From this proposal, however, she recoiled with the sameindescribable repugnance she had manifested when they met. Theutmost that could be wrung from her was, a promise that she wouldreceive Mr Haredale at her own house next evening, and in the meantime reconsider her determination and their dissuasions--though anychange on her part, as she told them, was quite hopeless. Thiscondition made at last, they reluctantly suffered her to depart,since she would neither eat nor drink within the house; and she,and Barnaby, and Grip, accordingly went out as they had come, bythe private stair and garden-gate; seeing and being seen of no oneby the way.
It was remarkable in the raven that during the whole interview hehad kept his eye on his book with exactly the air of a very slyhuman rascal, who, under the mask of pretending to read hard, waslistening to everything. He still appeared to have theconversation very strongly in his mind, for although, when theywere alone again, he issued orders for the instant preparation ofinnumerable kettles for purposes of tea, he was thoughtful, andrather seemed to do so from an abstract sense of duty, than withany regard to making himself agreeable, or being what is commonlycalled good company.
They were to return by the coach. As there was an interval offull two hours before it started, and they needed rest and somerefreshment, Barnaby begged hard for a visit to the Maypole. Buthis mother, who had no wish to be recognised by any of those whohad known her long ago, and who feared besides that Mr Haredalemight, on second thoughts, despatch some messenger to that place ofentertainment in quest of her, proposed to wait in the churchyardinstead. As it was easy for Barnaby to buy and carry thither suchhumble viands as they required, he cheerfully assented, and in thechurchyard they sat down to take their frugal dinner.
Here again, the raven was in a highly reflective state; walking up and down when he had dined, with an air of elderly complacencywhich was strongly suggestive of his having his hands under hiscoat-tails; and appearing to read the tombstones with a verycritical taste. Sometimes, after a long inspection of an epitaph,he would strop his beak upon the grave to which it referred, andcry in his hoarse tones, "I"m a devil, I"m a devil, I"m a devil!"
but whether he addressed his observations to any supposed personbelow, or merely threw them off as a general remark, is matter ofuncertainty.
It was a quiet pretty spot, but a sad one for Barnaby"s mother; forMr Reuben Haredale lay there, and near the vault in which his ashesrested, was a stone to the memory of her own husband, with a briefinscription recording how and when he had lost his life. She sathere, thoughtful and apart, until their time was out, and thedistant horn told that the coach was coming.
Barnaby, who had been sleeping on the grass, sprung up quickly atthe sound; and Grip, who appeared to understand it equally well,walked into his basket straightway, entreating society in general(as though he intended a kind of satire upon them in connectionwith churchyards) never to say die on any terms. They were soon onthe coach-top and rolling along the road.
It went round by the Maypole, and stopped at the door. Joe wasfrom home, and Hugh came sluggishly out to hand up the parcel thatit called for. There was no fear of old John coming out. Theycould see him from the coach-roof fast asleep in his cosy bar. Itwas a part of John"s character. He made a point of going to sleepat the coach"s time. He despised gadding about; he looked uponcoaches as things that ought to be indicted; as disturbers of thepeace of mankind; as restless, bustling, busy, horn-blowingcontrivances, quite beneath the dignity of men, and only suited togiddy girls that did nothing but chatter and go a-shopping. "Weknow nothing about coaches here, sir," John would say, if anyunlucky stranger made inquiry touching the offensive vehicles; "wedon"t book for "em; we"d rather not; they"re more trouble thanthey"re worth, with their noise and rattle. If you like to waitfor "em you can; but we don"t know anything about "em; they maycall and they may not--there"s a carrier--he was looked upon asquite good enough for us, when I was a boy."
She dropped her veil as Hugh climbed up, and while he hung behind,and talked to Barnaby in whispers. But neither he nor any otherperson spoke to her, or noticed her, or had any curiosity abouther; and so, an alien, she visited and left the village where she had been born, and had lived a merry child, a comely girl, a happywife--where she had known all her enjoyment of life, and hadentered on its hardest sorrows.