diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:23:27 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:23:27 -0700 |
| commit | 2b6790ae152d6c93c860421b9a35ccffcaabb964 (patch) | |
| tree | 1352c7576c6f0204925c37f38b7371ea2b5d572d | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4422.txt | 3934 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4422.zip | bin | 0 -> 76089 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
5 files changed, 3950 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4422.txt b/4422.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c34791 --- /dev/null +++ b/4422.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3934 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Rhoda Fleming by George Meredith, v2 +#28 in our series by George Meredith + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. Do not change or edit it without written permission. +The words are carefully chosen to provide users with the +information they need to understand what they may and may not +do with the etext. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get etexts, and +further information, is included below. We need your donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + + + +Title: Rhoda Fleming, v2 + +Author: George Meredith + +Release Date: September, 2003 [Etext #4422] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 10, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +The Project Gutenberg Etext Rhoda Fleming by George Meredith, v2 +******This file should be named 4422.txt or 4422.zip****** + +This etext was produced by Pat Castevans <patcat@ctnet.net> +and David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +https://gutenberg.org or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +etexts, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2001 as we release over 50 new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 4000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts. We need +funding, as well as continued efforts by volunteers, to maintain +or increase our production and reach our goals. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of November, 2001, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, +Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, +Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, +Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, +Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, +Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fundraising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fundraising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by Pat Castevans <patcat@ctnet.net> +and David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +RHODA FLEMING + +By George Meredith + + + +BOOK 2 + +XII. AT THE THEATRE. +XIII. THE FARMER SPEAKS +XIV. BETWEEN RHODA AND ROBERT +XV. A VISIT TO WREXBY HALL +XVI. AT FAIRLY PARK +XVII. A YEOMAN OF THE OLD BREED +XVIII. AN ASSEMBLY AT THE PILOT INN +XIX. ROBERT SMITTEN LOW +XX. MRS. LOVELL SHOWS A TAME BRUTE + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Edward's engagement at his Club had been with his unfortunate cousin +Algernon; who not only wanted a dinner but 'five pounds or so' (the hazy +margin which may extend illimitably, or miserably contract, at the +lender's pleasure, and the necessity for which shows the borrower to be +dancing on Fortune's tight-rope above the old abyss). + +"Over claret," was to have been the time for the asking; and Algernon +waited dinnerless until the healthy-going minutes distended and swelled +monstrous and horrible as viper-bitten bodies, and the venerable Signior, +Time, became of unhealthy hue. For this was the first dinner which, +during the whole course of the young man's career, had ever been failing +to him. Reflect upon the mournful gap! He could scarcely believe in his +ill-luck. He suggested it to himself with an inane grin, as one of the +far-away freaks of circumstances that had struck him--and was it not +comical? + +He waited from the hour of six till the hour of seven. He compared +clocks in the hall and the room. He changed the posture of his legs +fifty times. For a while he wrestled right gallantly with the apparent +menace of the Fates that he was to get no dinner at all that day; it +seemed incredibly derisive, for, as I must repeat, it had never happened +to him by any accident before. "You are born--you dine." Such appeared +to him to be the positive regulation of affairs, and a most proper one, +--of the matters of course following the birth of a young being. + +By what frightful mischance, then, does he miss his dinner? By placing +the smallest confidence in the gentlemanly feeling of another man! +Algernon deduced this reply accurately from his own experience, and +whether it can be said by other "undined" mortals, does not matter in the +least. But we have nothing to do with the constitutionally luckless: the +calamitous history of a simple empty stomach is enough. Here the tragedy +is palpable. Indeed, too sadly so, and I dare apply but a flash of the +microscope to the rageing dilemmas of this animalcule. Five and twenty +minutes had signalled their departure from the hour of seven, when +Algernon pronounced his final verdict upon Edward's conduct by leaving +the Club. He returned to it a quarter of an hour later, and lingered on +in desperate mood till eight. + +He had neither watch in his pocket, nor ring on his finger, nor +disposable stud in his shirt. The sum of twenty-one pence was in his +possession, and, I ask you, as he asked himself, how is a gentleman to +dine upon that? He laughed at the notion. The irony of Providence sent +him by a cook's shop, where the mingled steam of meats and puddings +rushed out upon the wayfarer like ambushed bandits, and seized him and +dragged him in, or sent him qualmish and humbled on his way. + +Two little boys had flattened their noses to the whiteness of winkles +against the jealously misty windows. Algernon knew himself to be +accounted a generous fellow, and remembering his reputation, he, as to +hint at what Fortune might do in his case, tossed some coppers to the +urchins, who ducked to the pavement and slid before the counter, in a +flash, with never a "thank ye" or the thought of it. + +Algernon was incapable of appreciating this childish faith in the +beneficence of the unseen Powers who feed us, which, I must say for him, +he had shared in a very similar manner only two hours ago. He laughed +scornfully: "The little beggars!" considering in his soul that of such is +humanity composed: as many a dinnerless man has said before, and will +again, to point the speech of fools. He continued strolling on, +comparing the cramped misty London aspect of things with his visionary +free dream of the glorious prairies, where his other life was: the +forests, the mountains, the endless expanses; the horses, the flocks, the +slipshod ease of language and attire; and the grog-shops. Aha! There +could be no mistake about him as a gentleman and a scholar out there! +Nor would Nature shut up her pocket and demand innumerable things of him, +as civilization did. This he thought in the vengefulness of his outraged +mind. + +Not only had Algernon never failed to dine every day of his life: +he had no recollection of having ever dined without drinking wine. His +conception did not embrace the idea of a dinner lacking wine. Possibly +he had some embodied understanding that wine did not fall to the lot of +every fellow upon earth: he had heard of gullets unrefreshed even by +beer: but at any rate he himself was accustomed to better things, and he +did not choose to excavate facts from the mass of his knowledge in order +to reconcile himself to the miserable chop he saw for his dinner in the +distance--a spot of meat in the arctic circle of a plate, not shone upon +by any rosy-warming sun of a decanter! + +But metaphorical language, though nothing other will convey the extremity +of his misery, or the form of his thoughts, must be put aside. + +"Egad, and every friend I have is out of town!" he exclaimed, quite +willing to think it part of the plot. + +He stuck his hands in his pockets, and felt vagabond-like and reckless. +The streets were revelling in their winter muck. The carriages rolling +by insulted him with their display of wealth. + +He had democratic sentiments regarding them. Oh for a horse upon the +boundless plains! he sighed to his heart. He remembered bitterly how he +had that day ridden his stool at the bank, dreaming of his wilds, where +bailiff never ran, nor duns obscured the firmament. + +And then there were theatres here--huge extravagant places! Algernon went +over to an entrance of one, to amuse his mind, cynically criticizing the +bill. A play was going forward within, that enjoyed great popular +esteem, "The Holly Berries." Seeing that the pit was crammed, Algernon +made application to learn the state of the boxes, but hearing that one +box was empty, he lost his interest in the performance. + +As he was strolling forth, his attention was taken by a noise at the +pit-doors, which swung open, and out tumbled a tough little old man with +a younger one grasping his coat-collar, who proclaimed that he would +sicken him of pushing past him at the end of every act. + +"You're precious fond of plays," sneered the junior. + +"I'm fond of everything I pay for, young fellow," replied the shaken +senior; "and that's a bit of enjoyment you've got to learn--ain't it?" + +"Well, don't you knock by me again, that's all," cried the choleric +youth. + +"You don't think I'm likely to stop in your company, do you?" + +"Whose expense have you been drinking at?" + +"My country's, young fellow; and mind you don't soon feed at the table. +Let me go." + +Algernon's hunger was appeased by the prospect of some excitement, and +seeing a vicious shake administered to the old man by the young one, he +cried, "Hands off!" and undertook policeman's duty; but as he was not in +blue, his authoritative mandate obtained no respect until he had +interposed his fist. + +When he had done so, he recognized the porter at Boyne's Bank, whose +enemy retired upon the threat that there should be no more pushing past +him to get back to seats for the next act. + +"I paid," said Anthony; "and you're a ticketer, and you ticketers sha' +n't stop me. I'm worth a thousand of you. Holloa, sir," he cried to +Algernon; "I didn't know you. I'm much obliged. These chaps get tickets +given 'm, and grow as cocky in a theatre as men who pay. He never had +such wine in him as I've got. That I'd swear. Ha! ha! I come out for an +airing after every act, and there's a whole pitfall of ticketers yelling +and tearing, and I chaff my way through and back clean as a red-hot +poker." + +Anthony laughed, and rolled somewhat as he laughed. + +"Come along, sir, into the street," he said, boring on to the pavement. +"It's after office hours. And, ha! ha! what do you think? There's old +farmer in there, afraid to move off his seat, and the girl with him, +sticking to him tight, and a good girl too. She thinks we've had too +much. We been to the Docks, wine-tasting: Port--Sherry: Sherry--Port! +and, ha! ha! 'what a lot of wine!' says farmer, never thinking how much +he's taking on board. "I guessed it was night," says farmer, as we got +into the air, and to see him go on blinking, and stumbling, and saying to +me, 'You stand wine, brother Tony!' I'm blest if I ain't bottled +laughter. So, says I, 'come and see "The Holly Berries," brother William +John; it's the best play in London, and a suitable winter piece.' 'Is +there a rascal hanged in the piece?' says he. 