A man possessed of a desire to get to a
particular spot not favoured by Jane, or by a wish to reach any spot
by a certain hour, - I can understand how such a man, carried away by
helpless wrath, might possibly ruffle Jane's sad-coloured hair with
the toe of his boot.
Jane is small, yet mighty. She is multum in parvo; she is the rock
of Gibraltar in animate form; she is cosmic obstinacy on four legs.
When following out the devices and desires of her own heart, or
resisting the devices and desires of yours, she can put a pressure
of five hundred tons on the bit. She is further fortified by the
possession of legs which have iron rods concealed in them, these
iron rods terminating in stout grip-hooks, with which she takes hold
on mother earth with an expression that seems to say,-
'This rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.'
When I start out in the afternoon, Mrs. Bobby frequently asks me
where I am going. I always answer that I have not made up my mind,
though what I really mean to say is that Jane has not made up her
mind. She never makes up her mind until after I have made up mine,
lest by some unhappy accident she might choose the very excursion
that I desire myself.
Chapter XXI. I remember, I remember.
For example, I wish to visit St. Bridget's Well, concerning which
there are some quaint old verses in a village history:-
'Out of thy famous hille,
There daylie springyeth,
A water passynge stille,
That alwayes bringyeth
Grete comfort to all them
That are diseased men,
And makes them well again
To prayse the Lord.
'Hast thou a wound to heale,
The wyche doth greve thee;
Come thenn unto this welle;
It will relieve thee;
Nolie me tangeries,
And other maladies,
Have there theyr remedies,
Prays'd be the Lord.'
St. Bridget's Well is a beautiful spot, and my desire to see it is a
perfectly laudable one. In strict justice, it is really no concern
of Jane whether my wishes are laudable or not; but it only makes the
case more flagrant when she interferes with the reasonable plans of
a reasonable being. Never since the day we first met have I
harboured a thought that I wished to conceal from Jane (would that
she could say as much!); nevertheless she treats me as if I were a
monster of caprice. As I said before, I wish to visit St. Bridget's
Well, but Jane absolutely refuses to take me there. After we pass
Belvern churchyard we approach two roads: the one to the right
leads to the Holy Well; the one to the left leads to Shady Dell
Farm, where Jane lived when she was a girl.
