The Poacher's Wife
By Eden Phillpotts
10 Sep, 2020
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
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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