On Harry Noke, who still lay wincing and watching in the grass, the effect of this interruption was dynamic. An old and disregarded memory began stammering in his mind, and a forgotten woman sprang into life. Seth Shellett, the lad had said. For an instant he became deaf and blind to his surroundings, and thoughts crowded intimately upon him. Tisha Bailey’s son, Seth Shellett. He struggled into a sitting posture, and called upon his daughter in a new voice.
‘Lookeehere, Seth Shellett,’ repeated the youngest son, disregarding his father’s outcry. ‘I baint frouden of you. And I daun’t mean ee no harm. ‘If you ’tend right by Cis, we can call cousins together, me and you. But I baint frouden of you, so you maun’t think ut.’
Seth, in a quick glance (for he dared not trust a fellow that dared not trust him), saw, standing five yards behind him, the youth from whom these bold ingenuous words proceeded. Slim and slight, a mere boy, he stood bravely, with his shovel held firmly in both hands ready for battle. His features were indistinguishable in the dim light, but his general aspect, no less than his speech, was heartening.
‘Good boy!’ said Seth. ‘That be talken sense, I’ll ’low.’ He lowered his own weapon and moved sideways towards this unexpected ally. When he came near the boy, and could see his young stern face, he felt a quick friendliness stir in him and was moved to speak his heart. ‘I ’tend right by her, boy. Gogzoons I do. I be gwain marry her, tellee. We’ll have a laamentable pretty cottage to live in, and all manner.’
‘Then you’d best take she away drackly-minute,’ answered the youngest son, friend to friend. ‘Father’ll kill un if he gets un home.’
‘Ay,’ said Seth, in low urgent tones. ‘And you too, haply. Come away along o’ me and I’ll hide the both of ye.’
The boy’s eyes lit with pleasure, but there was no more chance of talk; for now Noke called again upon his daughter, and with such urgency, in a tone that seemed so innocent of menace, that Charity at last came out of hiding. During the past few minutes she had suffered a hundred pains of fear, indecision, and divided loyalty. She had seen her father and two brothers struck down, and, though at first she had welcomed it, the sight terrified her. She was distraught, and drawn by a revulsion of feeling, a flood of childish associations, towards her own men: especially towards the man who had fathered and sheltered her. Yet even now she exulted in the possession of Seth, and could not bear to think him lost to her. In the violence of this conflict within her, this bewildering riot of irreconcilables, she all but lost sense of the secret she dreaded to hear told. She came slowly back, with sulky drooping head, to where her father awaited her. And at sight of her, the young brother sprang forward and placed himself protectively at her side.
‘Ah!’ said Harry Noke. With difficulty and pain he at last struggled to his feet. But his ankle failed him and he staggered, and the boy jumped forward to his support. ‘That’s right, sonny. Gimme y’r shoulder. Now, Charity Noke. What be atwixt you and Seth Shellett then? Tell me that.’ The girl did not answer. ‘Hi, Shellett, come you here. We maun get this straight.’
They stood in a group together: the lovers and their father.
‘What be atwixt you and y’r sister then, hey?’
Seth scowled uncomprehendingly. ‘Sister! I daun’t rightly unnerstand you, Mus Noke.’
‘Oh, dauntee?’ said Noke. ‘Well, hearkee here. What be atwixt you and my darter Charity?’
‘Us wanta get married, Mus Noke. That be all.’
Noke eyed him with shrewd hatred. ‘Have ye got her with child then?’
Seth glanced at the woman; then at his questioner; then at the ground. ‘I dunnaw,’ said he. ‘But we’ll wed, whether or no.’
The question was answered. In Noke the storm gathered, shook him body and mind, and found vent at last in a peal of angry laughter. Grinning and roaring, he stared at his new-found son, with love and hate, pride and shame, blazing out of his eyes. Oaths came tumbling with his laughter, and hate rose ascendant. This fellow and his daughter! Murderous jealousy woke again from its uneasy slumber, and now there was new venom in its sting. But with a mighty effort, perhaps the mightiest he had ever made, he controlled his fury that he might say, quietly, and so with the more deadly effect:
‘You be Tisha Bailey’s son, I’ll ’low?’
‘Ay. Tisha Shellett’s son.’
‘She were Tisha Bailey right enough when I got ye. How do, son?’
Seth stared at him in discomfort, thinking him crazy.
‘D’ye hear me?’ cried Noke. ‘Twas I that fathered ye, I’m saying. And this sly slut’s y’r sister. Likes to keep her courten in the family, I rackon.’
Seth found his tongue. ‘That be a countable stupid tale, Mus Noke.’
‘Ha! You daun’t believe me, hey? Then ask this pretty punk o’ yourn. She’ll tell ee.’
‘Tis true enough, Shellett,’ said one of the brothers. ‘Them’s bin maken a gurt fool of ye if ye dunnaw that.’