The Master of Liversedge by Alice Chetwynd Ley Read Free Book Online Page B

influence you may possess over him. Try to show him something of my ultimate purpose; tell him he’ll do better to educate the croppers in the notion that these machines will one day bring real prosperity to the West Riding.’
    ‘You have not spoken to him yourself, sir?’ she asked, hesitantly.
    ‘Until today, I never took his activities seriously,’ he replied, frowning. ‘Well, perhaps that was my error.’ He broke off, and looked her over appraisingly; without offence, but in a way which brought a faint blush to her cheek. ‘I imagine he will yield to your persuasions more readily than to mine — in any event, I should most likely lose my temper with him. See what you can do.’
    ‘I will certainly try, though I don’t know yet that he is in any way to blame,’ Mary said, slightly on the defensive.
    ‘I have no wish,’ replied Arkwright, in a downright tone, ‘to cause any distress to your uncle. He’s a good man, innocent in worldly affairs, and your cousin’s his only child. But if I find that young Jackstraw meddling in dangerous matters I may need to take serious steps to restrain him. And I shall — make no mistake about that.’ His clenched fist came down upon the desk decisively. ‘For I mean to weed them out, root and branch, every damned Luddite of them all — I swear it.’
    She was silent. After a moment, he rose, and pulled a frayed bell-rope that hung by the chimney-piece.
    ‘If you find my language somewhat forceful,’ he said, ‘you must realize that the occasion warrants it. I am going to send you home to your uncle now: the carriage will be waiting for you at the door in ten minutes, if you can be ready.’
     

 
    FIVE: THE MARCHERS
     
    Mary awoke with a start. Her whole body was tense, though her mind was still drugged by sleep. There had been something unpleasant in a dream — she had been frightened by the sound of tramping feet …
    Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in bed. It had not been a dream, after all. Now she could hear the marchers quite plainly; they were advancing with steady, measured tread along the rough road that ran past the Vicarage. How many of them there might be, she could not guess; but they marched purposefully, relentlessly, as though they would never stop until everything that stood in their path had been crushed and trampled underfoot.
    She shivered violently, then leapt out of bed. Her fingers groped around the unfamiliar bedside table until she found a tinder box, and was able to light her candle. Reaching for her dressing gown, she fastened it securely about her, and pushed her feet into the light sandals which she had worn earlier that evening.
    The marching feet had drawn closer now; they must be passing the Vicarage. She moved across to the window, and, lifting the curtain a little, peered out. The wall surrounding the Vicarage was not as high as a man; she ought to be able to see the heads of the marchers above it.
    To her chagrin, she found she could see nothing. After a moment, she pulled back the curtains, and, easing back the catch, quietly raised the window. Then she leaned out, a plait of warm brown hair swinging about her neck as she peered intently into the darkness.
    A flurry of snow touched her face, and the icy air made her flinch. Gradually, shapes emerged out of the gloom. She could just discern the outlines of the tall elms which stood at intervals along the wall; behind them, shadows moved rhythmically to the beat of pounding feet. It was the marchers.
    At once she drew back her head, and without stopping to close the window, hurriedly pulled the curtains across it. For a few moments she stood there, motionless, her heart beating unnaturally fast. How could she have been so reckless as to risk being seen by these men, whoever they were? After her recent terrifying experience, she was ready to believe that at any moment they might come pounding on the door of the Vicarage.
    She almost jumped out of her skin as a low knock sounded