'Oh, yes!' I let him fancy +there was, and he--ha! ha! old farmer's sticking to his seat, solemn as a +judge, waiting for the gallows to come on the stage." + +A thought quickened Algernon's spirit. It was a notorious secret among +the young gentlemen who assisted in maintaining the prosperity of Boyne's +Bank, that the old porter--the "Old Ant," as he was called--possessed +money, and had no objection to put out small sums for a certain interest. +Algernon mentioned casually that he had left his purse at home; and "by +the way," said he, "have you got a few sovereigns in your pocket?" + +"What! and come through that crush, sir?" Anthony negatived the question +decisively with a reference to his general knowingness. + +Algernon pressed him; saying at last, "Well, have you got one?" + +"I don't think I've been such a fool," said Anthony, feeling slowly about +his person, and muttering as to the changes that might possibly have been +produced in him by the Docks. + +"Confound it, I haven't dined!" exclaimed Algernon, to hasten his +proceedings; but at this, Anthony eyed him queerly. "What have you been +about then, sir?" + +"Don't you see I'm in evening dress? I had an appointment to dine with a +friend. He didn't keep it. I find I've left my purse in my other +clothes." + +"That's a bad habit, sir," was Anthony's comment. "You don't care much +for your purse." + +"Much for my purse, be hanged!" interjected Algernon. + +"You'd have felt it, or you'd have heard it, if there 'd been any weight +in it," Anthony remarked. + +"How can you hear paper?" + +"Oh, paper's another thing. You keep paper in your mind, don't you--eh? +Forget pound notes? Leave pound notes in a purse? And you Sir William's +nephew, sir, who'd let you bank with him and put down everything in a +book, so that you couldn't forget, or if you did, he'd remember for you; +and you might change your clothes as often as not, and no fear of your +losing a penny." + +Algernon shrugged disgustedly, and was giving the old man up as a bad +business, when Anthony altered his manner. "Oh! well, sir, I don't mind +letting you have what I've got. I'm out for fun. Bother affairs!" + +The sum of twenty shillings was handed to Algernon, after he had +submitted to the indignity of going into a public-house, and writing his +I.O.U. for twenty-three to Anthony Hackbut, which included interest. +Algernon remonstrated against so needless a formality; but Anthony put +the startling supposition to him, that he might die that night. He +signed the document, and was soon feeding and drinking his wine. This +being accomplished, he took some hasty puffs of tobacco, and returned to +the theatre, in the hope that the dark girl Rhoda was to be seen there; +for now that he had dined, Anthony's communication with regard to the +farmer and his daughter became his uppermost thought, and a young man's +uppermost thought is usually the propelling engine to his actions. + +By good chance, and the aid of a fee, he obtained a front seat, +commanding an excellent side-view of the pit, which sat wrapt in +contemplation of a Christmas scene snow, ice, bare twigs, a desolate +house, and a woman shivering--one of man's victims. + +It is a good public, that of Britain, and will bear anything, so long as +villany is punished, of which there was ripe promise in the oracular +utterances of a rolling, stout, stage-sailor, whose nose, to say nothing +of his frankness on the subject, proclaimed him his own worst enemy, and +whose joke, by dint of repetition, had almost become the joke of the +audience too; for whenever he appeared, there was agitation in pit and +gallery, which subsided only on his jovial thundering of the familiar +sentence; whereupon laughter ensued, and a quieting hum of satisfaction. + +It was a play that had been favoured with a great run. Critics had once +objected to it, that it was made to subsist on scenery, a song, and a +stupid piece of cockneyism pretending to be a jest, that was really no +more than a form of slapping the public on the back. But the public +likes to have its back slapped, and critics, frozen by the Medusa-head of +Success, were soon taught manners. The office of critic is now, in fact, +virtually extinct; the taste for tickling and slapping is universal and +imperative; classic appeals to the intellect, and passions not purely +domestic, have grown obsolete. There are captains of the legions, but no +critics. The mass is lord. + +And behold our friend the sailor of the boards, whose walk is even as two +meeting billows, appears upon the lonely moor, and salts that uninhabited +region with nautical interjections. Loose are his hose in one part, +tight in another, and he smacks them. It is cold; so let that be his +excuse for showing the bottom of his bottle to the glittering spheres. +He takes perhaps a sturdier pull at the liquor than becomes a manifest +instrument of Providence, whose services may be immediately required; but +he informs us that his ship was never known not to right itself when +called upon. + +He is alone in the world, he tells us likewise. If his one friend, the +uplifted flask, is his enemy, why then he feels bound to treat his enemy +as his friend. This, with a pathetic allusion to his interior economy, +which was applauded, and the remark "Ain't that Christian?" which was +just a trifle risky; so he secured pit and gallery at a stroke by a +surpassingly shrewd blow at the bishops of our Church, who are, it can +barely be contested, in foul esteem with the multitude--none can say +exactly, for what reason--and must submit to be occasionally offered up +as propitiatory sacrifices. + +This good sailor was not always alone in the world. A sweet girl, whom +he describes as reaching to his kneecap, and pathetically believes still +to be of the same height, once called him brother Jack. To hear that +name again from her lips, and a particular song!--he attempts it +ludicrously, yet touchingly withal. + +Hark! Is it an echo from a spirit in the frigid air? + +The song trembled with a silver ring to the remotest corners of the +house. + +At that moment the breathless hush of the audience was flurried by +hearing "Dahlia" called from the pit. + +Algernon had been spying among the close-packed faces for a sight of +Rhoda. Rhoda was now standing up amid gathering hisses and outcries. +Her eyes were bent on a particular box, across which a curtain was +hastily being drawn. "My sister!" she sent out a voice of anguish, and +remained with clasped hands and twisted eyebrows, looking toward that one +spot, as if she would have flown to it. She was wedged in the mass, and +could not move. + +The exclamation heard had belonged to brother Jack, on the stage, whose +burst of fraternal surprise and rapture fell flat after it, to the +disgust of numbers keenly awakened for the sentiment of this scene. + +Roaring accusations that she was drunk; that she had just escaped from +Bedlam for an evening; that she should be gagged and turned headlong out, +surrounded her; but she stood like a sculptured figure, vital in her eyes +alone. The farmer put his arm about his girl's waist. The instant, +however, that Anthony's head uprose on the other side of her, the evil +reputation he had been gaining for himself all through the evening +produced a general clamour, over which the gallery played, miauling, and +yelping like dogs that are never to be divorced from a noise. Algernon +feared mischief. He quitted his seat, and ran out into the lobby. + +Half-a-dozen steps, and he came in contact with some one, and they were +mutually drenched with water by the shock. It was his cousin Edward, +bearing a glass in his hand. + +Algernon's wrath at the sight of this offender was stimulated by the cold +bath; but Edward cut him short. + +"Go in there;" he pointed to a box-door. "A lady has fainted. Hold her +up till I come." + +No time was allowed for explanation. Algernon passed into the box, and +was alone with an inanimate shape in blue bournous. The uproar in the +theatre raged; the whole pit was on its legs and shouting. He lifted the +pallid head over one arm, miserably helpless and perplexed, but his +anxiety concerning Rhoda's personal safety in that sea of strife prompted +him to draw back the curtain a little, and he stood exposed. Rhoda +perceived him. She motioned with both her hands in dumb supplication. In +a moment the curtain closed between them. Edward's sharp white face +cursed him mutely for his folly, while he turned and put the water to +Dahlia's lips, and touched her forehead with it. + +"What's the matter?" whispered Algernon. + +"We must get her out as quick as we can. This is the way with women! +Come! she's recovering." Edward nursed her sternly as he spoke. + +"If she doesn't, pretty soon, we shall have the pit in upon us," said +Algernon. "Is she that girl's sister?" + +"Don't ask damned questions." + +Dahlia opened her eyes, staring placidly. + +"Now you can stand up, my dear. Dahlia! all's well. Try," said Edward. + +She sighed, murmuring, "What is the time?" and again, "What noise is it?" + +Edward coughed in a vexed attempt at tenderness, using all his force to +be gentle with her as he brought her to her feet. The task was difficult +amid the threatening storm in the theatre, and cries of "Show the young +woman her sister!" for Rhoda had won a party in the humane public. + +"Dahlia, in God's name give me your help!" Edward called in her ear. + +The fair girl's eyelids blinked wretchedly in protestation of her +weakness. She had no will either way, and suffered herself to be led out +of the box, supported by the two young men. + +"Run for a cab," said Edward; and Algernon went ahead. + +He had one waiting for them as they came out. They placed Dahlia on a +seat with care, and Edward, jumping in, drew an arm tightly about her. +"I can't cry," she moaned. + +The cab was driving off as a crowd of people burst from the pit-doors, +and Algernon heard the voice of Farmer Fleming, very hoarse. He had +discretion enough to retire. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Robert was to drive to the station to meet Rhoda and her father returning +from London, on a specified day. He was eager to be asking cheerful +questions of Dahlia's health and happiness, so that he might dispel the +absurd general belief that he had ever loved the girl, and was now +regretting her absence; but one look at Rhoda's face when she stepped +from the railway carriage kept him from uttering a word on that subject, +and the farmer's heavier droop and acceptance of a helping hand into the +cart, were signs of bad import. + +Mr. Fleming made no show of grief, like one who nursed it. He took it to +all appearance as patiently as an old worn horse would do, although such +an outward submissiveness will not always indicate a placid spirit in +men. He talked at stale intervals of the weather and the state of the +ground along the line of rail down home, and pointed in contempt or +approval to a field here and there; but it was as one who no longer had +any professional interest in the tilling of the land. + +Doubtless he was trained to have no understanding of a good to be derived +by his communicating what he felt and getting sympathy. Once, when he was +uncertain, and a secret pride in Dahlia's beauty and accomplishments had +whispered to him that her flight was possibly the opening of her road to +a higher fortune, he made a noise for comfort, believing in his heart +that she was still to be forgiven. He knew better now. By holding his +peace he locked out the sense of shame which speech would have stirred +within him. + +"Got on pretty smooth with old Mas' Gammon?" he expressed his hope; and +Robert said, "Capitally. We shall make something out of the old man yet, +never fear." + +Master Gammon was condemned to serve at the ready-set tea-table as a butt +for banter; otherwise it was apprehended well that Mrs. Sumfit would have +scorched the ears of all present, save the happy veteran of the furrows, +with repetitions of Dahlia's name, and wailings about her darling, of +whom no one spoke. They suffered from her in spite of every precaution. + +"Well, then, if I'm not to hear anything dooring meals--as if I'd swallow +it and take it into my stomach!--I'll wait again for what ye've got to +tell," she said, and finished her cup at a gulp, smoothing her apron. + +The farmer then lifted his head. + +"Mother, if you've done, you'll oblige me by going to bed," he said. "We +want the kitchen." + +"A-bed?" cried Mrs. Sumfit, with instantly ruffled lap. + +"Upstairs, mother; when you've done--not before." + +"Then bad's the noos! Something have happened, William. You 'm not +going to push me out? And my place is by the tea-pot, which I cling to, +rememberin' how I seen her curly head grow by inches up above the table +and the cups. Mas' Gammon," she appealed to the sturdy feeder, "five +cups is your number?" + +Her hope was reduced to the prolonging of the service of tea, with Master +Gammon's kind assistance. + +"Four, marm," said her inveterate antagonist, as he finished that amount, +and consequently put the spoon in his cup. + +Mrs. Sumfit rolled in her chair. + +"O Lord, Mas' Gammon! Five, I say; and never a cup less so long as here +you've been." + +"Four, marm. I don't know," said Master Gammon, with a slow nod of his +head, "that ever I took five cups of tea at a stretch. Not runnin'." + +"I do know, Mas' Gammon. And ought to: for don't I pour out to ye? It's +five you take, and please, your cup, if you'll hand it over." + +"Four's my number, marm," Master Gammon reiterated resolutely. He sat +like a rock. + +"If they was dumplins," moaned Mrs. Sumfit, "not four, no, nor five, 'd +do till enough you'd had, and here we might stick to our chairs, but +you'd go on and on; you know you would." + +"That's eatin', marm;" Master Gammon condescended to explain the nature +of his habits. "I'm reg'lar in my drinkin'." + +Mrs. Sumfit smote her hands together. "O Lord, Mas' Gammon, the +wearisomest old man I ever come across is you. More tea's in the pot, +and it ain't watery, and you won't be comfortable. May you get +forgiveness from above! is all I say, and I say no more. Mr. Robert, +perhaps you'll be so good as let me help you, sir? It's good tea; and my +Dody," she added, cajolingly, "my home girl 'll tell us what she saw. +I'm pinched and starved to hear." + +"By-and-by, mother," interposed the farmer; "tomorrow." He spoke gently, +but frowned. + +Both Rhoda and Robert perceived that they were peculiarly implicated in +the business which was to be discussed without Mrs. Sumfit's assistance. +Her father's manner forbade Rhoda from making any proposal for the relief +of the forlorn old woman. + +"And me not to hear to-night about your play-going!" sighed Mrs. Sumfit. +"Oh, it's hard on me. I do call it cruel. And how my sweet was dressed-- +like as for a Ball." + +She saw the farmer move his foot impatiently. + +"Then, if nobody drinks this remaining cup, I will," she pursued. + +No voice save her own was heard till the cup was emptied, upon which +Master Gammon, according to his wont, departed for bed to avoid the +seduction of suppers, which he shunned as apoplectic, and Mrs. Sumfit +prepared, in a desolate way, to wash the tea-things, but the farmer, +saying that it could be done in the morning, went to the door and opened +it for her. + +She fetched a great sigh and folded her hands resignedly. As she was +passing him to make her miserable enforced exit, the heavy severity of +his face afflicted her with a deep alarm; she fell on her knees, crying,-- + +"Oh, William! it ain't for sake of hearin' talk; but you, that went to +see our Dahly, the blossom, 've come back streaky under the eyes, and you +make the house feel as if we neighboured Judgement Day. Down to tea you +set the first moment, and me alone with none of you, and my love for my +girl known well to you. And now to be marched off! How can I go a-bed +and sleep, and my heart jumps so? It ain't Christian to ask me to. I +got a heart, dear, I have. Do give a bit of comfort to it. Only a word +of my Dahly to me." + +The farmer replied: "Mother, let's have no woman's nonsense. What we've +got to bear, let us bear. And you go on your knees to the Lord, and +don't be a heathen woman, I say. Get up. There's a Bible in your +bedroom. Find you out comfort in that." + +"No, William, no!" she sobbed, still kneeling: "there ain't a dose o' +comfort there when poor souls is in the dark, and haven't got patience +for passages. And me and my Bible!