The Argosy — page 214: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Up on the Moor. 197 little trouble I shall cause you. And I'll promise to mend your door for you into the bargain! Only let me have a bit of fire at once, for this fog of yours has chilled my very marrow.” Widow Trownson began new expostulations, which her visitor sum- marily cut short. ‘Just tell me where you keep your wood, or peat, or whatever it 1s, and I'll soon have a blaze myself, if you really are too scared to set about it for me, guidwife.” The threat seemed at once to collect the old lady’s scattered wits, and she hurriedly hobbled from the room, muttering as she went : ‘““He’m that masterful, he’m just nayther to hold nor to bind! Lit un take it on’s own head if harm cometh of it.” After a short absence, the widow returned with an abundant supply of peats, and with trembling fingers hastened to build up a fire, whose glowing heat soon restored the circulation to the young man’s chilled frame. ‘Then, with an alacrity much in contrast to her previous reluctance, she proceeded to place on the table a coarse loaf and a piece of cold bacon, and also to prepare some tea, the heat of which in some degree compensated for its villainous flavour. While the self-invited guest was busy doing more than justice to the scanty meal, his hostess absented herself, but presently reappeared with a strange air of mingled fear and perplexity about her. ‘““T’ve a made ’ee up a bed in there, zir,” she said, in a trembling voice, pointing to an inner apartment. ‘“‘ Yer honour’ll vind it clane, tho’ maybe it ba’nt zo zoft as you’m used to lay on. Will ’ee be plazed to go in now, zir, and give me off yer wet things to dry ’ere by the fire, ready for the morn ?” “TI hope I haven’t taken your own bed, guidwife ?” “Nay, I sleepeth allus in the press-bed, yander. Then I'll gie yer honour a end o’ candle now, an’ ye’ll gie me out the wat cloze, Meeteet 2 Bap wp the fire, an’ -they'll:be drys a “bone “by the morn.” “Really, my ancient hostess grows quite attentive,” thought Mr. Fairburn, as he retired for the night into the little lean-to at the back of the hut, and willingly complied with her injunctions regarding the outer portions of his attire. ‘The sheet which covered his impromptu couch was of the coarsest, but fragrant of lavender and thyme, and if the straw mattress was hard it was also scrupulously clean. So, as the weary wanderer sank into dreamless repose, his last conscious thought was to the effect that his unpleasant adventure had after all led to a very tolerable conclusion. Had Mr. Fairburn suddenly opened his eyes some three hours dater he might have felt less confident on the subject. Close over him there leant a tall, powerfully-built man, with the look of a hunted animal in his small, sharp eyes, and the firm lines of desperate resolve imprinted on every feature. Slowly and noiselessly the door had been opened, admitting a few faint red rays from the dying embers n COnniclbooks (SO) im