Chapter XII: The Price of Sarah Jane

The air was heavy with unshed rain, and the Moor reeked after past storms of night, as Jarratt rode over Lyd river and breasted the slopes of Bra Tor. A boy on a pony followed him, and two dogs brought up the rear. Mr. Weekes was come to drive some colts off their pastures; and, being doubtful, to a few miles, where they might be found, he had made an early start. Great clouds hid the summits of the land, and water shone in pools or fell in rivulets on every side.

Then it was that, passing through the mediæval ruins of old enterprise, where once Elizabethan miners streamed the Moor for tin, the keeper of Lydford Castle suddenly found himself face to face with a man much in his thoughts of late. Though he had never seen Brendon until that hour, he recognized him instantly by reason of his great size. Daniel was walking up the hill with his face towards the peat-works, and he carried a message from Mr. Woodrow to Gregory Friend.

"Good-morning!" shouted Jarratt, and the pedestrian stopped. Soon Weekes was beside him and had leisure to note his rival. The great brown face, square jaw, dog-like eyes and immense physical strength of the man were all noted in a searching glance; and he also saw what pleased him little: that Brendon was better dressed, cleaner, and smarter every way than a common hind.

"Have you seen my colts this way, neighbour?" he asked. "They're ear-marked with red worsted."

"Then I met with them only yesterday. There's a grey mare in foal along with them."

"That's right."

"You'll find 'em down in the strolls on this side Rattle-brook for certain."

"Much obliged to you."

Weekes shouted to his boy, directed the road, and told him to proceed and wait by the river until he himself should follow. Then he turned again to Brendon.

"You're not a Lydford man, are you?"

"No. I belong to Ruddyford--down-along. I'm just going up to the peat-works with a message. You'll be Mr. Jarratt Weekes, I suppose?"

"Jarratt Weekes is my name. And what's yours?"

"Daniel Brendon."

"Ah! you're not easily forgot. I suppose you don't know of anybody who wants a horse? This one I'm riding is for sale."

Brendon found Mr. Weekes walking slowly up the hill beside him. His pulse quickened. He guessed that the other meant to speak of matters more personal presently, for it had come to his ears that Jarratt Weekes publicly refused to give up Sarah Jane. Agg brought news from Lydford how Weekes had said in the bar of the Castle Inn that he was engaged to Gregory Friend's daughter, and would punish any man who denied it.

"A good horse seemingly. Have 'e asked my master, Mr. Woodrow? He's only waiting to be tempted, I believe."

"A good horse, as you say; but he won't carry beer," explained Jarratt Weekes. "Not that I ever want him to do so; but he's always nervous of the dark. Old farmer Routleigh used to have him; then, coming home market-merry from Okehampton, he got into trouble and was left in the hedge. I like the horse very well, but he's barely up to my weight. He'd suit Woodrow exactly, I should judge."

"I'll mention the matter to him."

"Thank you, Brendon. Brendon was it you said, or Brandon?"

"Brendon's my name."

"Lucky I met you, then, for I've wanted to have a say with you for some time."

Daniel did not answer.

"Look here, now--between men there need be no beating about the bush. That's women's way. And a woman I want to talk about. In Lydford they are mentioning the name of a Daniel Brendon with that of Miss Friend, who lives up here for the present at Dunnagoat Cottage with her father."

The other's face hardened, and a heavy look came into his eyes; but he did not speak.

"That's not as it should be," continued Jarratt Weekes. "It gets about, and then there's wrong ideas in the air. Living up here, the girl can't hear it or contradict it. But 'tis a very unmaidenly thing for her to be talked over like that, and, frankly, I don't much like it, Brendon."

Still Daniel preserved silence. His heart was beating hard; he felt anger running in his veins and his jaws fastening on each other. But he made no answer. Instead he stopped, slowly drew his pipe and a tobacco-pouch from his pocket, and prepared to smoke.

"Buckets more rain be coming," he said presently, looking at the sky.

"Don't change the subject, please. Answer my question."

"I don't know you'd asked one."

"You're wasting time to pretend ignorance. Say what you've got to say. I've a perfect reason and right to speak to you on this delicate matter, and everybody well knows it--but yourself apparently. Now speak."

"You had better finish telling first," answered Daniel.

"To me you appear to be on a wild goose chase altogether, and talking no better than silly rummage. Why are you so busy about Sarah Jane Friend? Tell me that, and then 'twill be time for me to talk to you. Let's have your reason and right you mention, if you please, Mr. Weekes."

