Lair of the White Worm

met, he began to butter her up, and tell her how beautiful she was.  Why,
before he left her side, he had asked himself to tea to-morrow at Mercy
Farm.  Stupid ass!  He might see that the girl isn't his sort!  I never
saw anything like it.  It was just like a hawk and a pigeon."

As he spoke, Sir Nathaniel turned and looked at Mr. Salton--a keen look
which implied a full understanding.

"Tell us all about it, Adam.  There are still a few minutes before
dinner, and we shall all have better appetites when we have come to some
conclusion on this matter."

"There is nothing to tell, sir; that is the worst of it.  I am bound to
say that there was not a word said that a human being could object to.  He
was very civil, and all that was proper--just what a landlord might be to
a tenant's daughter . . . Yet--yet--well, I don't know how it was, but it
made my blood boil."

"How did the hawk and the pigeon come in?"  Sir Nathaniel's voice was
soft and soothing, nothing of contradiction or overdone curiosity in it--a
tone eminently suited to win confidence.

"I can hardly explain.  I can only say that he looked like a hawk and she
like a dove--and, now that I think of it, that is what they each did look
like; and do look like in their normal condition."

"That is so!" came the soft voice of Sir Nathaniel.

Adam went on:

"Perhaps that early Roman look of his set me off.  But I wanted to
protect her; she seemed in danger."

"She seems in danger, in a way, from all you young men.  I couldn't help
noticing the way that even you looked--as if you wished to absorb her!"

"I hope both you young men will keep your heads cool," put in Mr. Salton.
"You know, Adam, it won't do to have any quarrel between you, especially
so soon after his home-coming and your arrival here.  We must think of
the feelings and happiness of our neighbours; mustn't we?"

"I hope so, sir.  I assure you that, whatever may happen, or even
threaten, I shall obey your wishes in this as in all things."

"Hush!" whispered Sir Nathaniel, who heard the servants in the passage
bringing dinner.

After dinner, over the walnuts and the wine, Sir Nathaniel returned to
the subject of the local legends.

"It will perhaps be a less dangerous topic for us to discuss than more
recent ones."

"All right, sir," said Adam heartily.  "I think you may depend on me now
with regard to any topic.  I can even discuss Mr. Caswall.  Indeed, I may
meet him to-morrow.  He is going, as I said, to call at Mercy Farm at
three o'clock--but I have an appointment at two."

"I notice," said Mr. Salton, "that you do not lose any time."

The two old men once more looked at each other steadily.  Then, lest the
mood of his listener should change with delay, Sir Nathaniel began at
once:

"I don't propose to tell you all the legends of Mercia, or even to make a
selection of them.  It will be better, I think, for our purpose if we
consider a few facts--recorded or unrecorded--about this neighbourhood.  I
think we might begin with Diana's Grove.  It has roots in the different
epochs of our history, and each has its special crop of legend.  The
Druid and the Roman are too far off for matters of detail; but it seems
to me the Saxon and the Angles are near enough to yield material for
legendary lore.  We find that this particular place had another name
besides Diana's Grove.  This was manifestly of Roman origin, or of
Grecian accepted as Roman.  The other is more pregnant of adventure and
romance than the Roman name.  In Mercian tongue it was 'The Lair of the
White Worm.'  This needs a word of explanation at the beginning.

"In the dawn of the language, the word 'worm' had a somewhat different
meaning from that in use to-day.  It was an adaptation of the Anglo-Saxon
'wyrm,' meaning a dragon or snake; or from the Gothic 'waurms,' a
serpent; or the Icelandic 'ormur,' or the German 'wurm.'  We gather that
it conveyed originally an idea of size and power, not as now in the
diminutive of both these meanings.  Here legendary history helps us.  We
have the well-known legend of the 'Worm Well' of Lambton Castle, and that
of the 'Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heugh' near Bamborough.  In both these
legends the 'worm' was a monster of vast size and power--a veritable
dragon or serpent, such as legend attributes to vast fens or quags where
there was illimitable room for expansion.  A glance at a geological map
will show that whatever truth there may have been of the actuality of
such monsters in the early geologic periods, at least there was plenty of
possibility.  In England there were originally vast plains where the
plentiful supply of water could gather.  The streams were deep and slow,
and there were holes of abysmal depth, where any kind and size of
antediluvian monster could find a habitat.  In places, which now we can
see from our windows, were mud-holes a hundred or more feet deep.  Who
can tell us when the age of the monsters which flourished in slime came
to an end?  There must have been places and conditions which made for
greater longevity, greater size, greater strength than was usual.  Such
over-lappings may have come down even to our earlier centuries.  Nay, are
there not now creatures of a vastness of bulk regarded by the generality