--how can I read it, and not know my +ailing, and a'stract one good word, William? It'll seem only the devil's +shootin' black lightnings across the page, as poor blessed granny used to +say, and she believed witches could do it to you in her time, when they +was evil-minded. No! To-night I look on the binding of the Holy Book, +and I don't, and I won't, I sha' n't open it." + +This violent end to her petition was wrought by the farmer grasping her +arm to bring her to her feet. + +"Go to bed, mother." + +"I shan't open it," she repeated, defiantly. "And it ain't," she +gathered up her comfortable fat person to assist the words "it ain't +good--no, not the best pious ones--I shall, and will say it! as is al'ays +ready to smack your face with the Bible." + +"Now, don't ye be angry," said the farmer. + +She softened instantly. + +"William, dear, I got fifty-seven pounds sterling, and odd shillings, in +a Savings-bank, and that I meant to go to Dahly, and not to yond' dark +thing sitting there so sullen, and me in my misery; I'd give it to you +now for news of my darlin'. Yes, William; and my poor husband's cottage, +in Sussex--seventeen pound per annum. That, if you'll be goodness +itself, and let me hear a word." + +"Take her upstairs," said the farmer to Rhoda, and Rhoda went by her and +took her hands, and by dint of pushing from behind and dragging in front, +Mrs. Sumfit, as near on a shriek as one so fat and sleek could be, was +ejected. The farmer and Robert heard her struggles and exclamations +along the passage, but her resistance subsided very suddenly. + +"There's power in that girl," said the farmer, standing by the shut door. + +Robert thought so, too. It affected his imagination, and his heart began +to beat sickeningly. + +"Perhaps she promised to speak--what has happened, whatever that may be," +he suggested. + +"Not she; not she. She respects my wishes." + +Robert did not ask what had happened. + +Mr. Fleming remained by the door, and shut his mouth from a further word +till he heard Rhoda's returning footstep. He closed the door again +behind her, and went up to the square deal table, leaned his body forward +on the knuckles of his trembling fist, and said, "We're pretty well +broken up, as it is. I've lost my taste for life." + +There he paused. Save by the shining of a wet forehead, his face +betrayed nothing of the anguish he suffered. He looked at neither of +them, but sent his gaze straight away under labouring brows to an arm of +the fireside chair, while his shoulders drooped on the wavering support +of his hard-shut hands. Rhoda's eyes, ox-like, as were her father's, +smote full upon Robert's, as in a pang of apprehension of what was about +to be uttered. + +It was a quick blaze of light, wherein he saw that the girl's spirit was +not with him. He would have stopped the farmer at once, but he had not +the heart to do it, even had he felt in himself strength to attract an +intelligent response from that strange, grave, bovine fixity of look, +over which the human misery sat as a thing not yet taken into the dull +brain. + +"My taste for life," the old man resumed, "that's gone. I didn't bargain +at set-out to go on fighting agen the world. It's too much for a man o' +my years. Here's the farm. Shall 't go to pieces?--I'm a farmer of +thirty year back--thirty year back, and more: I'm about no better'n a +farm labourer in our time, which is to-day. I don't cost much. I ask to +be fed, and to work for it, and to see my poor bit o' property safe, as +handed to me by my father. Not for myself, 't ain't; though perhaps +there's a bottom of pride there too, as in most things. Say it's for the +name. My father seems to demand of me out loud, 'What ha' ye done with +Queen Anne's Farm, William?' and there's a holler echo in my ears. Well; +God wasn't merciful to give me a son. He give me daughters." + +Mr. Fleming bowed his head as to the very weapon of chastisement. + +"Daughters!" He bent lower. + +His hearers might have imagined his headless address to them to be also +without a distinct termination, for he seemed to have ended as abruptly +as he had begun; so long was the pause before, with a wearied lifting of +his body, he pursued, in a sterner voice: + +"Don't let none interrupt me." His hand was raised as toward where Rhoda +stood, but he sent no look with it; the direction was wide of her. + +The aspect of the blank blind hand motioning to the wall away from her, +smote an awe through her soul that kept her dumb, though his next words +were like thrusts of a dagger in her side. + +"My first girl--she's brought disgrace on this house. She's got a mother +in heaven, and that mother's got to blush for her. My first girl's gone +to harlotry in London." + +It was Scriptural severity of speech. Robert glanced quick with intense +commiseration at Rhoda. He saw her hands travel upward till they fixed +in at her temples with crossed fingers, making the pressure of an iron +band for her head, while her lips parted, and her teeth, and cheeks, and +eyeballs were all of one whiteness. Her tragic, even, in and out +breathing, where there was no fall of the breast, but the air was taken +and given, as it were the square blade of a sharp-edged sword, was +dreadful to see. She had the look of a risen corpse, recalling some one +of the bloody ends of life. + +The farmer went on,-- + +"Bury her! Now you here know the worst. There's my second girl. She's +got no stain on her; if people 'll take her for what she is herself. +She's idle. But I believe the flesh on her bones she'd wear away for any +one that touched her heart. She's a temper. But she's clean both in body +and in spirit, as I believe, and say before my God. I--what I'd pray for +is, to see this girl safe. All I have shall go to her. That is, to the +man who will--won't be ashamed--marry her, I mean!" + +The tide of his harshness failed him here, and he began to pick his +words, now feeble, now emphatic, but alike wanting in natural expression, +for he had reached a point of emotion upon the limits of his nature, and +he was now wilfully forcing for misery and humiliation right and left, in +part to show what a black star Providence had been over him. + +"She'll be grateful. I shall be gone. What disgrace I bring to their +union, as father of the other one also, will, I'm bound to hope, be +buried with me in my grave; so that this girl's husband shan't have to +complain that her character and her working for him ain't enough to cover +any harm he's like to think o' the connexion. And he won't be troubled +by relationships after that. + +"I used to think Pride a bad thing. I thank God we've all got it in our +blood--the Flemings. I thank God for that now, I do. We don't face +again them as we offend. Not, that is, with the hand out. We go. We're +seen no more. And she'll be seen no more. On that, rely. + +"I want my girl here not to keep me in the fear of death. For I fear +death while she's not safe in somebody's hands--kind, if I can get him +for her. Somebody--young or old!" + +The farmer lifted his head for the first time, and stared vacantly at +Robert. + +"I'd marry her," he said, "if I was knowing myself dying now or to-morrow +morning, I'd marry her, rather than leave her alone--I'd marry her to +that old man, old Gammon." + +The farmer pointed to the ceiling. His sombre seriousness cloaked and +carried even that suggestive indication to the possible bridegroom's age +and habits, and all things associated with him, through the gates of +ridicule; and there was no laughter, and no thought of it. + +"It stands to reason for me to prefer a young man for her husband. He'll +farm the estate, and won't sell it; so that it goes to our blood, if not +to a Fleming. If, I mean, he's content to farm soberly, and not play +Jack o' Lantern tricks across his own acres. Right in one thing's right, +I grant; but don't argue right in all. It's right only in one thing. +Young men, when they've made a true hit or so, they're ready to think +it's themselves that's right." + +This was of course a reminder of the old feud with Robert, and +sufficiently showed whom the farmer had in view for a husband to Rhoda, +if any doubt existed previously. + +Having raised his eyes, his unwonted power of speech abandoned him, and +he concluded, wavering in look and in tone,-- + +"I'd half forgotten her uncle. I've reckoned his riches when I cared for +riches. I can't say th' amount; but, all--I've had his word for it--all +goes to this--God knows how much!--girl. And he don't hesitate to say +she's worth a young man's fancying. May be so. It depends upon ideas +mainly, that does. All goes to her. And this farm.--I wish ye +good-night." + +He gave them no other sign, but walked in his oppressed way quietly to +the inner door, and forth, leaving the rest to them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The two were together, and all preliminary difficulties had been cleared +for Robert to say what he had to say, in a manner to make the saying of +it well-nigh impossible. And yet silence might be misinterpreted by her. +He would have drawn her to his heart at one sign of tenderness. There +came none. The girl was frightfully torn with a great wound of shame. +She was the first to speak. + +"Do you believe what father says of my sister?" + +"That she--?" Robert swallowed the words. "No!" and he made a thunder +with his fist. + +"No!" She drank up the word. "You do not? No! You know that Dahlia is +innocent?" + +Rhoda was trembling with a look for the asseveration; her pale face eager +as a cry for life; but the answer did not come at once hotly as her +passion for it demanded. She grew rigid, murmuring faintly: "speak! Do +speak!" + +His eyes fell away from hers. Sweet love would have wrought in him to +think as she thought, but she kept her heart closed from him, and he +stood sadly judicial, with a conscience of his own, that would not permit +him to declare Dahlia innocent, for he had long been imagining the +reverse. + +Rhoda pressed her hands convulsively, moaning, "Oh!" down a short deep +breath. + +"Tell me what has happened?" said Robert, made mad by that reproachful +agony of her voice. "I'm in the dark. I'm not equal to you all. If +Dahlia's sister wants one to stand up for her, and defend her, whatever +she has done or not done, ask me. Ask me, and I'll revenge her. Here am +I, and I know nothing, and you despise me because--don't think me rude or +unkind. This hand is yours, if you will. Come, Rhoda. Or, let me hear +the case, and I'll satisfy you as best I can. Feel for her? I feel for +her as you do. You don't want me to stand a liar to your question? How +can I speak?" + +A woman's instinct at red heat pierces the partial disingenuousness which +Robert could only have avoided by declaring the doubts he entertained. +Rhoda desired simply to be supported by his conviction of her sister's +innocence, and she had scorn of one who would not chivalrously advance +upon the risks of right and wrong, and rank himself prime champion of a +woman belied, absent, and so helpless. Besides, there was but one virtue +possible in Rhoda's ideas, as regarded Dahlia: to oppose facts, if +necessary, and have her innocent perforce, and fight to the death them +that dared cast slander on the beloved head. + +Her keen instinct served her so far. + +His was alive when she refused to tell him what had taken place during +their visit to London. + +She felt that a man would judge evil of the circumstances. Her father and +her uncle had done so: she felt that Robert would. Love for him would +have prompted her to confide in him absolutely. She was not softened by +love; there was no fire on her side to melt and make them run in one +stream, and they could not meet. + +"Then, if you will not tell me," said Robert, "say what you think of your +father's proposal? He meant that I may ask you to be my wife. He used +to fancy I cared for your sister. That's false. I care for her--yes; as +my sister too; and here is my hand to do my utmost for her, but I love +you, and I've loved you for some time. I'd be proud to marry you and +help on with the old farm. You don't love me yet--which is a pretty hard +thing for me to see to be certain of. But I love you, and I trust you. +I like the stuff you're made of--and nice stuff I'm talking to a young +woman," he added, wiping his forehead at the idea of the fair and +flattering addresses young women expect when they are being wooed. + +As it was, Rhoda listened with savage contempt of his idle talk. Her +brain was beating at the mystery and misery wherein Dahlia lay engulfed. +She had no understanding for Robert's sentimentality, or her father's +requisition. Some answer had to be given, and she said,-- + +"I'm not likely to marry a man who supposes he has anything to pardon." + +"I don't suppose it," cried Robert. + +"You heard what father said." + +"I heard what he said, but I don't think the same. What has Dahlia to do +with you?" + +He was proceeding to rectify this unlucky sentence. All her covert +hostility burst out on it. + +"My sister?