CHAPTER IV.

OLD ROVER.

IT froze hard all night, and the boys were able to go to school next day, their father desiring them to keep together, not to leave the road, and to come home at once when school was over. The country looked so strange and so lovely in its pure shroud, and when the sun came out a thousand tiny sparkles were lighted up here and there, while the shadows were as blue as the distant hills in summer.

The house in the rick-yard received some improvements during the afternoon, though Lucy could not be there to help; for Jasper seemed low and poorly, and the kind girl would not leave him alone, it was a busy day with her mother.

When story-time came, Jasper began thus:

"I said last night, and I had better say again, that you must attend carefully to all I say, or you won't see how this was all brought about. It was not a snow like this—a winter snow that lies long, day after day the same. It was spring then, and the sun had more power; and altogether it never was as deep as it is now—not nearly.

"One evening Harry and I came in from our work. Mr. Marlowe was here, in this room; he was getting better, and could walk with a stick, but couldn't put on his boots yet.

"He was sitting at the old French bureau yonder, and had it open; on the flat desk there lay some money, mostly in gold. He counted the money; there were twenty sovereigns and some notes, and he said—

"'Michael Hurst came over and paid me for the pony. Now, if it wasn't so bad for travelling, this should go to the bank to-morrow, for I've no fancy for keeping much money in the house.'

"Now, I did not much like the notion of a ride in the snow, so, as he mostly contradicted anything that was said to him, I said—

"'You'd better let me take it in to-morrow, sir; or Harry could go better than me,' I added in a hurry, because, if any one had to go, I had a private reason for wishing it to be myself.

"'I shan't send it at all,' he answered. 'I don't want my horse lost in the snow.'

"And he locked the bureau. I went out, and wandered down to the gate. I was in great fear and trouble. Only the day before a strange boy had met me in the lane and given me a letter from the man I owed the most money to, saying times were bad and he was in want—could I let him have the money? He would be near Marlowe Hay some time soon, and would wait about and try to see me. And there I saw him now, a little bit down the lane.

"My heart stood still with fright! Suppose Katie should see him—and I knew that she was out; he might ask for Harry, meaning me, and then all would come out. I ran to meet him as fast as I could. I reproached him for coming here, putting me in danger. I said that if my uncle ever knew about my goings on, I should be sent away, and then he'd never get the money at all.

"He said he didn't care what became of me, but that he wanted the money and would have it. 'Or money's worth,' he said; 'surely in yonder house there's silver or something that you could give me, and it wouldn't be missed for a long time, nor set down to you by any one. It's not stealing—it's only taking what will be your own one day; for I've been asking, and I find that Harry is the favourite—the other lad hasn't a chance.'

"Every bit of evil that was in me was stirred up at that. I was frightened too; for though I knew that I had little chance of marrying Katie, and being master of Marlowe Hay, I also knew that Hugh Marlowe would act fairly by me. But if he found out all this, he would pack me home to my sister (my poor mother was dead). I don't know how I began to speak of the money I had seen—but I did speak of it.

"'If I'm sent into T— with it to-morrow,' I said, 'I'll pay you out of it, Harper, and run the risk.'

"'Well, now,' said he, 'if you do that, you'll have to run off. Mr. Marlowe is a very hard, unforgiving man, by what I hear of him. He might not send you to jail—if he did, you'd be hanged—but there's always the chance that he might; and, anyhow, he'd punish you somehow. You help me to-night, and I'll pay myself, and give you a fair share too, so that you can pay all you owe, all round.'

"I refused at first, of course; but where is the use of making a long story of it? I gave in at last. It was going to snow again, so that all traces of his steps would be covered, he said. I was to get up and go to the parlour, open the window, and let him in. Harry slept soundly—I had no fear of awaking him."

Here old Jasper paused, and glanced round at the horror-stricken young faces. Lucy's eyes were full of tears, and the boys were white with excitement. Not one of them spoke; but Mrs. Marlowe said gently—

"Tell us no more, Jasper! It is too much for you."