"My reason and right is that I am going to marry her myself. We are engaged. Everybody knows that very well. And nobody better than Sarah Jane Friend. It happens that I've been exceedingly busy lately--too busy to be quite so lover-like as I ought. So she's been amusing herself by drawing you on. But 'tis beyond a joke now, and I'll have no more of it, or I'll speak to your master."

"Ah!" said the other, "that's the sort of man you are, then? My girl was wise to throw you over, and your dirty money too. Tokened to you, you liar! I wonder the hand of God don't drive you into the dust for saying it! Tokened to you--when you know so well as I do that, last Sunday week, she told you, once for all, she wasn't going to take you? What d'you think me and she are? A pair of fools to go down afore your brazen voice?"

"You'd better not have me for an enemy, my man. It won't pay you in the long run, I promise you."

"Bluster's a fine weapon--to back a lie; but truth can stand without it. You've told me a string of lies, and well you knew they were."

He lighted his pipe, and Weekes laughed.

"Well, well, you're a smart man, I find. I'll give you that credit. You see pretty far through a millstone--eh? If you won't knock under to me, then we'll start again, and put it on a business footing. I want no misunderstanding with you. This girl thinks she's fond of you for the moment. I'll grant that much. But you'll see, if you really care a button about her, that her prosperity would be a good deal surer with me than with you. You needn't be angry at all. This is a matter of business. I want her. I've known her--long, long before ever you did; and if you hadn't turned up from God knows where, she'd have come to me right and proper when I decided I was ready for her. I am ready for her now. If I'd asked her a month sooner, she'd have come without question, of course; but meanwhile she had seen you, and was taken, like a child, with your size. So it stands. I grant that you've got the whip hand for the minute. You have me in your power up to any reasonable sum. It lies in a nutshell, Daniel Brendon. What's your figure?"

"For chucking her?"

"For leaving her alone to come to her senses. Money's not got every day; a wife can be. If you want the last, there's no better way to get 'em than with the first."

"Yet Sarah Jane put me afore your cash seemingly?"

"Like any foolish girl might in a rash moment. But you're not a fool, or I'm no judge of character. You're a man of ideas and ambitions. I thought you were a common labourer. That's what made me rather savage. I see you're a man as good as myself--every bit. So I'll forgive Sarah that much, and appeal to your sense of justice to give me back my own. And since I know well enough you will be making a great sacrifice, I offer you an equivalent."

Daniel listened.

"A generous chap you are, then?"

"Yes, I am. I don't want to exert force, or trust to my position. I meet you man to man equal. I've long been as good as tokened to her, and it would be a very wicked thing for you to come between us. I'll not say you have no rights, however; I'll not say that a silly woman's passing whim isn't to count. I'll grant everything--everything in reason. I'll allow that you won her fair and square, though she didn't tell you quite the truth, I'm afraid. I'll allow that for the moment she honestly thinks that she loves you better than she loves me. But, beyond all that, there's these two points. I'll offer you good money to drop this, as in justice to me you should do at once; and I'll say that if you want Sarah Jane to be happy and content and prosperous, you must see that I'm the man to make her so--not you."

"That's your side, then?"

"Yes; that's my side--the side of justice and wisdom, if you come to think of it."

"And what's the figure? I'm a poor man, and oughtn't to lose a chance of making good money, Mr. Weekes. 'Tis the opportunity of a lifetime, you see. 'Twill never come again."

"Well, I'm no skinflint. Give her up and I'll let you have ten pounds."

"Ten pounds! That's an awful lot!"

"A lot of money, as you say."

"But not enough for Sarah Jane."

Weekes held the battle as good as won, and now determined to fight for the lowest figure possible. He was rather astonished to succeed so easily, and from great anxiety leapt quickly over to the other extreme of contempt.

"You're greedy, I'm afraid."

"No, no--not greedy, only businesslike. I won her fairly, you see. Us can't all go uphill, like you. Some stands still; some goes down. Here's my chance to go up a little."

"I'll make it fifteen, then."

"'Tis for me to make the figure now, and for you to pay it. I suppose the question is what's Sarah Jane Friend worth to you?"

"Not at all," answered Jarratt. "That's neither here nor there. All I want to know is what money you'll drop her for. And I warn you not to be too greedy, else I may get rusty on my side and take her by force for nothing."

"I see; I must be reasonable?"

"Of course--give and take in business."

