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344 pages

English

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Take a trip back in time to nineteenth-century Yorkshire in this emotionally engaging tale from British author R.D. Blackmore. Mary Anerley follows the life of the protagonist of the same name as she faces down the challenges of coming of age in an isolated rural environment.

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 septembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775454892
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

MARY ANERLEY
A YORKSHIRE TALE
* * *
R. D. BLACKMORE

*
Mary Anerley A Yorkshire Tale First published in 1880 ISBN 978-1-77545-489-2 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Headstrong and Headlong Chapter II - Scargate Hall Chapter III - A Disappointing Appointment Chapter IV - Disquietude Chapter V - Decision Chapter VI - Anerley Farm Chapter VII - A Dane in the Dike Chapter VIII - Captain Carroway Chapter IX - Robin Cockscroft Chapter X - Robin Lyth Chapter XI - Dr. Upandown Chapter XII - In a Lane, Not Alone Chapter XIII - Grumbling and Growling Chapter XIV - Serious Charges Chapter XV - Caught at Last Chapter XVI - Discipline Asserted Chapter XVII - Delicate Inquiries Chapter XVIII - Goyle Bay Chapter XIX - A Farm to Let Chapter XX - An Old Soldier Chapter XXI - Jack and Jill Go Down the Gill Chapter XXII - Young Gilly Flowers Chapter XXIII - Love Militant Chapter XXIV - Love Penitent Chapter XXV - Down Among the Dead Weeds Chapter XXVI - Men of Solid Timber Chapter XXVII - The Proper Way to Argue Chapter XXVIII - Farewell, Wife and Children Dear Chapter XXIX - Tactics of Defense Chapter XXX - Inland Opinion Chapter XXXI - Tactics of Attack Chapter XXXII - Cordial Enjoyment Chapter XXXIII - Bearded in His Den Chapter XXXIV - The Dovecote Chapter XXXV - Little Carroways Chapter XXXVI - Maids and Mermaids Chapter XXXVII - Fact, or Factor Chapter XXXVIII - The Demon of the Axe Chapter XXXIX - Battery and Assumpsit Chapter XL - Stormy Gap Chapter XLI - Bat of the Gill Chapter XLII - A Clew of Buttons Chapter XLIII - A Pleasant Interview Chapter XLIV - The Way of the World Chapter XLV - The Thing is Just Chapter XLVI - Stumped Out Chapter XLVII - A Tangle of Veins Chapter XLVIII - Short Sighs, and Long Ones Chapter XLIX - A Bold Angler Chapter L - Princely Treatment Chapter LI - Stand and Deliver Chapter LII - The Scarfe Chapter LIII - Buts Rebutted Chapter LIV - True Love Chapter LV - Nicholas the Fish Chapter LVI - In the Thick of It Chapter LVII - Mary Lyth
Chapter I - Headstrong and Headlong
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Far from any house or hut, in the depth of dreary moor-land, a road,unfenced and almost unformed, descends to a rapid river. The crossing iscalled the "Seven Corpse Ford," because a large party of farmers, ridinghomeward from Middleton, banded together and perhaps well primed throughfear of a famous highwayman, came down to this place on a foggy evening,after heavy rain-fall. One of the company set before them what the powerof the water was, but they laughed at him and spurred into it, and onealone spurred out of it. Whether taken with fright, or with too muchcourage, they laid hold of one another, and seven out of eight of them,all large farmers, and thoroughly understanding land, came never upon italive again; and their bodies, being found upon the ridge that cast themup, gave a dismal name to a place that never was merry in the best ofweather.
However, worse things than this had happened; and the country is notchary of its living, though apt to be scared of its dead; and so theford came into use again, with a little attempt at improvement. Forthose farmers being beyond recall, and their families hard toprovide for, Richard Yordas, of Scargate Hall, the chief owner of theneighborhood, set a long heavy stone up on either brink, and stretcheda strong chain between them, not only to mark out the course of theshallow, whose shelf is askew to the channel, but also that any onebeing washed away might fetch up, and feel how to save himself. For theTees is a violent water sometimes, and the safest way to cross it is togo on till you come to a good stone bridge.
Now forty years after that sad destruction of brave but not well-guidedmen, and thirty years after the chain was fixed, that their sons mightnot go after them, another thing happened at "Seven Corpse Ford," worsethan the drowning of the farmers. Or, at any rate, it made more stir(which is of wider spread than sorrow), because of the eminence of theman, and the length and width of his property. Neither could any one atfirst believe in so quiet an end to so turbulent a course. Neverthelessit came to pass, as lightly as if he were a reed or a bubble of theriver that belonged to him.
It was upon a gentle evening, a few days after Michaelmas of 1777. Noflood was in the river then, and no fog on the moor-land, only the usualcourse of time, keeping the silent company of stars. The young moon wasdown, and the hover of the sky (in doubt of various lights) was gone,and the equal spread of obscurity soothed the eyes of any reasonableman.
