The Dead Alive | Page 6

least have assumed,
some little hesitation at replying to my question. Naomi did not hesitate
for an instant.
"You are quite right, sir," she said with the most perfect composure. "If
things go well, I mean to marry Ambrose."
"If things go well," I repeated. "What does that mean? Money?"
She shook her head.
"It means a fear that I have in my own mind," she answered--"a fear,
Mr. Lefrank, of matters taking a bad turn among the men here--the
wicked, hard-hearted, unfeeling men. I don't mean Ambrose, sir; I
mean his brother Silas, and John Jago. Did you notice Silas's hand?
John Jago did that, sir, with a knife."
"By accident?" I asked.
"On purpose," she answered. "In return for a blow."
This plain revelation of the state of things at Morwick Farm rather
staggered me--blows and knives under the rich and respectable
roof-tree of old Mr. Meadowcroft--blows and knives, not among the
laborers, but among the masters! My first impression was like your first
impression, no doubt. I could hardly believe it.
"Are you sure of what you say?" I inquired.

"I have it from Ambrose. Ambrose would never deceive me. Ambrose
knows all about it."
My curiosity was powerfully excited. To what sort of household had I
rashly voyaged across the ocean in search of rest and quiet?
"May I know all about it too?" I said.
"Well, I will try and tell you what Ambrose told me. But you must
promise me one thing first, sir. Promise you won't go away and leave
us when you know the whole truth. Shake hands on it, Mr. Lefrank;
come, shake hands on it."
There was no resisting her fearless frankness. I shook hands on it.
Naomi entered on her narrative the moment I had given her my pledge,
without wasting a word by way of preface.
"When you are shown over the farm here," she began, "you will see
that it is really two farms in one. On this side of it, as we look from
under this tree, they raise crops: on the other side--on much the larger
half of the land, mind--they raise cattle. When Mr. Meadowcroft got
too old and too sick to look after his farm himself, the boys (I mean
Ambrose and Silas) divided the work between them. Ambrose looked
after the crops, and Silas after the cattle. Things didn't go well,
somehow, under their management. I can't tell you why. I am only sure
Ambrose was not in fault. The old man got more and more dissatisfied,
especially about his beasts. His pride is in his beasts. Without saying a
word to the boys, he looked about privately (I think he was wrong in
that, sir; don't you?)--he looked about privately for help; and, in an evil
hour, he heard of John Jago. Do you like John Jago, Mr. Lefrank?"
"So far, no. I don't like him."
"Just my sentiments, sir. But I don't know: it's likely we may be wrong.
There's nothing against John Jago, except that he is so odd in his ways.
They do say he wears all that nasty hair on his face (I hate hair on a
man's face) on account of a vow he made when he lost his wife. Don't
you think, Mr. Lefrank, a man must be a little mad who shows his grief

at losing his wife by vowing that he will never shave himself again?
Well, that's what they do say John Jago vowed. Perhaps it's a lie.
People are such liars here! Anyway, it's truth (the boys themselves
confess that), when John came to the farm, he came with a first-rate
character. The old father here isn't easy to please; and he pleased the
old father. Yes, that's so. Mr. Meadowcroft don't like my countrymen in
general. He's like his sons--English, bitter English, to the marrow of his
bones. Somehow, in spite of that, John Jago got round him; maybe
because John does certainly know his business. Oh yes! Cattle and
crops, John knows his business. Since he's been overlooker, things have
prospered as they didn't prosper in the time of the boys. Ambrose
owned as much to me himself. Still, sir, it's hard to be set aside for a
stranger; isn't it? John gives the orders now. The boys do their work;
but they have no voice in it when John and the old man put their heads
together over the business of the farm. I have been long in telling you
of it, sir, but now you know how the envy and the hatred grew among
the men before my time. Since I have been here, things seem to get
worse and worse. There's hardly a day goes by that hard words don't
pass between the boys and John, or the