"Well, then, suppose we say--a hundred million pounds?"

"Don't be a fool," answered the other testily. "I'm not talking to you for fun."

Then Daniel's temper burst from control.

"God damn you, you ugly, cross-eyed cur! To dare to come to a man and offer ten pounds to him for his woman! You flint-faced wretch!--a withered thing like you to think of her! I----"

"You'd better----" began Weekes; but Brendon roared him down.

"Shut your mouth! 'Tis your turn now to hear me! If you dare to speak again, I'll pull you off your horse and take the skin from your bones! What dirt d'you think I'm made of, to tell this wickedness in my ears? I wonder you ban't struck for it. Ten pounds for Sarah Jane; and you sit there on your horse under Heaven and nothing done against you! But it won't be forgot--remember that. 'Tis a black mark upon your name for evermore. Ten pounds; and you ought to be damned ten times over for every shilling of it! And if ever you come anigh her again, I'll break your neck, God's my judge! A man as she's said 'No' to a dozen times! Go and hang yourself, you grey rat! She wouldn't have you if you was made of gold, and well you know it. To say as I came between you! To say she'd be a happier woman along with you than with me! Happy with you--as reckon she'm worth ten pounds! There--get away after your ponies, and never you look into her face or mine again, or I'll knock your two eyes into one--so now you know!"

He strode on up the hill, panting and raging like a bull, while Weekes looked after him. Jarratt had turned very grey under this torrent of abuse. He was stung by the other's scorn, and felt that he did not deserve it. But he kept his wits, and perceived that Brendon, huge and loutish though he might be, had proved too clever for him in this matter. The lover of Sarah Jane had trapped Mr. Weekes by a pretended greed, and led him into folly. He realized that probably the world in general, and Sarah Jane in particular, would presently hear that he had offered a ten-pound note for her; and then raised the figure reluctantly to fifteen. This was not likely to advance his reputation at Lydford, or elsewhere. He even imagined the schoolboys shouting vulgar remarks after him along the public way.

Now he sat still on his horse for full five minutes. Then he rode after Brendon and overtook him.

"Only one word," he said. "Forget this. I didn't understand you. I'll interfere with you no more. You were right, and I was wrong. As you are victorious, be generous. Don't let my folly go further. We all make mistakes. I have erred, Mr. Brendon, and I regret it."

Brendon regarded Jarratt doubtfully. The giant still panted with his anger, and steam rolled out from his mouth in puffs upon the wet, dark air.

"'Tis human to err; 'tis human to forgive. I was wrong--very wrong. I own it. Who can do more? We've all got our weak places, and money is mine. Let them without sin cast the first stone. Remember what I must feel to lose Sarah Jane."

This last stroke answered its purpose, and Brendon relented very slowly.

"I know well enough what that must be."

"Be generous then to a desperate man. Hide up this that I have told you. The sum is nothing. I knew well enough you wouldn't take ten--or ten thousand. In sober honesty I'm much poorer than folk think, though I pretend to be warm. Anyway, I ask you to pardon me for insulting you, and to keep this talk secret--even from her. No man likes his mistakes blazed out for the people to scoff at. Do as you'd be done by in this--that's all I ask."

He pleaded better than he knew, for the victor already regretted his own coarse language.

"Let it be, then," answered Brendon. "Go your way, and I'll go mine; and not a word of this will pass my lips. We was both wrong--you to think of such a vile thing, and me to curse you. 'Twas all fair, and you had first say to her; but she likes me best, so there's no more to be said."

"I'll abide by that," answered Jarratt Weekes. Then he turned his horse's head and rode away, with Care behind him, and such a load of hatred in his heart that it seemed to poison his blood and choke him physically. He gasped, and the evil words of Daniel Brendon--uttered with passion--were as thistledown to the thoughts that now bred within the brain of his enemy. A violent lust for revenge grew up in the soul of Jarratt Weekes from that hour; but Brendon, for his part, quickly repented of the things that he had said; displayed a victor's magnanimity; felt something of the other's tragic and eternal loss; and found it in his heart to sorrow for him.

Daniel also mourned for himself and his mighty lapse of temper and self-control. That night he prayed to be pardoned; he trembled to consider where his sudden rages might some day lead him; he thanked his Saviour for unutterable blessings, and implored that a greater patience, humility, and gentleness might be added to his character. He called also upon Heaven to sustain Jarratt Weekes under this shattering stroke, and begged that it might presently be put in his power to do the disappointed man some service.