



Produced by sp1nd, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
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                        BARBARA LYNN

                A TALE OF THE DALES AND FELLS

                     BY EMILY JENKINSON

        AUTHOR OF "SILVERWOOL," "THE SOUL OF UNREST."


    "An enduring soul have the Fates given unto men."--_ILIAD._


    LONDON
    EDWARD ARNOLD
    1914

    [_All Rights Reserved_]




CONTENTS



    PART I

        I. THE LONELY STEADING IN THE DALE                 3

       II. THE SISTERS                                    15

      III. PETER FLEMING                                  32

       IV. THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES                         48

        V. THE WAKING OF THE HOLY WELL                    62

       VI. JOEL'S DARKNESS                                77

      VII. MIDNIGHT                                       93

     VIII. JOEL GOES AWAY                                107

       IX. PETER AT OXFORD                               117

        X. KETEL'S PARLOUR                               127

       XI. THE BACK-END                                  139

      XII. SIX WHITE HORSES AND A COACH                  152

     XIII. JOEL TAKES THE LONG TRAIL                     165


    PART II

      XIV. BARBARA AND PETER                             175

       XV. MORNING AT THE SHEPHERDS' MEET                191

      XVI. JOEL'S RETURN TO THE DALE                     202

     XVII. THE WRESTLING MATCH                           214

    XVIII. BY THE CRESSET'S LIGHT                        225

      XIX. THE SHEPHERD'S REST                           237

       XX. THE SPELL OF THUNDERGAY                       248

      XXI. THE CALL                                      257

     XXII. THE TRYST AT GIRDLESTONE PASS                 266

    XXIII. A PATHWAY OF FIRE                             277

     XXIV. WINTER                                        287

      XXV. BARBARA COUNTS THE GOLD                       297

           EPILOGUE                                      309




BARBARA LYNN




PART I




CHAPTER I

THE LONELY STEADING IN THE DALE


Barbara Lynn looked up the dale.

Thundergay glimmered through the green twilight with his hoary head
under the Pole star, and his feet in the wan waters of a tarn. His
breath was the North wind.

Barbara put up the shutters and turned to an old woman, who was propped
against the pillows of a four-post bed. It stood in the full light of a
turf fire, and looked like a ship with its sails furled.

"I'll bid you good-night and good rest, great-granny," said the girl.

The old woman was watching her with keen eyes--eyes so bright that they
glittered under her shaggy brows.

"Do you ever waken o' nights?" she asked.

Barbara laughed and shook her head.

"Nay, I sleep from dark to dawn. But I'd hear you, great-granny, if you
called. I've ears like a mountain hare."

"Aye, aye, rest's for the young, restlessness for the old. I lie awake
thinking o' the days gone by. But you've no memories worth minding yet,
my lass. Wait till you're my age--ninety-six come Michaelmas."

Barbara placed a lighted candle on the bridewain close to the bed, and
stood for a moment looking down at the eagle-eyed old woman.

The Potter had made the new vessel after the pattern of the old, but the
spirit of life which each held was different. The girl and her
great-grandmother had the same wide brows, the same well-chiselled nose,
and their eyes were blue. Barbara was tall beyond the usual height of
her sex, and she carried her body with the grace of one accustomed to
stand on giddy heights and climb perilous places. Her head was finely
moulded, and in proportion to her form. Peter Fleming, the miller's son,
studying classics at Oxford, called her Athene, and said that a glance
into her blue eyes, gave strength to his shoulders and courage to his
heart. So had the old woman in the four-poster looked eighty years ago.

But though the eyes of both were blue, Barbara's were as mild and
meditative, as Mistress Annas Lynn's were hard. They scanned each other
narrowly. The marked difference as well as resemblance between them
seemed to strike the old woman, for she suddenly said:

"You take after me in looks, lass, though your father and his father
were the spitten picture of your great-grandfather, and Lucy favours
them. But you