Cruel As The Grave

"And so that is the way in which you accounted for matters and things

that you couldn't understand?"

"To be sure it was; and very natural too."

"Shall I tell him the whole truth?" inquired Lyon Berners of himself. "I

will sound him first," he concluded. Then speaking up, he said: "Well, you cannot blame people for being cautious, after that horrible

murder at Black Hall."

"That's so too," admitted the farmer.

"And yet," added Mr. Berners, "they do say that it was no robber that

did that murder, but the lady of the house who did it."

"The lady of the house!" indignantly echoed the farmer, to Lyon's great

astonishment. "Don't you go to say that; for if you do, devil burn me if

I don't knock you down with the butt end of my gun!"

"I do not say it. I only tell you what other people say."

"They lie! the hounds! And I wish I could meet any of them venomous

backbiters face to face. Satan fly away with me if I wouldn't tear

their false tongues out of their throats, and throw them to the dogs!

You don't mean to say you believe she did it?" fiercely demanded

Sybil's rough champion.

"No; Heaven knows I do not! I believe her to be as guiltless as an

angel."

"I'm glad to hear you say that! I don't want to pitch into an unarmed

man, but I should a' been strongly tempted to 'a done it if you'd said

anything else."

"You know this injured lady, then?"

"Yes; I have knowed her ever since she was a little gal. Not as ever I

met her face to face in my life, but I know her as every poor man and

poor child and poor brute in the whole country knows her: as the

kindest, gentlest, tenderest-hearted lady in the whole world--she who

has been known to take the fur cloak off her own back, and lay it over

the form of a sick beggar, while she went home in the cold to send her

warm blankets. Yes, and known to have done scores of deeds as good and

self-sacrificing as that. She do the thing they accuse her of! Why,

sir, she no more did it than I, or you, or your own sweet wife did it!

And Satan burn me! when I hear of any man accusing her of it, if I

don't feel just like knocking his dull brains out, and taking the

consequences--that I do!" swore the farmer.

"I will trust him," said Lyon Berners to himself.

--"And to think that men who call themselves law officers, not to say

Christians, should hunt that lovely lady through the country as if she

was some wild beast or highway robber! I wish one of them hunters was to

come my way. I'm blowed to flinders if I wouldn't set my whole pack of

dogs on 'em till they would be torn to pieces. I'd give 'em hunting! But

excuse me, Mr.--Mr.--What's-your-name; I've gone away from the pint,

which I always do fly off at a tangent and lose my bearings whenever I

hear that lady accused. Now, sir, what had you to tell me to my

advantage?" inquired the farmer, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket

and wiping his heated face.