--what has my sister to do with me?--you mean!--you mean--you +can only mean that we are to be separated and thought of as two people; +and we are one, and will be till we die. I feel my sister's hand in +mine, though she's away and lost. She is my darling for ever and ever. +We're one!" + +A spasm of anguish checked the girl. + +"I mean," Robert resumed steadily, "that her conduct, good or bad, +doesn't touch you. If it did, it'd be the same to me. I ask you to take +me for your husband. Just reflect on what your father said, Rhoda." + +The horrible utterance her father's lips had been guilty of flashed +through her, filling her with mastering vindictiveness, now that she had +a victim. + +"Yes! I'm to take a husband to remind me of what he said." + +Robert eyed her sharpened mouth admiringly; her defence of her sister had +excited his esteem, wilfully though she rebutted his straightforward +earnestness and he had a feeling also for the easy turns of her neck, and +the confident poise of her figure. + +"Ha! well!" he interjected, with his eyebrows queerly raised, so that she +could make nothing of his look. It seemed half maniacal, it was so +ridged with bright eagerness. + +"By heaven! the task of taming you--that's the blessing I'd beg for in my +prayers! Though you were as wild as a cat of the woods, by heaven! I'd +rather have the taming of you than go about with a leash of quiet"--he +checked himself--"companions." + +Such was the sudden roll of his tongue, that she was lost in the +astounding lead he had taken, and stared. + +"You're the beauty to my taste, and devil is what I want in a woman! I +can make something out of a girl with a temper like yours. You don't +know me, Miss Rhoda. I'm what you reckon a good young man. Isn't that +it?" + +Robert drew up with a very hard smile. + +"I would to God I were! Mind, I feel for you about your sister. I like +you the better for holding to her through thick and thin. But my +sheepishness has gone, and I tell you I'll have you whether you will or +no. I can help you and you can help me. I've lived here as if I had no +more fire in me than old Gammon snoring on his pillow up aloft; and who +kept me to it? Did you see I never touched liquor? What did you guess +from that?--that I was a mild sort of fellow? So I am: but I haven't got +that reputation in other parts. Your father 'd like me to marry you, and +I'm ready. Who kept me to work, so that I might learn to farm, and be a +man, and be able to take a wife? I came here--I'll tell you how. I was +a useless dog. I ran from home and served as a trooper. An old aunt of +mine left me a little money, which just woke me up and gave me a lift of +what conscience I had, and I bought myself out. + +"I chanced to see your father's advertisement--came, looked at you all, +and liked you--brought my traps and settled among you, and lived like a +good young man. I like peace and orderliness, I find. I always thought +I did, when I was dancing like mad to hell. I know I do now, and you're +the girl to keep me to it. I've learnt that much by degrees. With any +other, I should have been playing the fool, and going my old ways, long +ago. I should have wrecked her, and drunk to forget. You're my match. +By-and-by you'll know, me yours! You never gave me, or anybody else that +I've seen, sly sidelooks. + +"Come! I'll speak out now I'm at work. I thought you at some girl's +games in the Summer. You went out one day to meet a young gentleman. +Offence or no offence, I speak and you listen. You did go out. I was in +love with you then, too. I saw London had been doing its mischief. I +was down about it. I felt that he would make nothing of you, but I chose +to take the care of you, and you've hated me ever since. + +"That Mr. Algernon Blancove's a rascal. Stop! You'll say as much as you +like presently. I give you a warning--the man's a rascal. I didn't play +spy on your acts, but your looks. I can read a face like yours, and it's +my home, my home!--by heaven, it is. Now, Rhoda, you know a little more +of me. Perhaps I'm more of a man than you thought. Marry another, if +you will; but I'm the man for you, and I know it, and you'll go wrong if +you don't too. Come! let your father sleep well. Give me your hand." + +All through this surprising speech of Robert's, which was a revelation of +one who had been previously dark to her, she had steeled her spirit as +she felt herself being borne upon unexpected rapids, and she marvelled +when she found her hand in his. + +Dismayed, as if caught in a trap, she said,-- + +"You know I've no love for you at all." + +"None--no doubt," he answered. + +The fit of verbal energy was expended, and he had become listless, though +he looked frankly at her and assumed the cheerfulness which was failing +within him. + +"I wish to remain as I am," she faltered, surprised again by the equally +astonishing recurrence of humility, and more spiritually subdued by it. +"I've no heart for a change. Father will understand. I am safe." + +She ended with a cry: "Oh! my dear, my own sister! I wish you were safe. +Get her here to me and I'll do what I can, if you're not hard on her. +She's so beautiful, she can't do wrong. My Dahlia's in some trouble. +Mr. Robert, you might really be her friend?" + +"Drop the Mister," said Robert. + +"Father will listen to you," she pleaded. "You won't leave us? Tell him +you know I am safe. But I haven't a feeling of any kind while my +sister's away. I will call you Robert, if you like." She reached her +hand forth. + +"That's right," he said, taking it with a show of heartiness: "that's a +beginning, I suppose." + +She shrank a little in his sensitive touch, and he added: "Oh never fear. +I've spoken out, and don't do the thing too often. Now you know me, +that's enough. I trust you, so trust me. I'll talk to your father. +I've got a dad of my own, who isn't so easily managed. You and I, +Rhoda--we're about the right size for a couple. There--don't be +frightened! I was only thinking--I'll let go your hand in a minute. If +Dahlia's to be found, I'll find her. Thank you for that squeeze. You'd +wake a dead man to life, if you wanted to. To-morrow I set about the +business. That's settled. Now your hand's loose. Are you going to say +good night? You must give me your hand again for that. What a rough +fellow I must seem to you! Different from the man you thought I was? +I'm just what you choose to make me, Rhoda; remember that. By heaven! go +at once, for you're an armful--" + +She took a candle and started for the door. + +"Aha! you can look fearful as a doe. Out! make haste!" + +In her hurry at his speeding gestures, the candle dropped; she was going +to pick it up, but as he approached, she stood away frightened. + +"One kiss, my girl," he said. "Don't keep me jealous as fire. One! and +I'm a plighted man. One!--or I shall swear you know what kisses are. +Why did you go out to meet that fellow? Do you think there's no danger +in it? Doesn't he go about boasting of it now, and saying--that girl! +But kiss me and I'll forget it; I'll forgive you. Kiss me only once, and +I shall be certain you don't care for him. That's the thought maddens me +outright. I can't bear it now I've seen you look soft. I'm stronger +than you, mind." He caught her by the waist. + +"Yes," Rhoda gasped, "you are. You are only a brute." + +"A brute's a lucky dog, then, for I've got you!" + +"Will you touch me?" + +"You're in my power." + +"It's a miserable thing, Robert." + +"Why don't you struggle, my girl? I shall kiss you in a minute." + +"You're never my friend again." + +"I'm not a gentleman, I suppose!" + +"Never! after this." + +"It isn't done. And first you're like a white rose, and next you're like +a red. Will you submit?" + +"Oh! shame!" Rhoda uttered. + +"Because I'm not a gentleman?" + +"You are not." + +"So, if I could make you a lady--eh? the lips 'd be ready in a trice. +You think of being made a lady--a lady!" + +His arm relaxed in the clutch of her figure. + +She got herself free, and said: "We saw Mr. Blancove at the theatre with +Dahlia." + +It was her way of meeting his accusation that she had cherished an +ambitious feminine dream. + +He, to hide a confusion that had come upon him, was righting the fallen +candle. + +"Now I know you can be relied on; you can defend yourself," he said, and +handed it to her, lighted. "You keep your kisses for this or that young +gentleman. Quite right. You really can defend yourself. That's all I +was up to. So let us hear that you forgive me. The door's open. You +won't be bothered by me any more; and don't hate me overmuch." + +"You might have learned to trust me without insulting me, Robert," she +said. + +"Do you fancy I'd take such a world of trouble for a kiss of your lips, +sweet as they are?" + +His blusterous beginning ended in a speculating glance at her mouth. + +She saw it would be wise to accept him in his present mood, and go; and +with a gentle "Good night," that might sound like pardon, she passed +through the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Next day, while Squire Blancove was superintending the laying down of +lines for a new carriage drive in his park, as he walked slowly up the +green slope he perceived Farmer Fleming, supported by a tall young man; +and when the pair were nearer, he had the gratification of noting +likewise that the worthy yeoman was very much bent, as with an acute +attack of his well-known chronic malady of a want of money. + +The squire greatly coveted the freehold of Queen Anne's Farm. He had +made offers to purchase it till he was tired, and had gained for himself +the credit of being at the bottom of numerous hypothetical cabals to +injure and oust the farmer from his possession. But if Naboth came with +his vineyard in his hand, not even Wrexby's rector (his quarrel with whom +haunted every turn in his life) could quote Scripture against him for +taking it at a proper valuation. + +The squire had employed his leisure time during service in church to +discover a text that might be used against him in the event of the +farmer's reduction to a state of distress, and his, the squire's, making +the most of it. On the contrary, according to his heathenish reading of +some of the patriarchal doings, there was more to be said in his favour +than not, if he increased his territorial property: nor could he, +throughout the Old Testament, hit on one sentence that looked like a +personal foe to his projects, likely to fit into the mouth of the rector +of Wrexby. + +"Well, farmer," he said, with cheerful familiarity, "winter crops looking +well? There's a good show of green in the fields from my windows, as +good as that land of yours will allow in heavy seasons." + +To this the farmer replied, "I've not heart or will to be round about, +squire. If you'll listen to me--here, or where you give command." + +"Has it anything to do with pen and paper, Fleming? In that case you'd +better be in my study," said the squire. + +"I don't know that it have. I don't know that it have." The farmer +sought Robert's face. + +"Best where there's no chance of interruption," Robert counselled, and +lifted his hat to the squire. + +"Eh? Well, you see I'm busy." The latter affected a particular +indifference, that in such cases, when well acted (as lords of money can +do--squires equally with usurers), may be valued at hundreds of pounds in +the