The Woodlanders | Page 7

and he drew up a little closer beside her. "The lady is

very rich, and won't be particular to a few shillings; so I will advance to
this on my own responsibility--I'll make the one sovereign two, rather
than go back empty-handed."
"No, no, no!" she cried, beginning to be much agitated. "You are
a-tempting me, Mr. Percombe. You go on like the Devil to Dr. Faustus
in the penny book. But I don't want your money, and won't agree. Why
did you come? I said when you got me into your shop and urged me so
much, that I didn't mean to sell my hair!" The speaker was hot and
stern.
"Marty, now hearken. The lady that wants it wants it badly. And,
between you and me, you'd better let her have it. 'Twill be bad for you
if you don't."
"Bad for me? Who is she, then?"
The barber held his tongue, and the girl repeated the question.
"I am not at liberty to tell you. And as she is going abroad soon it
makes no difference who she is at all."
"She wants it to go abroad wi'?"
Percombe assented by a nod. The girl regarded him reflectively.
"Barber Percombe," she said, "I know who 'tis. 'Tis she at the
House--Mrs. Charmond!"
"That's my secret. However, if you agree to let me have it, I'll tell you
in confidence."
"I'll certainly not let you have it unless you tell me the truth. It is Mrs.
Charmond."
The barber dropped his voice. "Well--it is. You sat in front of her in
church the other day, and she noticed how exactly your hair matched
her own. Ever since then she's been hankering for it, and at last decided
to get it. As she won't wear it till she goes off abroad, she knows

nobody will recognize the change. I'm commissioned to get it for her,
and then it is to be made up. I shouldn't have vamped all these miles for
any less important employer. Now, mind--'tis as much as my business
with her is worth if it should be known that I've let out her name; but
honor between us two, Marty, and you'll say nothing that would injure
me?"
"I don't wish to tell upon her," said Marty, coolly. "But my hair is my
own, and I'm going to keep it."
"Now, that's not fair, after what I've told you," said the nettled barber.
"You see, Marty, as you are in the same parish, and in one of her
cottages, and your father is ill, and wouldn't like to turn out, it would be
as well to oblige her. I say that as a friend. But I won't press you to
make up your mind to-night. You'll be coming to market to-morrow, I
dare say, and you can call then. If you think it over you'll be inclined to
bring what I want, I know."
"I've nothing more to say," she answered.
Her companion saw from her manner that it was useless to urge her
further by speech. "As you are a trusty young woman," he said, "I'll put
these sovereigns up here for ornament, that you may see how handsome
they are. Bring the hair to-morrow, or return the sovereigns." He stuck
them edgewise into the frame of a small mantle looking-glass. "I hope
you'll bring it, for your sake and mine. I should have thought she could
have suited herself elsewhere; but as it's her fancy it must be indulged
if possible. If you cut it off yourself, mind how you do it so as to keep
all the locks one way." He showed her how this was to be done.
"But I sha'nt," she replied, with laconic indifference. "I value my looks
too much to spoil 'em. She wants my hair to get another lover with;
though if stories are true she's broke the heart of many a noble
gentleman already."
"Lord, it's wonderful how you guess things, Marty," said the barber.
"I've had it from them that know that there certainly is some foreign
gentleman in her eye. However, mind what I ask."

"She's not going to get him through me."
Percombe had retired as far as the door; he came back, planted his cane
on the coffin-stool, and looked her in the face. "Marty South," he said,
with deliberate emphasis, "YOU'VE GOT A LOVER YOURSELF, and
that's why you won't let it go!"
She reddened so intensely as to pass the mild blush that suffices to
heighten beauty; she put the yellow leather glove on one hand, took up
the hook with the other, and sat down doggedly to her work without
turning her face to him again. He regarded her head for a moment, went
to the door, and with one look back at