Shirley

success in this mucky lump of a planet, he just reached down t' owd book (pointing to a great Bible in the bookcase), opened it like at a chance, and he was sure to light of a verse blazing wi' a blue brimstone low that set all straight. He knew,« he said, »where some folk war bound for, just as weel as if an angel, wi' great white wings, had come in ower t' door-stone and told him.«
    »Sir,« said Mr. Helstone, collecting all his dignity. »Sir – the great knowledge of man is to know himself, and the bourne whither his own steps tend.«
    »Ay, ay! you'll recollect, Mr. Helstone, that Ignorance was carried away from the very gates of heaven, borne through the air, and thrust in at a door in the side of the hill which led down to hell.«
    »Nor have I forgotten, Mr. Yorke, that Vain-Confidence, not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there made by the prince of the grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed to pieces with his fall.«
    »Now,« interposed Mr. Moore, who had hitherto sat a silent but amused spectator of this wordy combat, and whose indifference to the party politics of the day, as well as to the gossip of the neighbourhood, made him an impartial, if apathetic, judge of the merits of such an encounter – »you have both sufficiently black-balled each other, and proved how cordially you detest each other, and how wicked you think each other. For my part, my hate is still running in such a strong current against the fellows who have broken my frames, that I have none to spare for my private acquaintance, and still less for such a vague thing as a sect or a government: but really, gentlemen, you both seem very bad, by your own shewing; worse than ever I suspected you to be. I dare not stay all night with a rebel and blasphemer, like you, Yorke; and I hardly dare ride home with a cruel and tyrannical ecclesiastic, like Mr. Helstone.«
    »I am going, however, Mr. Moore;« said the Rector sternly: »come with me or not, as you please.«
    »Nay, he shall not have the choice – he
shall
go with you,« responded Yorke. »It's midnight, and past; and I'll have nob'dy staying up i' my house any longer. Ye mun all go.«
    He rang the bell.
    »Deb,« said he to the servant who answered it, »clear them folk out o' t' kitchen, and lock t' doors, and be off to bed. Here is your way, gentlemen,« he continued to his guests; and, lighting them through the passage, he fairly put them out at his front-door.
    They met their party hurrying out pell-mell by the back way; their horses stood at the gate; they mounted, and rode off – Moore laughing at their abrupt dismissal, Helstone deeply indignant thereat.
     

 
Chapter V
Hollow's Cottage
    Moore's good spirits were still with him when he rose next morning. He and Joe Scott had both spent the night in the mill, availing themselves of certain sleeping accommodations producible from recesses in the front and back counting-houses: the master, always an early riser, was up somewhat sooner even than usual; he awoke his man by singing a French song as he made his toilet.
    »Ye're not custen dahm, then, maister?« cried Joe.
    »Not a stiver, mon garçon – which means, my lad: – get up, and we'll take a turn through the mill before the hands come in, and I'll explain my future plans. We'll have the machinery yet, Joseph: you never heard of Bruce, perhaps?«
    »And th' arrand (spider)? Yes, but I hev: I've read th' history o' Scotland, and happen knaw as mich on't as ye; and I understand ye to mean to say ye'll persevere.«
    »I do.«
    »Is there mony o' your mak' i' your country?« inquired Joe, as he folded up his temporary bed, and put it away.
    »In my country! Which is my country?«
    »Why, France – isn't it?«
    »Not it, indeed! The circumstance of the French having seized Antwerp, where I was born, does not make me a Frenchman.«
    »Holland, then?«
    »I am not a Dutchman: now you are confounding Antwerp with Amsterdam.«
    »Flanders?«
    »I scorn the insinuation, Joe! I, a Flamand! Have I a Flemish face? – the clumsy nose standing out – the mean forehead falling back – the pale blue eyes ›à fleur de tête?‹ Am I all body and no legs, like a Flamand? But you don't know what they are like – those Netherlanders. Joe – I'm an Anversois: my mother was an Anversoise, though she came of French lineage, which is the reason I speak French.«
    »But your father war Yorkshire, which maks ye a bit Yorkshire