The Poacher's Wife

The bar of the “White Hart,” Moretonhampstead, was full, and, in the atmosphere of smoke and beer, a buzz of sound went up from many throats. In one corner, round a table, men sat and laughed, but the object of their amusement did not share th ... Read more

The bar of the “White Hart,” Moretonhampstead, was full, and, in the atmosphere of smoke and beer, a buzz of sound went up from many throats. In one corner, round a table, men sat and laughed, but the object of their amusement did not share the fun. He was a powerful, bull-necked man with a clean-shorn face, grey whiskers, and dark eyes that shone brightly under pent-house brows, bushy and streaked with grey. Mr Matthew Sweetland heard the chaff of his companions and looked grim. He was head gamekeeper at Middlecott Court, and no man had a worthier reputation. From his master to his subordinates, all spoke well of him. His life prospered; his autumn “tips” were a splendid secret known only to himself and his wife. He looked forward presently to retiring from the severe business of a gamekeeper and spending the end of life in peace. One thorn alone pricked Matthew; and from that there was no escape. His only son, Daniel Sweetland, had disappointed him. The keeper’s wife strove to make her husband more sanguine; neighbours all foretold pleasant things concerning Daniel; but the lad’s reputation was not good. His knowledge of sport and his passion for sport had taken a sinister turn. They were spiced with a love of adventure and very vague ideas on the law of property. Flogging had not eradicated these instincts. When the time came to make choice of a trade, Daniel decided against gamekeeping. Less