"Because I wish it; because it is gold; because you are too old, and
won't want it much longer."
"Take it," I cried, pulling the watch out and thrusting it into his
hand. "Take it--you who have taken all that is better! Strip me,
spoil me--"
A soft laugh sounded above, and I turned. My wife was looking down
on us from the window, and her eyes were both moist and glad.
"Pardon me," she said, "it is you who are spoiling the child."
STORIES OF BLEAKIRK.
I.--THE AFFAIR OF BLEAKIRK-ON-SANDS.
[_The events, which took place on November 23, 186-, are narrated by
Reuben Cartwright, Esq., of Bleakirk Hall, Bleakirk-on-Sands, in the
North Riding of Yorkshire_.]
A rough, unfrequented bridle-road rising and dipping towards the
coast, with here and there a glimpse of sea beyond the sad-coloured
moors: straight overhead, a red and wintry sun just struggling to
assert itself: to right and left, a stretch of barren down still
coated white with hoar-frost.
I had flung the reins upon my horse's neck, and was ambling
homewards. Between me and Bleakirk lay seven good miles, and we had
come far enough already on the chance of the sun's breaking through;
but as the morning wore on, so our prospect of hunting that day faded
further from us. It was now high noon, and I had left the hunt half
an hour ago, turned my face towards the coast, and lit a cigar to
beguile the way. When a man is twenty-seven he begins to miss the
fun of shivering beside a frozen cover.
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