He started as if the sound of her voice awoke him, and took up his story again; he had not taken in the meaning of her words.

"I went to bed as usual, but not to sleep. I lay listening to the clock ticking on the stairs—usually I did not hear the tick, but it sounded loud that night. It struck eleven—twelve—one. I was to go at two, and not before, because by that time the moon would be gone down. I did not dare to move till the time came, and there I lay, hearing nothing but my own heart beating and the clock ticking. But before two struck Harry woke and sat up in his bed.

"'Jasper,' says he presently, 'are you awake? I'm uneasy about the sheep. It's snowing again, and any lambs born to-night will have a bad chance, unless some one goes down to help old Willy with them. I think I'll go.'

"'Oh, go to sleep!' said I. 'And don't be such a fool. Little thanks you'll get for your trouble.'

"'I don't want thanks for doing my work,' he said. 'I'll go.' And he got up and dressed quickly. He took his shoes in his hand, and stole downstairs, opening the hall door so gently that, although I was on the watch, I did not hear it.

"Now, indeed, I was terrified. Suppose Harper thought it was I who was at the door—suppose Harry saw him lurking about! But as a little time passed, I began to breathe again—all seemed safe so far. When two struck, I got up, dressed, took my shoes, as Harry had done, and stole downstairs.

"I had been wondering how Harry intended to get in again. I found that he had contrived to chain the door from the outside, and had left it ajar. I hesitated. Should I go out to meet Harper, using the hall door, or should I keep to our plan, and go to the window? It seemed to me that to go out to him was the best plan—there would be no noise at all if we came in by the hall door.

"I found Harper under the window—that window at the end of the room.

"'You young fool!' said he. 'Why have you come out? Your footsteps will betray you.'

"'The snow will cover them,' I said.

"'Don't you see that it is hardly snowing now? Just my cursed luck—it will be quite clear in half an hour, and my steps, as well as yours, will be seen! But I suppose yours don't matter—probably you are often round here.'

"'No,' I whispered, 'I am not—the path leads to nothing. Oh, Harper, go away—it is too dangerous now to do anything!'

"'You made the danger by coming out—I mean, the danger for yourself—and you may take the consequences! Get in again and open this window.'

"'The hall door is open,' I told him; 'come in by it. It will be quieter and easier.'

"'Well,' he said, 'of all the fools I ever met, give me Harry Franks! Can't you see, you donkey, that I might break in by a window without your help, but could hardly unlock the hall door? Get in and open this window at once.'

"I was so frightened that I really was a fool for the time at least. I never tried to explain that I had not opened the door myself, but went in again as I was bid. I opened the window, and he broke some of the glass, and scratched the paint of the shutters, to make it look as if he had broken in; then he set to work to pick the lock of the bureau. The strange, pale light of the snow had been enough for him until now, but he lighted a lantern when he began upon the lock.

"I went wandering about the room in as great misery as I deserved to be, and presently I stumbled over something soft and warm—something alive. I very nearly cried out in my terror. It was poor old Rover; he generally slept in the kitchen, but had got shut in here that night by mischance. The poor old dog was stupid with age, and stone deaf; but my touch roused him, and he had sense enough left to know that we were up to no good. He growled and ran at Harper—I after him, just going to call to him, when Harper said in a low voice—

"'Silence, you fool! A sound now might hang us both.'

"And he seized up the poker from the fireplace and gave the old dog a blow on the head. He never stirred after it.

"I was so sick; the blow seemed to fall on my heart. I have heard it in my dreams many a time.

"But I had little time to think of it then—the bureau was open. I pointed out the drawer, and Harper took the gold. He fingered the notes greedily, but muttered, 'Not safe; I dare not take those.' He thrust something into my pockets, saying—

"'Here, Harry, that's your share, and you're out of my debt besides.'

"'I won't have any of it,' I was just saying, when we heard a sound that drove everything else out of our heads. We heard a heavy step in the room overhead—Mr. Marlowe's room. Before we could collect our senses, he was on the stairs. Harper had got his tools together before; he seized his bag, blew out his lantern, and sprang out through the window, leaving me alone in the room with the dead body of poor Rover to face Mr. Marlowe alone.