pocket. "Can't you put it off? Come again to-morrow." + +"To-morrow's a day too late," said the farmer, gravely. Whereto +replying, "Oh! well, come along in, then," the squire led the way. + +"You're two to one, if it's a transaction," he said, nodding to Robert to +close the library door. "Take seats. Now then, what is it? And if I +make a face, just oblige me by thinking nothing about it, for my gout's +beginning to settle in the leg again, and shoots like an electric +telegraph from purgatory." + +He wheezed and lowered himself into his arm-chair; but the farmer and +Robert remained standing, and the farmer spoke:-- + +"My words are going to be few, squire. I've got a fact to bring to your +knowledge, and a question to ask." + +Surprise, exaggerated on his face by a pain he had anticipated, made the +squire glare hideously. + +"Confound it, that's what they say to a prisoner in the box. Here's a +murder committed:--Are you the guilty person? Fact and question! Well, +out with 'em, both together." + +"A father ain't responsible for the sins of his children," said the +farmer. + +"Well, that's a fact," the squire emphasized. "I've always maintained +it; but, if you go to your church, farmer--small blame to you if you +don't; that fellow who preaches there--I forget his name--stands out for +just the other way. You are responsible, he swears. Pay your son's +debts, and don't groan over it:--He spent the money, and you're the chief +debtor; that's his teaching. Well: go on. What's your question?" + +"A father's not to be held responsible for the sins of his children, +squire. My daughter's left me. She's away. I saw my daughter at the +theatre in London. She saw me, and saw her sister with me. She +disappeared. It's a hard thing for a man to be saying of his own flesh +and blood. She disappeared. She went, knowing her father's arms open to +her. She was in company with your son." + +The squire was thrumming on the arm of his chair. He looked up vaguely, +as if waiting for the question to follow, but meeting the farmer's +settled eyes, he cried, irritably, "Well, what's that to me?" + +"What's that to you, squire?" + +"Are you going to make me out responsible for my son's conduct? My son's +a rascal--everybody knows that. I paid his debts once, and I've finished +with him. Don't come to me about the fellow. If there's a greater curse +than the gout, it's a son." + +"My girl," said the farmer, "she's my flesh and blood, and I must find +her, and I'm here to ask you to make your son tell me where she's to be +found. Leave me to deal with that young man--leave you me! but I want my +girl." + +"But I can't give her to you," roared the squire, afflicted by his two +great curses at once. "Why do you come to me? I'm not responsible for +the doings of the dog. I'm sorry for you, if that's what you want to +know. Do you mean to say that my son took her away from your house?" + +"I don't do so, Mr. Blancove. I'm seeking for my daughter, and I see her +in company with your son." + +"Very well, very well," said the squire; "that shows his habits; I can't +say more. But what has it got to do with me?" + +The farmer looked helplessly at Robert. + +"No, no," the squire sung out, "no interlopers, no interpreting here. I +listen to you. My son--your daughter. I understand that, so far. It's +between us two. You've got a daughter who's gone wrong somehow: I'm +sorry to hear it. I've got a son who never went right; and it's no +comfort to me, upon my word. If you were to see the bills and the +letters I receive! but I don't carry my grievances to my neighbours. I +should think, Fleming, you'd do best, if it's advice you're seeking, to +keep it quiet. Don't make a noise about it. Neighbours' gossip I find +pretty well the worst thing a man has to bear, who's unfortunate enough +to own children." + +The farmer bowed his head with that bitter humbleness which characterized +his reception of the dealings of Providence toward him. + +"My neighbours 'll soon be none at all," he said. "Let 'em talk. I'm +not abusing you, Mr. Blancove. I'm a broken man: but I want my poor lost +girl, and, by God, responsible for your son or not, you must help me to +find her. She may be married, as she says. She mayn't be. But I must +find her." + +The squire hastily seized a scrap of paper on the table and wrote on it. + +"There!" he handed the paper to the farmer; "that's my son's address, +'Boyne's Bank, City, London.' Go to him there, and you'll find him +perched on a stool, and a good drubbing won't hurt him. You've my hearty +permission, I can assure you: you may say so. 'Boyne's Bank.' Anybody +will show you the place. He's a rascally clerk in the office, and +precious useful, I dare swear. Thrash him, if you think fit." + +"Ay," said the farmer, "Boyne's Bank. I've been there already. He's +absent from work, on a visit down into Hampshire, one of the young +gentlemen informed me; Fairly Park was the name of the place: but I came +to you, Mr. Blancove; for you're his father." + +"Well now, my good Fleming, I hope you think I'm properly punished for +that fact." The squire stood up with horrid contortions. + +Robert stepped in advance of the farmer. + +"Pardon me, sir," he said, though the squire met his voice with a +prodigious frown; "this would be an ugly business to talk about, as you +observe. It would hurt Mr. Fleming in these parts of the country, and he +would leave it, if he thought fit; but you can't separate your name from +your son's--begging you to excuse the liberty I take in mentioning it-- +not in public: and your son has the misfortune to be well known in one or +two places where he was quartered when in the cavalry. That matter of +the jeweller--" + +"Hulloa," the squire exclaimed, in a perturbation. + +"Why, sir, I know all about it, because I was a trooper in the regiment +your son, Mr. Algernon Blancove, quitted: and his name, if I may take +leave to remark so, won't bear printing. How far he's guilty before Mr. +Fleming we can't tell as yet; but if Mr. Fleming holds him guilty of an +offence, your son 'll bear the consequences, and what's done will be done +thoroughly. Proper counsel will be taken, as needn't be said. Mr. +Fleming applied to you first, partly for your sake as well as his own. +He can find friends, both to advise and to aid him." + +"You mean, sir," thundered the squire, "that he can find enemies of mine, +like that infernal fellow who goes by the title of Reverend, down below +there. That'll do, that will do; there's some extortion at the bottom of +this. You're putting on a screw." + +"We're putting on a screw, sir," said Robert, coolly. + +"Not a penny will you get by it." + +Robert flushed with heat of blood. + +"You don't wish you were a young man half so much as I do just now," he +remarked, and immediately they were in collision, for the squire made a +rush to the bell-rope, and Robert stopped him. "We're going," he said; +"we don't want man-servants to show us the way out. Now mark me, Mr. +Blancove, you've insulted an old man in his misery: you shall suffer for +it, and so shall your son, whom I know to be a rascal worthy of +transportation. You think Mr. Fleming came to you for money. Look at +this old man, whose only fault is that he's too full of kindness; he came +to you just for help to find his daughter, with whom your rascal of a son +was last seen, and you swear he's come to rob you of money. Don't you +know yourself a fattened cur, squire though you be, and called gentleman? +England's a good place, but you make England a hell to men of spirit. +Sit in your chair, and don't ever you, or any of you cross my path; and +speak a word to your servants before we're out of the house, and I stand +in the hall and give 'em your son's history, and make Wrexby stink in +your nostril, till you're glad enough to fly out of it. Now, Mr. +Fleming, there's no more to be done here; the game lies elsewhere." + +Robert took the farmer by the arm, and was marching out of the enemy's +territory in good order, when the squire, who had presented many +changeing aspects of astonishment and rage, arrested them with a call. +He began to say that he spoke to Mr. Fleming, and not to the young +ruffian of a bully whom the farmer had brought there: and then asked in a +very reasonable manner what he could do--what measures he could adopt to +aid the farmer in finding his child. Robert hung modestly in the +background while the farmer laboured on with a few sentences to explain +the case, and finally the squire said, that his foot permitting (it was +an almost pathetic reference to the weakness of flesh), he would go down +to Fairly on the day following and have a personal interview with his +son, and set things right, as far as it lay in his power, though he was +by no means answerable for a young man's follies. + +He was a little frightened by the farmer's having said that Dahlia, +according to her own declaration was married, and therefore himself the +more anxious to see Mr. Algernon, and hear the truth from his estimable +offspring, whom he again stigmatized as a curse terrible to him as his +gouty foot, but nevertheless just as little to be left to his own +devices. The farmer bowed to these observations; as also when the squire +counselled him, for his own sake, not to talk of his misfortune all over +the parish. + +"I'm not a likely man for that, squire; but there's no telling where +gossips get their crumbs. It's about. It's about." + +"About my son?" cried the squire. + +"My daughter!" + +"Oh, well, good-day," the squire resumed more cheerfully. "I'll go down +to Fairly, and you can't ask more than that." + +When the farmer was out of the house and out of hearing, he rebuked +Robert for the inconsiderate rashness of his behaviour, and pointed out +how he, the farmer, by being patient and peaceful, had attained to the +object of his visit. Robert laughed without defending himself. + +"I shouldn't ha' known ye," the farmer repeated frequently; "I shouldn't +ha' known ye, Robert." + +"No, I'm a trifle changed, may be," Robert agreed. "I'm going to claim a +holiday of you. I've told Rhoda that if Dahlia's to be found, I'll find +her, and I can't do it by sticking here. Give me three weeks. The +land's asleep. Old Gammon can hardly turn a furrow the wrong way. +There's nothing to do, which is his busiest occupation, when he's not +interrupted at it." + +"Mas' Gammon's a rare old man," said the farmer, emphatically. + +"So I say. Else, how would you see so many farms flourishing!" + +"Come, Robert: you hit th' old man hard; you should learn to forgive." + +"So I do, and a telling blow's a man's best road to charity. I'd forgive +the squire and many another, if I had them within two feet of my fist." + +"Do you forgive my girl Rhoda for putting of you off?" + +Robert screwed in his cheek. + +"Well, yes, I do," he said. "Only it makes me feel thirsty, that's all." + +The farmer remembered this when they had entered the farm. + +"Our beer's so poor, Robert," he made apology; "but Rhoda shall get you +some for you to try, if you like. Rhoda, Robert's solemn thirsty." + +"Shall I?" said Rhoda, and she stood awaiting his bidding. + +"I'm not a thirsty subject," replied Robert. "You know I've avoided +drink of any kind since I set foot on this floor. But when I drink," he +pitched his voice to a hard, sparkling heartiness, "I drink a lot, and +the stuff must be strong. I'm very much obliged to you, Miss Rhoda, for +what you're so kind as to offer to satisfy my thirst, and you can't give +better, and don't suppose that I'm complaining; but your father's right, +it is rather weak, and wouldn't break the tooth of my thirst if I drank +at it till Gammon left off thinking about his dinner." + +With that he announced his approaching departure. + +The farmer dropped into his fireside chair, dumb and spiritless. A shadow +was over the house, and the inhabitants moved about their domestic +occupations silent as things that feel the thunder-cloud. Before sunset +Robert was gone on his long walk to the station, and Rhoda felt a woman's +great envy of the liberty of a man, who has not, if it pleases him not, +to sit and eat grief among familiar images, in a home that furnishes its +altar-flame. