“Well, Jenny,” said Mr. Simon Degge. “I am sorry to say that we shall be obliged to send you to the county jail, for not revealing this murder; but I don’t think you need be much afraid. It is pretty clear you could not help yourselves.”
“Well, then,” said Jenny, “pray, your worships, just let us go our ways till we are wanted. We’ll only tantle about i’ th’ neighbourhood here; we’ll come when wanted. But to shut us up within stone walls would kill us. Ween been used to wander and wander for these fifteen years. It’s second natur to us. We liken to sit and hear the lark singing over our heads on th’ open moors; and hear th’ wind i’ th’ trees, and th’ water running i’ th’ brucks; and to smell th’ smell o’ th’ woods and commons, and to lie and sleep a bit under a tree i’ th’ pleasant summer dees. Shut us up, and you might as well hang us off at once. Our lives are of no use to nobody. They are going fast out, like the down as blows off the dandy-lion. So pray yer just let us daudle on.”
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Degge, “that the law does not allow us to do that. You must pass your time till the March assizes within the limits of the county jail; but there are airy, large court-yards there, and the jailer will make you comfortable.”
“Comfortable!” said the old woman, “and not a blade o’ grass to be seen, nor a green tree, nothing but stone, stone, stone! Well, what mun be, mun be. God give us patience, and send us well out of it.”
The old woman made her curtseys to the gentlemen, and the old man following her example, made his bows, and they were turning to go out.
“Latter will take them along with Hopcraft,” said Mr. Degge. “He is waiting for that purpose.”
“Take us with Hopcraft!” said the old woman. “No, your worships, you won’t demean us so, as to take us as criminals. We’ll walk. We’ll just tantle down by the river side, and give ourselves up. It’s God’s truth, we shan’t try to get away; and where, indeed, could such poor owd creeturs get away to?”
Mr. Degge turned, and said something to Sir Henry, who nodded in reply. And Mr. Degge said:—“Well, Jenny, you shall have it as you like. You can go and take your time, so that you give yourselves up before four o’clock at the county jail, where Latter will take the warrant.”
“Thank your worships, kindly,” said the old woman, echoed by her feeble old husband, and out they toddled. A servant from the hall-farm was ordered to keep an eye on them from a distance, but not to let them perceive him. The magistrates felt bound to this precaution to satisfy the law, though they had not any doubt of the old couple surrendering themselves. The young man, accordingly, went along the fields at a distance, as if engaged in looking after sheep, or the state of the fields, and saw the old couple slowly wander down to the river, and sit down, and remain for an hour. Then they went on again, and then staid in some pleasant nook, as if they were making the most of their liberty, and their beloved field-life. Thus they went on, till they came to the main ferry, which they crossed, without seeming to say anything to the ferryman. When over, instead of taking the direct way to the town, they struck away to the left into the great meadows, and in a direction towards a manufacturing suburb. The young man now began to have some fears that their intention was to cut across, and get into that suburb, and hide themselves. He prepared to be not far off, and if they attempted this, to prevent it. But he soon found that they only went to a meadow stream, where the autumn flowers, the purple loosestrife, with its tall spikes, and the luscious meadow-sweet, and white water-ranunculuses were still blowing, and of which the old woman gathered a nosegay to carry with her into the prison.
Duly, at four o’clock, the old couple appeared at the prison-door, and surrendered themselves. They had gone to the house of some poor acquaintance, and had tea, and borrowed a mug to put their flowers into water; and now they had voluntarily entered the great and, to them, dreaded house of bondage. There we may leave them to their fate for the present, with this reflection, that if they had not the liberty of the fields and moorlands, they were, at least, relieved from the daily dread of the murderous hand of Scammel.