A HARE IN THE SNOW 



of high living and prosperous content, contrasted 

 aggressively with the wretched interior in which he 

 stood. But in Sir Edmund's heart, in the stead of pity, 

 only a fierce resentment burned. The rich smell of 

 cooking which greeted his nostrils told him at once 

 what had been the end of the hare. A bloody knife 

 upon the table, the skin, and some entrails, completed 

 the chain of evidence. He glanced from the woman 

 to her husband, and his red-brown eyes blazed with 

 wrath. The man, who had been stooping over his 

 cooking-pot on the rude stone hearth, had straightened 

 himself as the knight entered, and, making clumsy 

 obeisance, now looked at him ruefully, tongue-tied, and 

 with fear. 



"So," said the knight in a harsh, angry voice, "'tis 

 as I expected. You, Thomas Goodwin, are the man 

 who steals my hares, snares my pheasants, and, I dare 

 wager, slays my deer. The snow has done me a shrewd 

 turn. I have watched every move of your knavish 

 law-breaking ; and, by my troth ! you shall surfer 

 for it." 



The man, with a gesture of despair, put up his 

 clenched hands entreatingly, and in a strong Sussex 

 dialect made answer in a trembling voice : 



"Your honour! reckon I were tempted. I killed 

 de hare, dis true ; but 'twere not meant onhendy. I 

 beant a poacher by natur', as some be. We staarve ; 

 de wife be sick and wakely. A man must live. I cannot 

 get work, an' dis bitter weather do try us sorely. I 

 cannot mew [change] my place just now, an' seek work 

 elsewhere ; I cannot see my wife an' babe die for lack of 

 victual. What be a man to do? " 



"Do!" roared the knight angrily. "Why, take 

 that hare out of the pot, put it in that sack 'twill 

 do to feed my dogs with and come with me to the 



181 