"I heard Mr. Marlowe coming down in his slippers, for he could not get on his boots yet. He paused in the hall, and said—

"'Who's there? Who is at the door?' Then he went into the porch. Next moment I heard him under the front window—that one—" and the old man pointed. "Those shutters, of course, were shut. He stood there for a few moments. I opened the parlour door softly, closed it again, and flew upstairs, lame as I was—fear gave strength, and I seemed to fly. I reached my room, flung off my clothes, and jumped into bed. I heard Mr. Marlowe shut and lock the hall door, and just as I was in bed, he came upstairs. He opened the door of our room and came in.

"'Boys, are you here?' said he.

"'Oh, sir,' said I, sitting up, 'what's the matter?'

"'That's Jasper. Yes; I see you.'

"He crossed over to Harry's bed.

"'Ha!' said he, 'so it's you, Harry. Left the hall door wide open, too. Jasper, where is Harry?'

"'I—I've been asleep!' I said. 'I don't know. Isn't he in his bed?'

"'Not he!' said Mr. Marlowe. 'But never mind; I'll find out all about it in the morning. Since he's so fond of the fresh air, he may stay out now till the maids are up.'

"And he went back to his room.

"I got up and looked anxiously from the window. It was not snowing; our footsteps would tell the whole story in the morning. I wished and wished that it might snow. I would have prayed for it if I had dared, but I did not dare. I watched till I saw a black thing moving over the snow. Harry coming up the walk. I was wondering how I could let him in, when suddenly it struck me that if he was wandering about all the rest of the night, he might happen to trample out my footprints; he might even get the blame of having broken the window. I had not time to think it all out. I went back to bed, and was hardly in when Harry was at the window, having climbed up by the ivy. He opened the window and came in.

"'Harry,' I said, 'is it going to snow?'

"'No,' he answered, 'it's freezing hard now. Who shut the hall door, Jasp?'

"'I don't know,' I said; 'I've been asleep.'

"He went to bed, and was soon fast asleep.

"Oh, what a night that was! It must have been three o'clock then, at least, yet it seemed to me hours and hours before it struck five; somehow I did not hear it at four. At five I went to the window again, and I saw that it was snowing. I was quite spent and weary. I crept back to bed and fell asleep, muttering over and over, 'I'm saved, I'm saved; it's snowing at last.'

"All that is clear in my mind; but the horror of the next day has never been clear. It has always been like a dreadful dream to me.

"Of course Betty and Milly, the two maids, no sooner entered the parlour in the morning, but the alarm was raised. Their cries woke me; but what I did, or what any one did, I don't remember clearly. 'Twas the killing of the old dog that made Hugh Marlowe so furious. He swore solemnly that he would never rest till the thief was found out and hanged; ay, if it was the nearest and dearest to him, he should hang, for killing the faithful, harmless old creature that his Katherine had loved.

"But when or how suspicion fell on Harry I don't know; of course, it was because he had been out; but I cannot remember, and I never could rightly understand—partly, no doubt, because I never could bear to talk of it. I think three or four days passed before they became sure that it was Harry. They discovered the debts in T—, really mine, but in his name. This seemed to supply a reason for the theft, and when our room was searched, the few sovereigns Harper had given me were found hidden in a chink in the floor.

"Harry was like one distracted when he understood that he was suspected. He appealed to me to say that I knew he had gone to the Long Pasture, but I stuck to what I had said to Mr. Marlowe. I had been asleep, and knew nothing. Harry had found all well, and old Willy, the shepherd, fast asleep in the shed—and had not roused him. So the old man could not prove that he had been there.

"Mr. Marlowe was like a madman, between horror and illness; his pain was very bad, for he had taken a bad chill, that night. He would say nothing but, 'I'll keep my oath. I could forgive the deceit and the debts, ay, and the theft; but that you should kill the old dog—you, that made believe to be fond of him—that I'll 'never' forgive! Off with him, constable; take him to the lock-up, and if the raising of my finger would save him, I wouldn't raise it.'

