Chapter 3 - An Unsuccessful Escort

JAVIER, after he had cleared the dining table, took a survey of the room, and in cracked tones leeched out: 'I wonder how you can stand there idle and worn, when all them have gone out! But there's not use talking to you - you'll never mend over ill ways, but go straight to the devil like your mother afore you!'

I imagined, for a moment, that this sentence was addressed to me; and, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal with an intention of kicking him out of the door. Mrs Hargreaves, however, held me back.

'You scandalous old hypocrite!' she replied. 'Are you not afraid of being carried away whenever you mention the devil's name? I warn you to refrain from provoking me, or I'll ask someone to take you away.

'Oh, wicked, wicked!' gasped the elder; 'may the Lord deliver us from evil!'

'No, you - be off, or I'll hurt you seriously! I'll have you all modelled in wax and clay! Go, I'm looking at you!'

The little witch put a mocked malignity, and Javier, trembling with sincere horror, hurried out, praying, and murmured 'wicked' as he went. Mrs Hargreaves' conduct was prompted by childish fun, nevertheless.

'Mrs Hargreaves,' I said earnestly, 'you must excuse me for troubling you. Do point out some landmarks by which I may follow on my way home: I have no more idea how to get there than you would have how to get to London!'

'Take the road you came,' she answered, fitting herself in a chair, with a candle, and a long book open before her. 'It is brief advice, but as sound as I can give.'

'Then, if you hear of me being discovered dead then it is partly your fault?'

'How so? I cannot escort you. Mr Hargreaves wouldn't allow me to go to the end of the garden wall.'

'You!' I exclaimed, taken aback. 'I should be sorry to ask you to lead me, for my convenience, on such a night,' I cried. 'I want you to tell me my way, not to show it: or else to persuade Mr Hargreaves to give me a guide.'

'Who, though? There is himself, Hareton, Javier, Ema, and I. Which would you have?'

'Are there no boys at the farm?'

'No; those are all.'

'Then, it I shall be compelled to stay.'

'That you may settle with the Sir. I have nothing to do with it.'

Suddenly, from behind me, Hargreaves' stern voice bellowed as I turned round to face its direction.

'I hope it will be a lesson to you to make no more rash journeys on these hills,' cried the suspect. 'As to staying here, I don't keep accommodations for visitors: you must share a bed with Hareton or Javier, if you do.'

'I can sleep on a chair in this room,' I replied.

'No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: I will not permit any one of those sort while I am off guard!' said the unmannerly wretch.

With this insult my patience was at an end. I uttered an expression of disgust, and pushed past him into the yard with haste. It was so dark that I could not see the means of exit. I tried to find Hareton. As I wandered blindly in the dark, I heard someone in a conversation.

'I'll go with him as far as the park,' a feminine voice said.

'You'll go with him to hell!' exclaimed his master, or whatever relation he were to the young man. 'And who is to look after the horses, eh?'

'A man's life is of more consequence than one evening's neglect of the horses: somebody must go,' murmured Mrs. Hargreaves, more kindly than I expected.

'Not at your command!' retorted Hareton. 'If you set store on him, you'd better be quiet.'

'Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr Hargreaves will never get another tenant till the House is at ruins!' the missus answered, sharply.

'Hearken, hearken, she's cursing on 'em!' muttered Javier.

He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern. I stole to his beside where I seized the light source, and, calling out that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest gate.

'Master! Master! He's stealing the lantern' shouted the gruffy ancient, pursuing my retreat. 'Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog! Hey Wolf, holld him, holld him!'

On opening the little door, two hairy monsters flew at my throat, bearing me down, and extinguishing the light. Fortunately, the beasts retreated to stretching their paws, and yawning, and flourishing their tails, rather than devouring me alive. I lost my hat in the unconceivable process, so, hatless and trembling with wrath, I ordered the ruffians to let me out.

The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the nose, and beside me, Hargreaves laughed, and still I scolded. Ema, a maidservant - and the last person to be introduced in this "grand" introductory - came to the scene and shooed away the younger scoundrel on top of me.

'Well, Javier,' she cried, 'I wonder what you'll have again next? Are we going to murder folk on our very door-steps? Look at the poor lad, he's choking! Wisht, wisht; you musn't go on, Mr Lebeau. Come in, and I'll cure that: there now, you hold still.'

With these words she suddenly splashed a pint of icy water down my neck, and pulled me into the kitchen. Mr. Hargreaves followed, his accidental merriment expiring quickly into his habitual moroseness.

I was sick exceedingly, and dizzy, and faint. He told Ema to give me a glass of brandy, and then disappeared back to the inner room. The virtuous Ema consoled me and ushered me to bed.