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Fairly, Lord Elling's seat in Hampshire, lay over the Warbeach river; a +white mansion among great oaks, in view of the summer sails and winter +masts of the yachting squadron. The house was ruled, during the +congregation of the Christmas guests, by charming Mrs. Lovell, who +relieved the invalid Lady of the house of the many serious cares +attending the reception of visitors, and did it all with ease. Under her +sovereignty the place was delightful, and if it was by repute pleasanter +to young men than to any other class, it will be admitted that she +satisfied those who are loudest in giving tongue to praise. + +Edward and Algernon journeyed down to Fairly together, after the +confidence which the astute young lawyer had been compelled to repose in +his cousin. Sir William Blancove was to be at Fairly, and it was at his +father's pointed request that Edward had accepted Mrs. Lovell's +invitation. Half in doubt as to the lady's disposition toward him, +Edward eased his heart with sneers at the soft, sanguinary graciousness +they were to expect, and racked mythology for spiteful comparisons; while +Algernon vehemently defended her with a battering fire of British +adjectives in superlative. He as much as hinted, under instigation, that +he was entitled to defend her; and his claim being by-and-by yawningly +allowed by Edward, and presuming that he now had Edward in his power and +need not fear him, he exhibited his weakness in the guise of a costly +gem, that he intended to present to Mrs. Lovell--an opal set in a cross +pendant from a necklace; a really fine opal, coquetting with the lights +of every gem that is known: it shot succinct red flashes, and green, and +yellow; the emerald, the amethyst, the topaz lived in it, and a remote +ruby; it was veined with lightning hues, and at times it slept in a milky +cloud, innocent of fire, quite maidenlike. + +"That will suit her," was Edward's remark. + +"I didn't want to get anything common," said Algernon, making the gem +play before his eyes. + +"A pretty stone," said Edward. + +"Do you think so?" + +"Very pretty indeed." + +"Harlequin pattern." + +"To be presented to Columbine!" + +"The Harlequin pattern is of the best sort, you know. Perhaps you like +the watery ones best? This is fresh from Russia. There's a set I've my +eye on. I shall complete it in time. I want Peggy Lovell to wear the +jolliest opals in the world. It's rather nice, isn't it?" + +"It's a splendid opal," said Edward. + +"She likes opals," said Algernon. + +"She'll take your meaning at once," said Edward. + +"How? I'll be hanged if I know what my meaning is, Ned." + +"Don't you know the signification of your gift?" + +"Not a bit." + +"Oh! you'll be Oriental when you present it." + +"The deuce I shall!" + +"It means, 'You're the prettiest widow in the world.'" + +"So she is. I'll be right there, old boy." + +"And, 'You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake; you're everything +to everybody; not half so innocent as you look: you're green as jealousy, +red as murder, yellow as jaundice, and put on the whiteness of a virgin +when you ought to be blushing like a penitent.' In short, 'You have no +heart of your own, and you pretend to possess half a dozen: you're devoid +of one steady beam, and play tricks with every scale of colour: you're an +arrant widow, and that's what you are.' An eloquent gift, Algy." + +"Gad, if it means all that, it'll be rather creditable to me," said +Algernon. "Do opals mean widows?" + +"Of course," was the answer. + +"Well, she is a widow, and I suppose she's going to remain one, for she's +had lots of offers. If I marry a girl I shall never like her half as +much as Peggy Lovell. She's done me up for every other woman living. +She never lets me feel a fool with her; and she has a way, by Jove, of +looking at me, and letting me know she's up to my thoughts and isn't +angry. What's the use of my thinking of her at all? She'd never go to +the Colonies, and live in a log but and make cheeses, while I tore about +on horseback gathering cattle." + +"I don't think she would," observed Edward, emphatically; "I don't think +she would." + +"And I shall never have money. Confound stingy parents! It's a question +whether I shall get Wrexby: there's no entail. I'm heir to the +governor's temper and his gout, I dare say. He'll do as he likes with +the estate. I call it beastly unfair." + +Edward asked how much the opal had cost. + +"Oh, nothing," said Algernon; "that is, I never pay for jewellery." + +Edward was curious to know how he managed to obtain it. + +"Why, you see," Algernon explained, "they, the jewellers--I've got two or +three in hand--the fellows are acquainted with my position, and they +speculate on my expectations. There is no harm in that if they like it. +I look at their trinkets, and say, 'I've no money;' and they say, 'Never +mind;' and I don't mind much. The understanding is, that I pay them when +I inherit." + +"In gout and bad temper?" + +"Gad, if I inherit nothing else, they'll have lots of that for +indemnification. It's a good system, Ned; it enables a young fellow like +me to get through the best years of his life--which I take to be his +youth--without that squalid poverty bothering him. You can make presents, +and wear a pin or a ring, if it takes your eye. You look well, and you +make yourself agreeable; and I see nothing to complain of in that." + +"The jewellers, then, have established an institution to correct one of +the errors of Providence." + +"Oh! put it in your long-winded way, if you like," said Algernon; "all I +know is, that I should often have wanted a five-pound note, if--that is, +if I hadn't happened to be dressed like a gentleman. With your +prospects, Ned, I should propose to charming Peggy tomorrow morning +early. We mustn't let her go out of the family. If I can't have her, +I'd rather you would." + +"You forget the incumbrances on one side," said Edward, his face +darkening. + +"Oh! that's all to be managed," Algernon rallied him. "Why, Ned, you'll +have twenty thousand a-year, if you have a penny; and you'll go into +Parliament, and give dinners, and a woman like Peggy Lovell 'd intrigue +for you like the deuce." + +"A great deal too like," Edward muttered. + +"As for that pretty girl," continued Algernon; but Edward peremptorily +stopped all speech regarding Dahlia. His desire was, while he made +holiday, to shut the past behind a brazen gate; which being communicated +sympathetically to his cousin, the latter chimed to it in boisterous +shouts of anticipated careless jollity at Fairly Park, crying out how +they would hunt and snap fingers at Jews, and all mortal sorrows, and +have a fortnight, or three weeks, perhaps a full month, of the finest +life possible to man, with good horses, good dinners, good wines, good +society, at command, and a queen of a woman to rule and order everything. +Edward affected a disdainful smile at the prospect; but was in reality +the weaker of the two in his thirst for it. + +They arrived at Fairly in time to dress for dinner, and in the +drawing-room Mrs. Lovell sat to receive them. She looked up to Edward's +face an imperceptible half-second longer than the ordinary form of +welcome accords--one of the looks which are nothing at all when there is +no spiritual apprehension between young people, and are so much when +there is. To Algernon, who was gazing opals on her, she simply gave her +fingers. At her right hand, was Sir John Capes, her antique devotee; a +pure milky-white old gentleman, with sparkling fingers, who played Apollo +to his Daphne, and was out of breath. Lord Suckling, a boy with a +boisterous constitution, and a guardsman, had his place near her left +hand, as if ready to seize it at the first whisper of encouragement or +opportunity. A very little lady of seventeen, Miss Adeline Gosling, +trembling with shyness under a cover of demureness, fell to Edward's lot +to conduct down to dinner, where he neglected her disgracefully. His +father, Sir William, was present at the table, and Lord Elling, with whom +he was in repute as a talker and a wit. Quickened with his host's +renowned good wine (and the bare renown of a wine is inspiriting), Edward +pressed to be brilliant. He had an epigrammatic turn, and though his +mind was prosaic when it ran alone, he could appear inventive and +fanciful with the rub of other minds. Now, at a table where good talking +is cared for, the triumphs of the excelling tongue are not for a moment +to be despised, even by the huge appetite of the monster Vanity. For a +year, Edward had abjured this feast. Before the birds appeared and the +champagne had ceased to make its circle, he felt that he was now at home +again, and that the term of his wandering away from society was one of +folly. He felt the joy and vigour of a creature returned to his element. +Why had he ever quitted it? Already he looked back upon Dahlia from a +prodigious distance. He knew that there was something to be smoothed +over; something written in the book of facts which had to be smeared out, +and he seemed to do it, while he drank the babbling wine and heard +himself talk. Not one man at that table, as he reflected, would consider +the bond which held him in any serious degree binding. A lady is one +thing, and a girl of the class Dahlia had sprung from altogether another. +He could not help imagining the sort of appearance she would make there; +and the thought even was a momentary clog upon his tongue. How he used +to despise these people! Especially he had despised the young men as +brainless cowards in regard to their views of women and conduct toward +them. All that was changed. He fancied now that they, on the contrary, +would despise him, if only they could be aware of the lingering sense he +entertained of his being in bondage under a sacred obligation to a +farmer's daughter. + +But he had one thing to discover, and that was, why Sir William had made +it a peculiar request that he should come to meet him here. Could the +desire possibly be to reconcile him with Mrs. Lovell? His common sense +rejected the idea at once: Sir William boasted of her wit and tact, and +admired her beauty, but Edward remembered his having responded tacitly to +his estimate of her character, and Sir William was not the man to court +the alliance of his son with a woman like Mrs. Lovell. He perceived that +his father and the fair widow frequently took counsel together. Edward +laughed at the notion that the grave senior had himself become +fascinated, but without utterly scouting it, until he found that the +little lady whom he had led to dinner the first day, was an heiress; and +from that, and other indications, he exactly divined the nature of his +father's provident wishes. But this revelation rendered Mrs. Lovell's +behaviour yet more extraordinary. Could it be credited that she was +abetting Sir William's schemes with all her woman's craft? "Has she," +thought Edward, "become so indifferent to me as to care for my welfare?" +He determined to put her to the test. He made love to Adeline Gosling. +Nothing that he did disturbed the impenetrable complacency of Mrs. +Lovell. She threw them together as she shuffled the guests. She really +seemed to him quite indifferent enough to care for his welfare. It was a +point in the mysterious ways of women, or of widows, that Edward's +experience had not yet come across. All the parties immediately +concerned were apparently so desperately acquiescing in his suit, that he +soon grew uneasy. Mrs. Lovell not only shuffled him into places with the +raw heiress, but with the child's mother; of whom he spoke to Algernon as +of one too strongly breathing of matrimony to appease the cravings of an +eclectic mind. + +"Make the path clear for me, then," said Algernon, "if you don't like the +girl. Pitch her tales about me. Say, I've got a lot in me, though I +don't let it out. The game's up between you and Peggy Lovell, that's +clear. She don't forgive you, my boy." + +"Ass!" muttered Edward, seeing by the light of his perception, that he +was too thoroughly forgiven. + +A principal charm of the life at Fairly to him was that there was no one +complaining. No one looked reproach at him. If a lady was pale and +reserved, she did not seem to accuse him, and to require coaxing. All +faces here were as light as the flying moment, and did not carry the +shadowy weariness of years, like that burdensome fair face in the London +lodging-house, to which the Fates had terribly attached themselves. So, +he was gay. He closed, as it were, a black volume, and opened a new and +a bright one. Young men easily fancy that they may do this, and that +when the black volume is shut the tide is stopped. Saying, "I was a +fool," they believe they have put an end to the foolishness. What father +teaches them that a human act once set in motion flows on for ever to the +great account? Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are. +Comfortable Youth thinks otherwise. + +The days at a well-ordered country-house, where a divining lady rules, +speed to the measure of a waltz, in harmonious circles, dropping like +crystals into the gulfs of Time, and appearing to write nothing in his +book. Not a single hinge of existence is heard to creak. There is no +after-dinner bill. You are waited on, without being elbowed by the +humanity of your attendants. It is a civilized Arcadia. Only, do not +desire, that you may not envy. Accept humbly what rights of citizenship +are accorded to you upon entering. Discard the passions when you cross +the threshold. To breathe and to swallow merely, are the duties which +should prescribe your conduct; or, such is the swollen condition of the +animal in this enchanted region, that the spirit of man becomes +dangerously beset. + +Edward breathed and swallowed, and never went beyond the prescription, +save by talking. No other junior could enter the library, without +encountering the scorn of his elders; so he enjoyed the privilege of +hearing all the scandal, and his natural cynicism was plentifully fed. +It was more of a school to him than he knew. + +These veterans, in their arm-chairs, stripped the bloom from life, and +showed it to be bare bones: They took their wisdom for an experience of +the past: they were but giving their sensations in the present. Not to +perceive this, is Youth's, error when it hears old gentlemen talking at +their ease. + +On the third morning of their stay at Fairly, Algernon came into Edward's +room with a letter in his hand. + +"There! read that!" he said. "It isn't ill-luck; it's infernal +persecution! What, on earth!