The Soldier's Wife — page 127: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

must be to permit so vindictive a sentiment to|had arrived at Oakleigh harbor in his breast, she shuddered with a|lcarrier’s van from Mid recurrence of that vague misgiving which had|man—nearly six feet in stature, and bull already smitten her in respect to the future. |proportion. The letter was folded up and addressed: and|hair, of an iron gray, was short and eri Frederick sallied forth to take it to the post- office. Then Lucy hurried down st airs—fetched up her little son—and covered him with the most passionate kisses as she led him up to the ehainber. CHAPTER XXYV. MR. ROSSER. Ir was about a fortnight after our hero’s letter to the Postmaster-General had been despatched from Manchester, that Mr. Obadiah Bates re- paired at about nine o’clock in the evening to the Royal Oak. A long, long time had elapsed since he had joined the company in the parlor of that little hostelry, as he had been wont to do when first introduced to our readers. But on this particular evening Mr. Bates was seized with an unusual fit of boldness. Not that he was ever deficient in effrontery: but still he had not chosen voluntarily to encounter the eold and distant looks of his fellow-tradesmen of the. village. It may therefore be properly defined an access of more than his wonted impudence which induced him on this occasion to bend his way towards Bushell’s. Perlraps it was that he had taken an extra drop of spirits in his own dwelling on that particular evening: or perhaps it was because he had treated himself to a new suit of clothes, which ‘the village tailor had made for him; and he was not only desirous of showing them off, but he likewise fancied that the said tailor, who was sure to be at the Royal Oak, could not possibly give him the cold shoulder after the fulfilment of such an order. “ Besides,” said Bates to himself, as he walked along, “this ill-feeling towards me can’t last for ever: but how 1s it to be put a stop to, unless I do something to appease the minds of all these fellows? Here have I been regularly eut, as one may say—and I can’t bear it any longer. I will go up boldly to the Oak—take my four pennorth of gin and my screw of THE SOLDIER’S. WIFE. that evening by t dleton, He was a tal hia ed: and on the upper part of his forehead t ° was a long red seam evidently produced by a terrific wound, He was dressed in a black body-coat and waistcoat, drab breeches, anv top-boots. He had a heavy look: yet there were moments when his eyes wowd twinkle with an exceeding sharpness; and there was @ sort of pricking-up of the ears when any one began to speak after a pause in the discourse, This person who had given the name of Mr, Ilis age might be about, hy Rosser, was smoking his pipe, and doing ample. Justice to a quart-pot of Mr. Bushell’s excellent ale. “Well, Mr. Bates,” said the landlord, who always made it a rule to be civil to everybody, and never mixed himeelf up in the village quarrels,—“ you are quite a stranger amongst us. I am very glad ty see you.” “Thope others are tov,” replied the barber, glancing around upon the company: then taking his seat, he said, “‘ Landlord, order me four pennorth of gin—cold without—and a screw.” : The village tradesmen,— including Mr. Mum- mery the baker, concerning whose remittance to his brother-in-law at Carlis!e Mr. Bates t well nigh got himself into such rérious trou looked particularly cold and glum as the | ber made his appearance. Pond “hems” and short coughs were given —several significant looks were exchanged—and then divers faces were half buried in pewter mea- sures, as if to conceal or subdue emotions, Mr. Rosser likewise took a long draught from his own quart-pot, over the rim of which he eyed Mr. Bates very attentively, without however appearing to do so. . “What is that person?” whispered the bar- ber to old Bushell. | ‘ He is staying at the house: he came from Middleton this evening, and says he has got some business down in these parts. I don’t know what he is. He looks like a farmer— and yet he doesn’t, somehow or another.” “Well, he has an orkard cut over his fore- bakker—and see what they will say. A man|head, at all events,” said Bates, gliding back like me isn’t to be erushed. of their nonsense, perhaps I can drop a hint or|to question Mr. Bushell. If they have any/to his seat, which he had for a moment quitted “Now, gentlemen,” two about their private affairs that will rather/he continued, looking around upon the as astonish them; and if that don’t bring them over into a better humor, I’m sure I don’t know what the deuce will.” By the time he had finished this soliloquy, the Royal Oak was reached; and Mr, Bates, eticking his hat jauntily over his right ear, and eniffling to catch the fragrance of the exquisite bears’ grease (made from lard) whieh anointed his locks and whiskers, walked boldly into the little parlor. Several of the villuce tradesmen were assembled, drinking their ale and smoking their pipes; while old Bushell oeeupied his ngual seat at the chimney-corner; though there was no fire in the grate—for it was the month of April, and the Spring weather was mild. There waa also an ind sembled tradesmen, “ you needn’t seemso pre- cious distant: I hawn’t brought the plague with me—and I do think you have made a dead set against me quite long enough.” _ “Well, | do think Mr, Bates has been some what harshly treated,” said the village tailor’. then in a whisper to the individual who sat next to him, he added, “ Come, Beagley, don’t look so cold at him, I made him them clothes —and he paid me quite honorable.” — “You see, geptlemen,” resumed the barber, “vou tried to get a new hairdresser into the village about seven years ago: but you couldn't manage it. Nobody would come in opposition to me; and though some of you do go over te ividual, who, it appeared,! Middleton 0 get your hair cut, yet there’s a m » - (E(@) JOOKS.Ccor