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"To Gaskarth the little lame fellow will make for the Carlisle coach once they're there?" "When was t'horse and car to be ready?" "Nine o'clock forenoon." "Then it's full time they were gitten roused." Mrs. Garth rose from the stool, hobbled to the door which had been previously indicated by sundry nods and jerks, and gave it two or three sharp raps.
"I don't know I don't know at all," he answered, as though eager to assert the truth of a statement never called into dispute. "Does he intend to come back to Fornside to-night, Sim?" "So he said." "What, think you, is his work at Gaskarth?" "I don't know I know nothing at least no, nothing." Ralph was sure now. Sim was too eager to disclaim all knowledge of his lodger's doings.
They condemned themselves to imprisonment within their own houses, or abandoned their visits to Gaskarth, or made a circuit of a mile across the breast of a hill, in order to avoid coming within range of the proscribed dwelling. After three days of rumor and surmise, there was not a soul in the district would go within fifty yards of the house that was believed to hold the pestilence.
Jim, the driver, came into the kitchen at that moment on his way to bed, and unravelled the mystery of the map by showing that it was possible for Robbie's friends to go off the Carlisle road towards Gaskarth and Wythburn at the village of Askham.
"Heaven bless us!" cried Mrs. Ray, "to kill a poor man for his week's wage!" And she sank back into the chair from which she had risen in her amazement. "They've taken his body to the Red Lion, and the coroner is there from Gaskarth." Willy was trembling in every limb. Ralph rose as one stupefied. He said nothing, but taking down his hat he went out.
The pack-horse pedler was their swiftest newsman; the pedler on foot was their weekly budget. Five miles along the pack-horse road to the north stood their market town of Gaskarth, where they took their wool or the cloth they had woven from it. From the top of Lauvellen they could see the white sails of the ships that floated down the broad Solway.
The arms were covered with the snow, and Ralph climbed on to the stone wall behind and brushed their letters clear. "To Kendal." That pointed in the direction from whence they came. "To Gaskarth." "That's our road," said Sim. "No," said Ralph; "this is it 'To Penrith and Carlisle." What chance remained now to Robbie?
"At Gaskarth it's market day he took the last shearing." He spoke like one in a sleep. Then Robbie left him. "Is Rotha ready to go?" he asked. The night has been unruly:... Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death. Macbeth. The storm was now all but over. The moon shone clear, and the clouds that scudded across its face were few.
It was in one of Wilson's bouts away at at Gaskarth, so he said. Rotha was at the Moss: she hadn't come home for the night. I had worked till the darknin', and my eyes were heavy, they were, and then I had gone into the lanes. The night came on fast, and when I turned back I heard men singing and laughing as they came along towards me." "Some topers from the Red Lion, that was all?"
When Reuben Thwaite formed this resolution he was less than a mile from Shoulthwaite. In the house on the Moss, Rotha was then sitting alone, save for the silent presence of the unconscious Mrs. Ray. The day's work was done. It had been market day, and Willy Ray had not returned from Gaskarth. The old house was quiet within, and not a breath of wind was stirring without.
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