by M. P. Shiel
II
THE FEZ
Frankl took up residence at Westring in September, and by Novemberevery ale-house, market, and hiring in Westring had become a scene ofdiscussion.
The cause was this: Frankl had sent out to his tenants a Circularcontaining the words:
"...tenants to use for wear in the Vale a _fez with tassel_ asthe Livery of the Manor...the will of the Lord of the Manor...noexception..."
But though intense, the excitement was not loud: for want was in manya home; though after three weeks there were still six farmers whoresisted.
And it happened one day that five of these at the Martinmas "Mop," orhiring, were discussing the matter, when they spied the sixth boring hisway, and one exclaimed: "Yonder goes Hogarth! Let's hear what _he's_ gotto say!" and set to calling.
Hogarth twisted, and came winning his way, taller than the crowd, with"What's up? Hullo, Clinton--not a moment to spare to-day--"
"We were a-talking about that Circular--!" cried one.
At that moment two other men joined the group: one a dark-skinned Jewof the Moghrabim; the other a young man--an English author--on tour. Andthese two heard what passed.
Hogarth stood suspended, finding no words, till one cried: "Do you meanto put the cap on?"
He laughed a little now. "_I!_ The whip! The whip!"--he showed hishunting-crop, and was gone.
His manner of speech was rapid, and he had a hoarse sort of voice,almost as of sore-throat.
Of the two not farmers, one--the author--enquired as to his name, andfarm; the other man--the Moghrabim Jew--that evening recounted to Franklthe words which he had heard.
* * * * * * *
One afternoon, two weeks later, Loveday, the author, was leaning upona stile, talking to Margaret Hogarth; and he said: "I love you! If youcould _deign_--"
"Truth is," she said, "you are in love with my brother, Dick, and youthink it is me!"
She was a woman of twenty-five, large and buxom, though neat-waisted,her face beautifully fresh and wholesome, and he of middle-size, with alazy ease of carriage, small eyes set far apart, a blue-velvet jacket,duck trousers very dirty, held up by a belt, a red shirt, an old clothhat, a careless carle, greatly famed.
"But it isn't of your brother, but of _you_, that I am wanting to speak!Tell me--"
"No--I can't. I am a frivolous old woman to be talking to you aboutsuch things at all! But, since it is as you say, wait, perhaps I may beable--But I must be going now--"
There was embarrassment in her now: and suddenly she walked away, goingto meet--another man.
She passed through stubble-wheat, disappeared in a pine-wood, and cameout upon the Waveney towing-path. On the towing-path came Frankl to meether.
He took her hand, holding his head sideward with a cajoling fondness,wearing the flowing caftan, and a velvet cap which widened out a-top,with puckers.
"Well, sweetheart..." he said.
"But, you know, I begged you not to use such words to me!"--from her.
"What, and I who am such a sweetheart of yours?"--his speech veryforeign, yet slangily correct, being, in fact, _all_ slang.
"No," she said, "you spoke different at first, and that is why--But thismust be the last, unless you say out clearly now what it is you mean--"
"Now, you are too hard. You know I am wild in love with you. And so areyou with me--"
"_I_?"--with shrinking modesty in her under-looking eyes. "Oh, no--don'thave any delusions like that about me, please! You said that you likedme: and as I am in the habit of speaking the truth myself, I thoughtthat--perhaps--But my meeting you, to be frank with you, was for thesake of my brother".
"Well, you are as candid as they make them," he said, eyeing her withhis mild eye. "But what's the matter with your brother? Hard up?"
"He's worried about something". "He must have some harvest-money putaway?"
"He has something in Reid's Bank at Yarmouth, I believe".
"Well, shall I tell you what's the matter with him? He's _afraid_, yourbrother. He has refused to wear the cap, and he thinks that I shall bedown upon him like a thousand of bricks...But suppose I exempt him, andyou and I be friends? That's fair".
"What _do_ you mean?"
"Give us _one_--"
"Believe me, you talk--!"
"Don't let your angry passions rise. I am going to have a kiss off thosehandsome lips--"
Before she could stir he was in the act of the embrace; but it was neveraccomplished: for he saw her colour fade, heard crackling twigs, a step!as someone emerged from the wood ten yards away--Richard.
The thought in Margaret's mind was this: "Father in Heaven, whateverwill he think of me here with this Jew?"
Hogarth stopped, staring at this couple; did not understand: Margaretshould have been home from "class-meeting"...only, he observed herheaving bosom; then twisted about and went, his walk rapid, in his handa hunting-crop, by which, with a very sure aim, he batted away pebblesfrom his path, stooping each time.