But the man who rode down to the river that night had little love ofreason. Headstrong chief of a headlong race, no will must depart ahair's-breadth from his; and fifty years of arrogant port had stiffeneda neck too stiff at birth. Even now in the dim light his large squareform stood out against the sky like a cromlech, and his heavy arms swunglike gnarled boughs of oak, for a storm of wrath was moving him. Inhis youth he had rebelled against his father; and now his own son was arebel to him.
"Good, my boy, good!" he said, within his grizzled beard, while his eyesshone with fire, like the flints beneath his horse; "you have had yourown way, have you, then? But never shall you step upon an acre ofyour own, and your timber shall be the gallows. Done, my boy, once andforever."
Philip, the squire, the son of Richard, and father of Duncan Yordas,with fierce satisfaction struck the bosom of his heavy Bradfordriding-coat, and the crackle of parchment replied to the blow, whilewith the other hand he drew rein on the brink of the Tees slidingrapidly.
The water was dark with the twinkle of the stars, and wide with thevapor of the valley, but Philip Yordas in the rage of triumph laughedand spurred his reflecting horse.
"Fool!" he cried, without an oath—no Yordas ever used an oath except inplayful moments—"fool! what fear you? There hangs my respected father'schain. Ah, he was something like a man! Had I ever dared to flout himso, he would have hanged me with it."
Wild with his wrong, he struck the rowel deep into the flank of hiswading horse, and in scorn of the depth drove him up the river. Theshoulders of the swimming horse broke the swirling water, as he pantedand snorted against it; and if Philip Yordas had drawn back at once, hemight even now have crossed safely. But the fury of his blood was up,the stronger the torrent the fiercer his will, and the fight betweenpassion and power went on. The poor horse was fain to swerve back atlast; but he struck him on the head with a carbine, and shouted to thetorrent:
"Drown me, if you can. My father used to say that I was never bornto drown. My own water drown me! That would be a little too muchinsolence."
"Too much insolence" were his last words. The strength of the horse wasexhausted. The beat of his legs grew short and faint, the white of hiseyes rolled piteously, and the gurgle of his breath subsided. Hisheavy head dropped under water, and his sodden crest rolled over, likesea-weed where a wave breaks. The stream had him all at its mercy, andshowed no more than his savage master had, but swept him a wallowinglump away, and over the reef of the crossing. With both feet locked inthe twisted stirrups, and right arm broken at the elbow, the riderwas swung (like the mast of a wreck) and flung with his head upon hisfather's chain. There he was held by his great square chin—for thejar of his backbone stunned him—and the weight of the swept-away horsebroke the neck which never had been known to bend. In the morning apeasant found him there, not drowned but hanged, with eyes wide open, aswaying corpse upon a creaking chain. So his father (though long in thegrave) was his death, as he often had promised to be to him; while he(with the habit of his race) clutched fast with dead hand on dead bosomthe instrument securing the starvation of his son.
Of the Yordas family truly was it said that the will of God was nothingto their will—as long as the latter lasted—and that every man of themscorned all Testament, old or new, except his own.
Chapter II - Scargate Hall
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Nearly twenty-four years had passed since Philip Yordas was carried tohis last (as well as his first) repose, and Scargate Hall had enjoyedsome rest from the turbulence of owners. For as soon as Duncan (Philip'sson, whose marriage had maddened his father) was clearly apprised by thelate squire's lawyer of his disinheritance, he collected his own littlemoney and his wife's, and set sail for India. His mother, a Scotchwomanof good birth but evil fortunes, had left him something; and hisbride (the daughter of his father's greatest foe) was not altogetherempty-handed. His sisters were forbidden by the will to help him witha single penny; and Philippa, the elder, declaring and believing thatDuncan had killed her father, strictly obeyed the injunction. But Eliza,being of a softer kind, and herself then in love with Captain Carnaby,would gladly have aided her only brother, but for his stern refusal. Insuch a case, a more gentle nature than ever endowed a Yordas mighthave grown hardened and bitter; and Duncan, being of true Yordas fibre(thickened and toughened with slower Scotch sap), was not of the sort tobe ousted lightly and grow at the feet of his supplanters.
Therefore he cast himself on the winds, in search of fairer soil, andwas not heard of in his native land; and