Brother Jacob | Page 8

George Eliot
piece of string to his thumb and great
toe, to secure his frequent waking; for he meant to be up with the first
peep of dawn, and be far out of reach before breakfast-time. His father,

he thought, would certainly cut him off with a shilling; but what then?
Such a striking young man as he would be sure to be well received in
the West Indies: in foreign countries there are always openings--even
for cats. It was probable that some Princess Yarico would want him to
marry her, and make him presents of very large jewels beforehand;
after which, he needn't marry her unless he liked. David had made up
his mind not to steal any more, even from people who were fond of him:
it was an unpleasant way of making your fortune in a world where you
were likely to surprised in the act by brothers. Such alarms did not
agree with David's constitution, and he had felt so much nausea this
evening that no doubt his liver was affected. Besides, he would have
been greatly hurt not to be thought well of in the world: he always
meant to make a figure, and be thought worthy of the best seats and the
best morsels.
Ruminating to this effect on the brilliant future in reserve for him,
David by the help of his check-string kept himself on the alert to seize
the time of earliest dawn for his rising and departure. His brothers, of
course, were early risers, but he should anticipate them by at least an
hour and a half, and the little room which he had to himself as only an
occasional visitor, had its window over the horse-block, so that he
could slip out through the window without the least difficulty. Jacob,
the horrible Jacob, had an awkward trick of getting up before
everybody else, to stem his hunger by emptying the milk-bowl that was
"duly set" for him; but of late he had taken to sleeping in the hay-loft,
and if he came into the house, it would be on the opposite side to that
from which David was making his exit. There was no need to think of
Jacob; yet David was liberal enough to bestow a curse on him--it was
the only thing he ever did bestow gratuitously. His small bundle of
clothes was ready packed, and he was soon treading lightly on the steps
of the horse-block, soon walking at a smart pace across the fields
towards the thicket. It would take him no more than two minutes to get
out the box; he could make out the tree it was under by the pale strip
where the bark was off, although the dawning light was rather dimmer
in the thicket. But what, in the name of--burnt pastry--was that large
body with a staff planted beside it, close at the foot of the ash-tree?
David paused, not to make up his mind as to the nature of the

apparition--he had not the happiness of doubting for a moment that the
staff was Jacob's pitchfork--but to gather the self-command necessary
for addressing his brother with a sufficiently honeyed accent. Jacob was
absorbed in scratching up the earth, and had not heard David's
approach.
"I say, Jacob," said David in a loud whisper, just as the tin box was
lifted out of the hole.
Jacob looked up, and discerning his sweet-flavoured brother, nodded
and grinned in the dim light in a way that made him seem to David like
a triumphant demon. If he had been of an impetuous disposition, he
would have snatched the pitchfork from the ground and impaled this
fraternal demon. But David was by no means impetuous; he was a
young man greatly given to calculate consequences, a habit which has
been held to be the foundation of virtue. But somehow it had not
precisely that effect in David: he calculated whether an action would
harm himself, or whether it would only harm other people. In the
former case he was very timid about satisfying his immediate desires,
but in the latter he would risk the result with much courage.
"Give it me, Jacob," he said, stooping down and patting his brother.
"Let us see."
Jacob, finding the lid rather tight, gave the box to his brother in perfect
faith. David raised the lids and shook his head, while Jacob put his
finger in and took out a guinea to taste whether the metamorphosis into
lozenges was complete and satisfactory.
"No, Jacob; too soon, too soon," said David, when the guinea had been
tasted. "Give it me; we'll go and bury it somewhere else; we'll put it in
yonder," he added, pointing vaguely toward the distance.
David screwed on the lid, while Jacob, looking grave, rose and grasped
his pitchfork.
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