“Then,” said Bess, “will you look to it that a grave is prepared this night, and when you have seen to that, will you speak with me on a matter near my heart?”
“Truly I will, mistress,” replied Hodge. “Trouble yourself no more about these sad things. We have here laborers enough and more than enough to do all that Mr. Richard, poor lad, requires of any one now. So leave it to me, and go you to my house, where my dame will take care of you.”
“Before I go into your house,” said Bess, with a wan smile, “I will tell you who it is you entertain so freely and kindly. I am Bess Lukens,—a plain woman, one of yourselves, though fortune has been better to me than to most. And I was befriended both by Mr. Roger Egremont and Mr. Richard Egremont, and that is why I brought Mr. Richard’s poor body here.”
Befriended! Ah, Bess, Roger and Richard told a different tale about that.
“Very well, Mistress Lukens. Go into my cottage while I see to the digging of the grave,” replied Hodge.
Bess went into the cottage, where Dame Hodge received her civilly, and offered her a glass of cider, which she drank eagerly.
“For I am mortal tired,” she said, her pale looks confirming her; “and I have had a heart like lead in my bosom these five days and nights.”
In a few minutes Hodge reappeared. “It’s all planned, mistress,” he said. Although Bess had declared herself to be of the same class as the village people, all of them, including Hodge, saw there was a gulf between plain people like her and plain people like them. “The grave will be ready and the burial can take place at ten of the clock. And will you tell us about Mr. Richard?”
“Indeed I will,” replied Bess, “but something else must come before that. Mr. Richard died forgiving his enemies, but I a’n’t ready to forgive any of mine until I’ve dealt ’em one good blow anyhow. Now, as you know, the bastard yonder swore Mr. Richard’s life away, and I want him to be brought to look on his work. Will you help me to do this?”
“Ay, that I will,” fiercely responded Hodge. “We know ’twas that villain who gave Mr. Richard up, and there’s more than one man in this parish who would give a month’s wages to pay off Sir Hugo Egremont, as he calls himself—the rascal!”