“‘Adam, Adam! what have you done!’ commenced his father, approaching his son with an astounded air.
“‘Nay, never mind me, father,’ muttered his son vehemently, standing with arms akimbo, and watching Mr Oxley with eyes flashing fury. ‘There, Master Oxley; show never here again that wizened face of yours, or worse may happen. Away! Back to the Castle, and tell him that sent you here what you have received! Off! out into the road,’ he added, raising his voice, and moving furiously towards Mr Oxley, who precipitately quitted the garden, ‘or I’ll teach you to speak of the workhouse again! See that the dogs lick not——’
“‘Adam! I charge you hold your peace!’ said the old man, loudly and authoritatively, and advancing towards Mr Oxley, who, however, having, after muttering a few words to himself, and glancing furiously at young Ayliffe, hastily mounted his horse, which had been standing fastened at the gate, had already galloped out of hearing; and about that time in the ensuing day had contrived, during an interview on business with the Earl, to intimate, as if casually only, that the Ayliffes, who owned the roadside cottage, had received the liberal overtures made by Mr Oxley on his lordship’s behalf, with expressions of coarse disrespect, and even malignant hostility. Not a syllable breathed Mr Oxley of the treatment which he had received at the hands of young Ayliffe; nor did he deem it expedient, for reasons of his own, to summon his assailant to answer before the magistrates for what he had done.”
Ayliffe heard no more of Mr Oxley, but his trials sadly increased from the hour of that gentleman’s violent departure from his humble roof. The poor remnant of his patrimonial estate had dwindled down to the cottage and the slip of ground attached to it. Young Ayliffe continued to work from morning till night like any slave in the plantations; but his industry yielded small result. In addition to the other misfortunes, the infant member of this luckless household, feeble from its birth, and likely to be reared with difficulty, became, by an accident, maimed for life. The black cloud had fairly settled over the habitation.
Sarah, the wife, was about to give birth to another child, when misery appeared to have reached its climax. The once comely furniture had been disposed of by degrees to purchase necessary food; and nothing but horror stared the unfortunates in the face, when an accident took place which gave the final touch to a dismal history that appeared already complete.
“Young Ayliffe, with heavy thoughts in his mind, burthening and depressing it, went one day to his work at a farmer’s at some distance from Milverstoke, having only one companion the whole day long: but that companion appearing good-natured and communicative, the frank young Ayliffe could not refrain from talking about that which was uppermost in his thoughts—the feeble condition of his wife, and her doctor’s constant recommendation of nourishing food. ‘And why don’t you get it, if you care for her?’ inquired his companion with a surprised air, resting for a moment from his work.
“‘Surely,’ quoth poor Ayliffe, ‘you should ask me why I do not get one of the stars out of the sky. Is meat to be picked up in the high road?’
“‘No; not in the high road,’ said the other, drily, ‘but there’s dainty eating for the sick and the gentle to be had—elsewhere.’
“In plain English, Ayliffe’s new friend pointed at game; speaking most temptingly of hare, above all other sorts of game, as a dainty dish, whether roast or stewed, for those that were sick and delicate; and assured Ayliffe that his (the speaker’s) wife had lived secretly on hare all through her time of trouble, and had never in her life thriven so well; for naught was so nourishing as hare’s flesh. Poor Ayliffe listened to this with but too willing an ear, though it went clean contrary to all his own notions, and those which he knew to be entertained by his father. He resisted but very faintly the arguments of his new friend; who indeed fairly staggered Ayliffe, by asking him whether he thought that he did wrong if he caught a hedgehog, a weasel, or a snake, in the field or hedge of another; and if not, why was it different with a hare? Much conversation had they of this sort, in the course of which poor Ayliffe, in the frank simplicity of his nature, gave such a moving picture of his wife’s necessities, as greatly interested his companion; who said that he happened to have by him a very fine hare that had been given him by a neighbouring squire, and which was greatly at Ayliffe’s service. After much hesitation he, with many thanks, accepted the gift; and, accompanying his new friend to his cottage, received into his possession the promised hare, (a finer one certainly was hardly to be seen,) and made his way home with his perilous present, under cover of the thickening shades of night. What horrid misgivings he had, as he went along! How often he resolved either to return the hare to the giver, or fling it over the hedge, as he passed! For he was aware of his danger: there being no part of England where game was more strictly preserved, more closely looked after, or poachers more severely punished, than at Milverstoke. But he thought of his wife—of the relish with which she must partake of this hare; and by the inspiriting aid of thoughts such as these, he nerved himself to encounter her suspicions, and his father’s rebuke and reproaches.”
That rebuke and those reproaches he encountered. Happy had he been had he encountered nothing worse! The hare was rejected by the upright father, but the rejection did not save the son. He had been entrapped into accepting the gift by one who had sent a companion to watch him home, and who, in order to obtain half the penalty, forthwith informed against the unfortunate receiver. The receiver was fined, but Mr Hylton, the vicar, paid the sum required, and released him from his trouble.