Josey was still waving his hat to the dark embrasure through which
Maryllia's white figure had vanished.
"Ain't she a beauty? Ain't she jest a real Vancourt pride?" he demanded excitedly; "Lord! We won't know ourselves in a month or two! You marrk my wurrds, boys! See if what I say don't come true! Leach may cheat the gallus, but he won't cheat them blue eyes, let him try ever so! They'll be the Lord's arrows in his skin! You see if they ain't!"
Bainton here gave a signal to Spruce, and they hoisted up the improvised carrying-chair between them, Primmins steadying it behind.
"There ain't goin' to be no layin' low of the Five Sisters!" Josey continued with increasing shrillness and excitement as he was borne out into the moonlit courtyard; "And there ain't goin' to be no devil's work round the old Manor no more! Welcome 'ome to Squire's gel! Welcome 'ome!"
"Shut up, Josey!" said Bainton, though kindly enough—"You'll soon part with all the breath you've got in yer body if ye makes a screech owl of yerself like that in the night air! You's done enough for once in a way,—keep easy an' quiet while we carries ye back to the village—ye weighs a hundred pound 'eavier if ye're noisy,—ye do reely now!"
Thus adjured, Josey subsided into silence, and what with the joy he felt at the success of his embassy, the warm still air, and the soothing influence of the moonlight, he soon fell fast asleep, and did not wake till he arrived at his own home in safety. Having deposited him there, and seen to his comfort, Spruce and Bainton left him to his night's rest, and held a brief colloquy outside his cottage door.
"I'm awful 'feard goin' to-morrow marnin' up to the Five Sisters with ne'er a tool and ne'er a man,—Leach 'ull be that wild!" said Spruce, his rubicund face paling at the very thought—"If I could but 'ave 'ad written instructions, like!"
"Why didn't you ask for 'em while you 'ad the chance?" demanded Bainton testily; "It's too late now to bother your mind with what ye might ha' done if ye'd had a bit of gumption. And it's too late for me to be goin' and speakin' to Passon Walden. There's nothin' to be done now till the marnin'!"
"Nothin' to be done till the marnin'," echoed Spruce with a sigh, catching these words by happy chance; "All the same, she's a fine young lady, and 'er orders is to be obeyed. She ain't a bit like what I expected her to be."
"Nor she ain't what I bet she would be," said Bainton, heedless as to whether his companion heard him or not; "I've lost 'arf a crown to my old 'ooman, for I sez, sez I, 'She's bound to be a 'igh an' mighty stuck-up sort o' miss wot won't never 'ave a wurrd for the likes of we,' an' my old 'ooman she sez to me: 'Go 'long with ye for a great silly gawk as ye are; I'll bet ye 'arf a crown she won't be!' So I sez 'Done,'—an' done it is. For she's just as sweet as clover in the spring, an' seems as gentle as a lamb,—though I reckon she's got a will of 'er own and a mind to do what she likes, when and 'ow she likes. I'll 'ave a fine bit o' talk with Passon 'bout her as soon as iver he gives me the chance."