"Such were our orders from Mr. Leach," he said, in his quiet equable voice; "We's to be there to-morrow marnin' quarter afore six with ropes and axes."
"Ropes and axes shall not avail against the finger of the Lord, or the wrath of the Almighty!" said Josey Letherbarrow, suddenly coming out of his abstraction; "And if th' owld Squire were alive he wouldn't have had 'em touched--no, not he! He'd ha' starved sooner! And if the Five Sisters are laid low, the luck of the Manor will lay low with 'em! But it's not too late--not too late!"--and he turned his face, now alive in its every feature with strong emotion, to Maryllia--"Not too late if the Squire's little gel is still her father's pride and glory! And that's what I've come for to the Manor this night,--I ain't been inside the old 'ouse for this ten 'ear or more, but they's brought me,--me--old Josey,--stiff as I am, and failin' as I am, to see ye, my dear little gel, and ask ye for God's love to save the old trees wot 'as waved in the woodland free and wild for 'undreds o' years, and wot deserves more gratitude from Abbot's Manor than killin' for long service!"
He began to tremble with nervous excitement, and Maryllia put her hand soothingly on his arm.
"You must sit down, Josey," she said; "You will be so tired standing! Sit down and tell me all about it! What trees are you speaking of? And who is going to cut them down! You see I don't know anything about the place yet,--I've only just arrived--but if they are my trees, and you say my father would not have wished them to be cut down, they shan't be cut down!--be sure of that!"
Josey's eyes sparkled, and he waved his battered hat triumphantly.
"Didn't I tell ye?" he exclaimed, turning round upon Bainton; "Didn't I say as 'ow this was the way to do it?--and as 'ow the little gel wot I knew as a baby would listen to me when she wouldn't listen to no one else? An' as 'ow the Five Sisters would be spared? An' worn't I right! Worn't I true?"
Maryllia smiled.
"You really must sit down!" she said again, gently persuading him into his chair, wherein he sank heavily, like a stone, though his face shone with alertness and vigour. "Primmins!" and she addressed that functionary who had been standing in the background watching the little scene; "Bring some glasses of port wine." Primmins vanished to execute this order. "Now, you dear old man," continued Maryllia, drawing up an oaken settle close to Josey's knee and seating herself with a confidential air; "you must tell me just what you want me to do, and I will do it!"