The Lord of the Sea | Page 2

he had already resolved to possess Westring Vale, and was saying to himself: "Within six months the value of English land should be--doubled".
The bargain was soon made now: and within one week the foresight of Frankl began to be justified.
Austria, during those days, was a nation of vengeful hearts: for the Jews had acquired half its land, and had mortgages on the other half: peasant, therefore, and nobleman flamed alike. And this fury was contagious: now Germany--now France had it--Anti-Semite laws-- like the old May-Laws--but harsher still; and streaming they came, from the Leopoldstadt, from Bukowina, from the Sixteen Provinces, from all Galicia, from the Nicolas Colonies, from Lisbon, with wandering foot and weary breast--the Heines, Cohens, Oppenheimers-- Sephardim, Aschkenasim. And Dover was the new Elim.
With alarm Britain saw them come! but before she could do anything, the wave had overflowed it; and by the time it was finished there was no desire to do anything: for within eight months such a tide of prosperity was floating England as has hardly been known in a country.
The reason of this was the increased number of hands--each making more things than its owner could consume himself, and so making every other richer.
There came, however, a change--almost suddenly--due to the new demand for land, the "owners" determining to await still further rises, before letting. This checked industry: for now people, debarred from the land, had only air.
In Westring Vale, as everywhere, times were hard. It was now the property of Baruch Frankl: for at the first failure of Lord Westring to meet terms, Frankl had struck.
Now, one of the yeomen of Westring was a certain Richard Hogarth.
II
THE FEZ
Frankl took up residence at Westring in September, and by November every ale-house, market, and hiring in Westring had become a scene of discussion.
The cause was this: Frankl had sent out to his tenants a Circular containing the words:
"...tenants to use for wear in the Vale a fez with tassel as the Livery of the Manor...the will of the Lord of the Manor...no exception..."
But though intense, the excitement was not loud: for want was in many a home; though after three weeks there were still six farmers who resisted.
And it happened one day that five of these at the Martinmas "Mop," or hiring, were discussing the matter, when they spied the sixth boring his way, and one exclaimed: "Yonder goes Hogarth! Let's hear what he's got to say!" and set to calling.
Hogarth twisted, and came winning his way, taller than the crowd, with "What's up? Hullo, Clinton--not a moment to spare to-day--"
"We were a-talking about that Circular--!" cried one.
At that moment two other men joined the group: one a dark-skinned Jew of the Moghrab?m; the other a young man--an English author--on tour. And these two heard what passed.
Hogarth stood suspended, finding no words, till one cried: "Do you mean to put the cap on?"
He laughed a little now. "I! The whip! The whip!"--he showed his hunting-crop, and was gone.
His manner of speech was rapid, and he had a hoarse sort of voice, almost as of sore-throat.
Of the two not farmers, one--the author--enquired as to his name, and farm; the other man--the Moghrab?m Jew-that evening recounted to Frankl the words which he had heard.

One afternoon, two weeks later, Loveday, the author, was leaning upon a stile, talking to Margaret Hogarth; and he said: "I love you! If you could deign--"
"Truth is," she said, "you are in love with my brother, Dick, and you think it is me!"
She was a woman of twenty-five, large and buxom, though neatwaisted, her face beautifully fresh and wholesome, and he of middlesize, with a lazy ease of carriage, small eyes set far apart, a?blue-velvet jacket, duck trousers very dirty, held up by a belt, a red shirt, an old cloth hat, a careless carle, greatly famed.
"But it isn't of your brother, but of you, that I am wanting to speak! Tell me--"
"No--I can't. I am a frivolous old woman to be talking to you about such things at all! But, since it is as you say, wait, perhaps I may be able--But I must be going now--"
There was embarrassment in her now: and suddenly she walked away, going to meet--another man.
She passed through stubble-wheat, disappeared in a pine-wood, and came out upon the Waveney towing-path. On the towing-path came Frankl to meet her.
He took her hand, holding his head sideward with a cajoling fondness, wearing the flowing caftan, and a velvet cap which widened out a-top, with puckers.
"Well, sweetheart..." he said.
"But, you know, I begged you not to use such words to me!"--from her.
"What, and I who am such a sweetheart of yours?"--his speech very foreign, yet slangily correct, being, in fact, all slang.
"No," she said, "you spoke different at first, and that is why--But this must be the last, unless you