Noke had settled himself snugly at the bottom of the valley, within sight and hearing of a stream. Hills sheltered him on three sides from the worst of the wind’s violence; and the trees and scrub immediately surrounding him afforded a nearer shelter. The whole region formed a great natural bowl, broken only on its southern sector by a wedge of open sky. But though the hurricane rushed past him high overhead, many a minor wind came moaning and swirling round the bottom of the bowl to work what havoc it could. Dank was a more dangerous foe, and the exile’s first task, after building his shanty, was to dike and drain the small terrace of land on which, following his own precedent, he had chosen to place it. February was a drear month, but the prospect of spring heartened him to endure its asperities. In the long evenings, when darkness drove him indoors, he thought often of his dog Roger. At nights the horse’s presence was something of a comfort, but the horse was not Roger. Pride forbade him to wish for a human companion. Already his hair was long and tangled, his face covered with black beard: he had forsaken mankind and was resolved to end his days in the wilderness. March came in like a lion, but his blood was still warm with anger and he went on fighting for his life. In April, despite the imminence of floods that might destroy all his work, he counted the battle won, and then a new ambition was born in him. He had kept alive, but that was not enough. He wanted to prove himself more than master. He wanted to grow rich and powerful. He had already-reclaimed and subdued an acre of this wilderness, but that was far from contenting him. With horse and wagon, and all the money he possessed, he went to Glatting City: a strange and rather sinister-looking man, and as different as can be imagined from the shy, blarneying, soft-speaking young fellow who had come to Marden Fee five years before. He asked many questions and answered none, or answered only with lies; and before nightfall he was back at his clearing, and grimly satisfied with the day’s work, for he had acquired, partly by simple theft and partly by purchase, a horse-plough, a hoe, a scythe, a bushel or two of seed potatoes, wheat and barley for sowing, and a pair of household scissors. Among these articles there was enough stolen property to hang him ten times over, five shillings being the degree in theft at which a thief’s life became forfeit to the law. But this did not dismay him: it was a small necessary risk and he took it in his stride.
It was about a week later, just as dusk was falling, that he saw, for the first time, a human creature wandering across his kingdom. His first impulse was to shoot; his second, more sober, was to hide himself. But, the figure coming nearer, he recognized it for a woman’s, and conflict began raging in his bosom. Was this his chance of vengeance? He stepped from his shelter and strode forward, empty-handed. The woman saw him, threw up her arms, and screamed. She began running, but he was with her in a moment and had seized her. She screamed again.
‘Eh, Jenny Mykelborne. What be you a-doen these parts?’ His voice was cruel.
She became limp and quiet in his arms. He released her contemptuously, and she fell to staring at him.
‘I din knaw twas you, Harry, in that great beard. You look fair wild, you do.’
He regretted the beard; for he read in her eyes that by his neglect he had made himself an ill-favoured and terrifying spectacle; and, being resolved to hate her, for her part in his downfall, he was angry to be seen at a disadvantage. ‘Nemmind beards, my pigeon. What you doen these parts? Tis late for a good girl the likes of thee to be from home, bainta?’
‘I came seeken you, Harry Noke,’ she answered. And it was true. She had run away from sound of her scolding mother and from sight of her father’s reproachfulness. Being desperate, and because no other man would look at her, she was resolved to devote herself to Noke, could she but find him. And so, when a chance rumour came——
‘Howdee knaw I were here?’ demanded Noke suspiciously.
‘Folks said.’
He grunted, perplexed and angry. ‘And whad you want wi’ me?’ He eyed her pitilessly, taking note of her shape. To have turned her away would have been a hearty meal for that hungry pride in him. He played with the idea.
‘Be you liven here always, Harry? Tis a wild spot.’ She faced his question. ‘I get a middlin dish of tongues every minute of the day from Mother. And Father be always putten the eye on me. So I thought haply you’d let me rest along you. I could work for ee and all manner.’