--why, I took a close cab to the station. +You saw me get out of it. I'll swear no creditor of mine knew I was +leaving London. My belief is that the fellows who give credit have spies +about at every railway terminus in the kingdom. They won't give me three +days' peace. It's enough to disgust any man with civilized life; on my +soul, it is!" + +Edward glanced at the superscription of the letter. "Not posted," he +remarked. + +"No; delivered by some confounded bailiff, who's been hounding me." + +"Bailiffs don't generally deal in warnings." + +"Will you read it!" Algernon shouted. + +The letter ran thus:-- + + "Mr. Algernon Blancove,-- + + "The writer of this intends taking the first opportunity of meeting + you, and gives you warning, you will have to answer his question + with a Yes or a No; and speak from your conscience. The + respectfulness of his behaviour to you as a gentleman will depend + upon that." + +Algernon followed his cousin's eye down to the last letter in the page. + +"What do you think of it?" he asked eagerly. + +Edward's broad thin-lined brows were drawn down in gloom. Mastering some +black meditation in his brain, he answered Algernon's yells for an +opinion,-- + +"I think--well, I think bailiffs have improved in their manners, and show +you they are determined to belong to the social march in an age of +universal progress. Nothing can be more comforting." + +"But, suppose this fellow comes across me?" + +"Don't know him." + +"Suppose he insists on knowing me?" + +"Don't know yourself." + +"Yes; but hang it! if he catches hold of me?" + +"Shake him off." + +"Suppose he won't let go?" + +"Cut him with your horsewhip." + +"You think it's about a debt, then?" + +"Intimidation, evidently." + +"I shall announce to him that the great Edward Blancove is not to be +intimidated. You'll let me borrow your name, old Ned. I've stood by you +in my time. As for leaving Fairly, I tell you I can't. It's too +delightful to be near Peggy Lovell." + +Edward smiled with a peculiar friendliness, and Algernon went off, very +well contented with his cousin. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Within a mile of Fairly Park lay the farm of another yeoman; but he was +of another character. The Hampshireman was a farmer of renown in his +profession; fifth of a family that had cultivated a small domain of one +hundred and seventy acres with sterling profit, and in a style to make +Sutton the model of a perfect farm throughout the country. Royal eyes +had inspected his pigs approvingly; Royal wits had taken hints from +Jonathan Eccles in matters agricultural; and it was his comforting joke +that he had taught his Prince good breeding. In return for the service, +his Prince had transformed a lusty Radical into a devoted Royalist. +Framed on the walls of his parlours were letters from his Prince, +thanking him for specimen seeds and worthy counsel: veritable autograph +letters of the highest value. The Prince had steamed up the salt river, +upon which the Sutton harvests were mirrored, and landed on a spot marked +in honour of the event by a broad grey stone; and from that day Jonathan +Eccles stood on a pinnacle of pride, enabling him to see horizons of +despondency hitherto unknown to him. For he had a son, and the son was a +riotous devil, a most wild young fellow, who had no taste for a farmer's +life, and openly declared his determination not to perpetuate the Sutton +farm in the hands of the Eccleses, by running off one day and entering +the ranks of the British army. + +Those framed letters became melancholy objects for contemplation, when +Jonathan thought that no posterity of his would point them out gloryingly +in emulation. Man's aim is to culminate; but it is the saddest thing in +the world to feel that we have accomplished it. Mr. Eccles shrugged with +all the philosophy he could summon, and transferred his private +disappointment to his country, whose agricultural day was, he said, +doomed. "We shall be beaten by those Yankees." He gave Old England +twenty years of continued pre-eminence (due to the impetus of the present +generation of Englishmen), and then, said he, the Yankees will flood the +market. No more green pastures in Great Britain; no pretty clean-footed +animals; no yellow harvests; but huge chimney pots everywhere; black +earth under black vapour, and smoke-begrimed faces. In twenty years' +time, sooty England was to be a gigantic manufactory, until the Yankees +beat us out of that field as well; beyond which Jonathan Eccles did not +care to spread any distinct border of prophecy; merely thanking the Lord +that he should then be under grass. The decay of our glory was to be +edged with blood; Jonathan admitted that there would be stuff in the +fallen race to deliver a sturdy fight before they went to their doom. + +For this prodigious curse, England had to thank young Robert, the erratic +son of Jonathan. + +It was now two years since Robert had inherited a small legacy of money +from an aunt, and spent it in waste, as the farmer bitterly supposed. He +was looking at some immense seed-melons in his garden, lying about in +morning sunshine--a new feed for sheep, of his own invention,--when the +call of the wanderer saluted his ears, and he beheld his son Robert at +the gate. + +"Here I am, sir," Robert sang out from the exterior. + +"Stay there, then," was his welcome. + +They were alike in their build and in their manner of speech. The accost +and the reply sounded like reports from the same pistol. The old man was +tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular--a grey edition of the son, upon +whose disorderly attire he cast a glance, while speaking, with settled +disgust. Robert's necktie streamed loose; his hair was uncombed; a +handkerchief dangled from his pocket. He had the look of the prodigal, +returned with impudence for his portion instead of repentance. + +"I can't see how you are, sir, from this distance," said Robert, boldly +assuming his privilege to enter. + +"Are you drunk?" Jonathan asked, as Robert marched up to him. + +"Give me your hand, sir." + +"Give me an answer first. Are you drunk?" + +Robert tried to force the complacent aspect of a mind unabashed, but felt +that he made a stupid show before that clear-headed, virtuously-living +old, man of iron nerves. The alternative to flying into a passion, was +the looking like a fool. + +"Come, father," he said, with a miserable snigger, like a yokel's smile; +"here I am at last. I don't say, kill the fatted calf, and take a lesson +from Scripture, but give me your hand. I've done no man harm but myself- +-damned if I've done a mean thing anywhere! and there's no shame to you +in shaking your son's hand after a long absence." + +Jonathan Eccles kept both hands firmly in his pockets. + +"Are you drunk?" he repeated. + +Robert controlled himself to answer, "I'm not." + +"Well, then, just tell me when you were drunk last." + +"This is a pleasant fatherly greeting!" Robert interjected. + +"You get no good by fighting shy of a simple question, Mr. Bob," said +Jonathan. + +Robert cried querulously, "I don't want to fight shy of a simple +question." + +"Well, then; when were you drunk last? answer me that." + +"Last night." + +Jonathan drew his hand from his pocket to thump his leg. + +"I'd have sworn it!" + +All Robert's assurance had vanished in a minute, and he stood like a +convicted culprit before his father. + +"You know, sir, I don't tell lies. I was drunk last night. I couldn't +help it." + +"No more could the little boy." + +"I was drunk last night. Say, I'm a beast." + +"I shan't!" exclaimed Jonathan, making his voice sound as a defence to +this vile charge against the brutish character. + +"Say, I'm worse than a beast, then," cried Robert, in exasperation. +"Take my word that it hasn't happened to me to be in that state for a +year and more. Last night I was mad. I can't give you any reasons. I +thought I was cured but I've trouble in my mind, and a tide swims you +over the shallows--so I felt. Come, sir--father, don't make me mad +again." + +"Where did you get the liquor?" inquired Jonathan. + +"I drank at 'The Pilot.'" + +"Ha! there's talk there of 'that damned old Eccles' for a month to come-- +'the unnatural parent.' How long have you been down here?" + +"Eight and twenty hours." + +"Eight and twenty hours. When are you going?" + +"I want lodging for a night." + +"What else?" + +"The loan of a horse that'll take a fence." + +"Go on." + +"And twenty pounds." + +"Oh!" said Jonathan. "If farming came as easy to you as face, you'd be a +prime agriculturalist. Just what I thought! What's become of that money +your aunt Jane was fool enough to bequeath to you?" + +"I've spent it." + +"Are you a Deserter?" + +For a moment Robert stood as if listening, and then white grew his face, +and he swayed and struck his hands together. His recent intoxication had +unmanned him. + +"Go in--go in," said his father in some concern, though wrath was +predominant. + +"Oh, make your mind quiet about me." Robert dropped his arms. "I'm +weakened somehow--damned weak, I am--I feel like a woman when my father +asks me if I've been guilty of villany. Desert? I wouldn't desert from +the hulks. Hear the worst, and this is the worst: I've got no money--I +don't owe a penny, but I haven't got one." + +"And I won't give you one," Jonathan appended; and they stood facing one +another in silence. + +A squeaky voice was heard from the other side of the garden hedge of +clipped yew. + +"Hi! farmer, is that the missing young man?" and presently a neighbour, +by name John Sedgett, came trotting through the gate, and up the garden +path. + +"I say," he remarked, "here's a rumpus. Here's a bobbery up at Fairly. +Oh! Bob Eccles! Bob Eccles! At it again!" + +Mr. Sedgett shook his wallet of gossip with an enjoying chuckle. He was a +thin-faced creature, rheumy of eye, and drawing his breath as from a +well; the ferret of the village for all underlying scandal and tattle, +whose sole humanity was what he called pitifully 'a peakin' at his chest, +and who had retired from his business of grocer in the village upon the +fortune brought to him in the energy and capacity of a third wife to +conduct affairs, while he wandered up and down and knitted people +together--an estimable office in a land where your house is so grievously +your castle. + +"What the devil have you got in you now?" Jonathan cried out to him. + +Mr. Sedgett was seized by his complaint and demanded commiseration, but, +recovering, he chuckled again. + +"Oh, Bob Eccles! Don't you never grow older? And the first day down +among us again, too. Why, Bob, as a military man, you ought to +acknowledge your superiors. Why, Stephen Bilton, the huntsman, says, +Bob, you pulled the young gentleman off his horse--you on foot, and him +mounted. I'd ha' given pounds to be there. And ladies present! Lord +help us! I'm glad you're returned, though. These melons of the +farmer's, they're a wonderful invention; people are speaking of 'em right +and left, and says, says they, Farmer Eccles, he's best farmer going-- +Hampshire ought to be proud of him--he's worth two of any others: that +they are fine ones! And you're come back to keep 'em up, eh, Bob? Are +ye, though, my man?" + +"Well, here I am, Mr. Sedgett," said Robert, "and talking to my father." + +"Oh! I wouldn't be here to interrupt ye for the world." Mr. Sedgett made +a show of retiring, but Jonathan insisted upon his disburdening himself +of his tale, saying: "Damn your raw beginnings, Sedgett! What's been up? +Nobody can hurt me." + +"That they can't, neighbour; nor Bob neither, as far as stand up man to +man go. I give him three to one--Bob Eccles! He took 'em when a boy. +He may, you know, he may have the law agin him, and by George! if he do-- +why, a man's no match for the law. No use bein' a hero to the law. The +law masters every man alive; and there's law in everything, neighbour +Eccles; eh, sir? Your friend, the Prince, owns to it, as much as you or +me. But, of course, you know what Bob's been doing. What I dropped in +to ask was, why did ye do it, Bob? Why pull the young gentleman off his +horse? I'd ha' given pounds to be there!" + +"Pounds o' tallow candles don't amount to much," quoth Robert. + +"That's awful bad brandy at 'The Pilot,'" said Mr. Sedgett, venomously. + +"Were you drunk when you committed this assault?" Jonathan asked his son. + +"I drank afterwards," Robert replied. + +"'Pilot' brandy's poor consolation," remarked Mr. Sedgett. + +Jonathan had half a mind to turn his son out of the gate, but the +presence of Sedgett advised him that his