"Harry was as white as death; but he stood firm and spoke up clearly.

"'Listen to me, Uncle Hugh,' he said; 'the truth will come out when I am tried, if not before. I am not much afraid. But you have been so good to me, and I love you and yours so well, that this is hard to bear. Why should I have hurt old Rover, if I were the thief? Don't you know that he never would have meddled with me? He knew me, and loved me. I only ask you to wait, sir; surely the truth must come out. Don't put such a shame upon me as to send me to T— jail, among all the rogues and vagabonds of the county. If you once do that, you couldn't save me, suppose I fail to prove my innocence, even if you were sure of it yourself.'

"'You may as well stop there,' Hugh Marlowe said; 'I'm not listening to you.'

"Harry turned to me.

"'You could prove something, Jasper. You know that I went out, saying that I was going to the Long Pasture. I have always been kind to you, Jasper. Why do you refuse to help me?'

"More than one in the room looked hard at me. I felt my hands grow cold and my head begin to swim. I said angrily—

"'I know naught about it.' And then I slunk away and fell into a chair, nearly fainting.

"But I heard Katie's voice, clear and high, as she ran to Harry's side, crying—

"'I don't believe it of you, Harry; I never will! Don't be afraid, dear Harry; God loves you—surely He does; you are so good, and He will bring the truth to light.'

"Those were the only words of comfort poor Harry heard, and he slept that night in T—jail, and, I doubt, slept sounder and more sweetly than I did in my comfortable bed here. In a day or two I felt so strange; I began to feel sure that I should betray myself if I stayed here, seeing Katie so miserable, and I made up my mind to run away. I wrote a letter to Mr. Marlowe, saying that I could not bear the notion that Harry might call me as a witness—and that was very true, for if he did, I knew the lawyers would get the truth out of me. I had once been in the court-house to see a trial. I begged that I might not be searched for. I went off in the night and wandered away, I don't know whither. I remember very little about it.

"What happened here, and how the truth came out almost, one may say, by a miracle, I did not see for myself; but Katie told me afterwards."

"I think, sir," said the master, "that my grandmother's story may as well wait till to-morrow."

"Very well, Harry," said the old man. And then he looked at them all sadly, wistfully, and said—

"You know me now; but I will say one word more. I truly did believe that when he was tried, Harry would be able to prove his innocence. I persuaded myself that I was the one really in danger. But it appeared that I was mistaken in this. Hugh Marlowe sent a lawyer to Harry to get up a defence for him, and the lawyer had very little hope of being able to clear him, or, at least, he said so to Harry. It may have been only to make him speak out plainly, which Harry would not do. Of course, he knew very well who it was who had used his name and got into debt, and this made him suspect that I was the thief, only he did not believe that I would have killed old Rover. He made up his mind not to say a word that could turn suspicion on me. For this, he himself told me his reason afterwards. What do you think it was? Why, that in his heart he could not quite forgive me for having so used his name, and so he felt the more bound to do nothing that could injure me. 'Twould be revenge, he said, and God's law forbade us to revenge ourselves. His mother, who was a saint, if ever one lived on earth, had taught him this. Boys—children—have you no word to say to me?"

The lads sat silent. At last young Harry blurted out—

"You—you repented, Uncle Jasper. Oh, but I am proud of my great-grandfather!"

But Lucy stole to the old man's side and kissed him, whispering softly—

"I love you, Uncle Jasper; we all love you."

"God bless you, Lucy!" he said.

And then he rose up and went away to his own room.

The boys went to theirs, where Hugh burst out fiercely—

"It was so sneaking! It was so cowardly! That's what I can't get over."

"Yet Harry and Katie forgave him," said little Frank.

"Yes," said young Harry; "and it is like God to forgive. I am so glad I bear his name; I do hope I may be a good man, like him."

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