman? God forbid I should do wrong. I’m an old woman, nigh-hand the grave, and murder’s murder!—I do suppose and allow that’s it. Thou shalt do no murder. No more I would—no, not if an angel said do it; no, I wouldn’t for untold goold. But I often wondered why if ye may, wi’ a good conscience, knock a snake on the head wi’ a stone, and chop a shovel down smack on a toad, ye should stay your hand, and let a devil incarnate go her murdering way through the world, blastin’ that one wi’ lies, robbin’ this one wi’ craft, and murderin’ t’other, if it make for her interest, wi’ poison or perjury. Lord help my poor head, and forgive me if it be sin, but I can find neither right nor reason in that, nor see, nohow, why she shouldn’t be killed off-hand like a rat or a sarpent.”
At this point the bell rang loud and sudden, and Mrs. Tarnley bounced and blessed herself. There was no great difficulty in settling from what quarter the summons came, for, except the hall door bell, which was a deep-toned sonorous one, there was but one in the house in ringing order, and that was of the bedroom where her young mistress lay.
“Well, here’s a go! Who’d a’ thought o’ her awake at these hours, and out o’ her bed, and a pluckin’ at her bell. I doubt it is her. The like was never before. ’Tis enough to frighten a body. The Lord help us.”
Mrs. Tarnley stood straight as a grenadier on drill with her back to the fire, the poker with which, during her homily, she had been raking the bars, still in her hand.
“This night ’ll be the death o’ me. Everything’s gone cross and contrary. Here’s that young silly lass awake and out o’ her bed, that never had an eye open at these hours, since she came to the Grange, before; and there’s that other one in the state-room, not that far from her, as wide awake as she; and here’s Master Charles a comin’, mayhap, this minute wi’ his drummin’ and bellin’ at the hall door. ’Tis enough to make a body swear; ’t has given me the narves and the tremblins, and I don’t know how it’s to end.”
And Mrs. Tarnley unconsciously shouldered her poker as if awaiting the assault of burglars, and vaguely thought if Charles arrived as she had described, what power on earth could keep the peace?
Again the bell rang.
“Well, there’s patience for ye!”
She halted at the kitchen door, with the candle in her hand, listening, with a stern, frightened face. She was thinking whether Alice might not have been frightened by some fantastic terror in her room.
“She has that old fat fool, Dulcibella Crane, only a room off—why don’t she call up her?”