doings were naked to the world. + +"You kicked up a shindy in the hunting-field--what about? Who mounted +ye?" + +Robert remarked that he had been on foot. + +"On foot--eh? on foot!" Jonathan speculated, unable to realize the image +of his son as a foot-man in the hunting-field, or to comprehend the +insolence of a pedestrian who should dare to attack a mounted huntsman. +"You were on foot? The devil you were on foot! Foot? And caught a man +out of his saddle?" + +Jonathan gave up the puzzle. He laid out his fore finger decisively,-- + +"If it's an assault, mind, you stand damages. My land gives and my land +takes my money, and no drunken dog lives on the produce. A row in the +hunting-field's un-English, I call it." + +"So it is, sir," said Robert. + +"So it be, neighbour," said Mr. Sedgett. + +Whereupon Robert took his arm, and holding the scraggy wretch forward, +commanded him to out with what he knew. + +"Oh, I don't know no more than what I've told you." Mr. Sedgett twisted +a feeble remonstrance of his bones, that were chiefly his being, at the +gripe; "except that you got hold the horse by the bridle, and wouldn't +let him go, because the young gentleman wouldn't speak as a gentleman, +and--oh! don't squeeze so hard--" + +"Out with it!" cried Robert. + +"And you said, Steeve Bilton said, you said, 'Where is she?' you said, +and he swore, and you swore, and a lady rode up, and you pulled, and she +sang out, and off went the gentleman, and Steeve said she said, "For +shame."" + +"And it was the truest word spoken that day!" Robert released him. "You +don't know much, Mr. Sedgett; but it's enough to make me explain the +cause to my father, and, with your leave, I'll do so." + +Mr. Sedgett remarked: "By all means, do;" and rather preferred that his +wits should be accused of want of brightness, than that he should miss a +chance of hearing the rich history of the scandal and its origin. +Something stronger than a hint sent him off at a trot, hugging in his +elbows. + +"The postman won't do his business quicker than Sedgett 'll tap this tale +upon every door in the parish," said Jonathan. + +"I can only say I'm sorry, for your sake;" Robert was expressing his +contrition, when his father caught him up,-- + +"Who can hurt me?--my sake? Have I got the habits of a sot?--what you'd +call 'a beast!' but I know the ways o' beasts, and if you did too, you +wouldn't bring them in to bear your beastly sins. Who can hurt me?-- +You've been quarrelling with this young gentleman about a woman--did you +damage him?" + +"If knuckles could do it, I should have brained him, sir," said Robert. + +"You struck him, and you got the best of it?" + +"He got the worst of it any way, and will again." + +"Then the devil take you for a fool! why did you go and drink I could +understand it if you got licked. Drown your memory, then, if that filthy +soaking's to your taste; but why, when you get the prize, we'll say, you +go off headlong into a manure pond?--There! except that you're a damned +idiot!" Jonathan struck the air, as to observe that it beat him, but for +the foregoing elucidation: thundering afresh, "Why did you go and drink?" + +"I went, sir, I went--why did I go?" Robert slapped his hand despairingly +to his forehead. "What on earth did I go for?--because I'm at sea, I +suppose. Nobody cares for me. I'm at sea, and no rudder to steer me. I +suppose that's it. So, I drank. I thought it best to take spirits on +board. No; this was the reason--I remember: that lady, whoever she was, +said something that stung me. I held the fellow under her eyes, and +shook him, though she was begging me to let him off. Says she--but I've +drunk it clean out of my mind." + +"There, go in and look at yourself in the glass," said Jonathan. + +"Give me your hand first,"--Robert put his own out humbly. + +"I'll be hanged if I do," said Jonathan firmly. "Bed and board you shall +have while I'm alive, and a glass to look at yourself in; but my hand's +for decent beasts. Move one way or t' other: take your choice." + +Seeing Robert hesitate, he added, "I shall have a damned deal more +respect for you if you toddle." He waved his hand away from the +premises. + +"I'm sorry you've taken so to swearing of late, sir," said Robert. + +"Two flints strike fire, my lad. When you keep distant, I'm quiet enough +in my talk to satisfy your aunt Anne." + +"Look here, sir; I want to make use of you, so I'll go in." + +"Of course you do," returned Jonathan, not a whit displeased by his son's +bluntness; "what else is a father good for? I let you know the limit, +and that's a brick wall; jump it, if you can. Don't fancy it's your aunt +Jane you're going in to meet." + +Robert had never been a favourite with his aunt Anne, who was Jonathan's +housekeeper. + +"No, poor old soul! and may God bless her in heaven!" he cried. + +"For leaving you what you turned into a thundering lot of liquor to +consume--eh?" + +"For doing all in her power to make a man of me; and she was close on it- +-kind, good old darling, that she was! She got me with that money of +hers to the best footing I've been on yet--bless her heart, or her +memory, or whatever a poor devil on earth may bless an angel for! But +here I am." + +The fever in Robert blazed out under a pressure of extinguishing tears. + +"There, go along in," said Jonathan, who considered drunkenness to be the +main source of water in a man's eyes. "It's my belief you've been at it +already this morning." + +Robert passed into the house in advance of his father, whom he quite +understood and appreciated. There was plenty of paternal love for him, +and a hearty smack of the hand, and the inheritance of the farm, when he +turned into the right way. Meantime Jonathan was ready to fulfil his +parental responsibility, by sheltering, feeding, and not publicly abusing +his offspring, of whose spirit he would have had a higher opinion if +Robert had preferred, since he must go to the deuce, to go without +troubling any of his relatives; as it was, Jonathan submitted to the +infliction gravely. Neither in speech nor in tone did he solicit from +the severe maiden, known as Aunt Anne, that snub for the wanderer whom he +introduced, which, when two are agreed upon the infamous character of a +third, through whom they are suffering, it is always agreeable to hear. +He said, "Here, Anne; here's Robert. He hasn't breakfasted." + +"He likes his cold bath beforehand," said Robert, presenting his cheek to +the fleshless, semi-transparent woman. + +Aunt Anne divided her lips to pronounce a crisp, subdued "Ow!" to +Jonathan after inspecting Robert; and she shuddered at sight of Robert, +and said "Ow!" repeatedly, by way of an interjectory token of +comprehension, to all that was uttered; but it was a horrified "No!" when +Robert's cheek pushed nearer. + +"Then, see to getting some breakfast for him," said Jonathan. "You're not +anyway bound to kiss a drunken--" + +"Dog's the word, sir," Robert helped him. "Dogs can afford it. I never +saw one in that state; so they don't lose character." + +He spoke lightly, but dejection was in his attitude. When his aunt Anne +had left the room, he exclaimed,-- + +"By jingo! women make you feel it, by some way that they have. She's a +religious creature. She smells the devil in me." + +"More like, the brandy," his father responded. + +"Well! I'm on the road, I'm on the road!" Robert fetched a sigh. + +"I didn't make the road," said his father. + +"No, sir; you didn't. Work hard: sleep sound that's happiness. I've +known it for a year. You're the man I'd imitate, if I could. The devil +came first the brandy's secondary. I was quiet so long. I thought +myself a safe man." + +He sat down and sent his hair distraught with an effort at smoothing it. + +"Women brought the devil into the world first. It's women who raise the +devil in us, and why they--" + +He thumped the table just as his aunt Anne was preparing to spread the +cloth. + +"Don't be frightened, woman," said Jonathan, seeing her start fearfully +back. "You take too many cups of tea, morning and night--hang the +stuff!" + +"Never, never till now have you abused me, Jonathan," she whimpered, +severely. + +"I don't tell you to love him; but wait on him. That's all. And I'll +about my business. Land and beasts--they answer to you." + +Robert looked up. + +"Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things. When next I go to +church, I shall know what old Adam felt. Go along, sir. I shall break +nothing in the house." + +"You won't go, Jonathan?" begged the trembling spinster. + +"Give him some of your tea, and strong, and as much of it as he can +take--he wants bringing down," was Jonathan's answer; and casting a +glance at one of the framed letters, he strode through the doorway, and +Aunt Anne was alone with the flushed face and hurried eyes of her nephew, +who was to her little better than a demon in the flesh. But there was a +Bible in the room. + +An hour later, Robert was mounted and riding to the meet of hounds. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A single night at the Pilot Inn had given life and vigour to Robert's old +reputation in Warbeach village, as the stoutest of drinkers and dear +rascals throughout a sailor-breeding district, where Dibdin was still +thundered in the ale-house, and manhood in a great degree measured by the +capacity to take liquor on board, as a ship takes ballast. There was a +profound affectation of deploring the sad fact that he drank as hard as +ever, among the men, and genuine pity expressed for him by the women of +Warbeach; but his fame was fresh again. As the Spring brings back its +flowers, Robert's presence revived his youthful deeds. There had not +been a boxer in the neighbourhood like Robert Eccles, nor such a champion +in all games, nor, when he set himself to it, such an invincible drinker. +It was he who thrashed the brute, Nic Sedgett, for stabbing with his +clasp-knife Harry Boulby, son of the landlady of the Pilot Inn; thrashed +him publicly, to the comfort of all Warbeach. He had rescued old Dame +Garble from her burning cottage, and made his father house the old +creature, and worked at farming, though he hated it, to pay for her +subsistence. He vindicated the honour of Warbeach by drinking a match +against a Yorkshire skipper till four o'clock in the morning, when it was +a gallant sight, my boys, to see Hampshire steadying the defeated +North-countryman on his astonished zigzag to his flattish-bottomed +billyboy, all in the cheery sunrise on the river--yo-ho! ahoy! + +Glorious Robert had tried, first the sea, and then soldiering. Now let us +hope he'll settle to farming, and follow his rare old father's ways, and +be back among his own people for good. So chimed the younger ones, and +many of the elder. + +Danish blood had settled round Warbeach. To be a really popular hero +anywhere in Britain, a lad must still, I fear, have something of a +Scandinavian gullet; and if, in addition to his being a powerful drinker, +he is pleasant in his cups, and can sing, and forgive, be freehanded, and +roll out the grand risky phrases of a fired brain, he stamps himself, in +the apprehension of his associates, a king. + +Much of the stuff was required to deal King Robert of Warbeach the +capital stroke, and commonly he could hold on till a puff of cold air +from the outer door, like an admonitory messenger, reminded him that he +was, in the greatness of his soul, a king of swine; after which his way +of walking off, without a word to anybody, hoisting his whole stature, +while others were staggering, or roaring foul rhymes, or feeling +consciously mortal in their sensation of feverishness, became a theme for +admiration; ay, and he was fresh as an orchard apple in the morning! +there lay his commandership convincingly. What was proved overnight was +confirmed at dawn. + +Mr. Robert had his contrast in Sedgett's son, Nicodemus Sedgett, whose +unlucky Christian name had assisted the wits of Warbeach in bestowing on +him a darkly-luminous relationship. Young Nic loved also to steep his +spirit in the bowl; but, in addition to his never paying for his luxury, +he drank as if in emulation of the colour of his reputed patron, and +neighbourhood to Nic Sedgett was not liked when that young man became +thoughtful over his glass. + +The episode of his stabbing the landlady's son Harry clung to him +fatally. The wound was in the thigh, and nothing serious. Harry was up +and off to sea before Nic had ceased to show the marks of Robert's +vengeance upon him; but blood-shedding, even on a small scale, is so +detested by Englishmen, that Nic never got back to his right hue in the +eyes of Warbeach. None felt to him as to a countryman, and it may be +supposed that his face was seen no more in the house of gathering, the +Pilot Inn. + +He rented one of the Fairly farms, known as the Three-Tree Farm, +subsisting there, men fancied, by the aid of his housekeeper's money. +For he was of those evil fellows who disconcert all righteous prophecy, +and it was vain for Mrs. Boulby and Warbeach village to declare that no +good could come to him, when Fortune manifestly kept him going. + +He possessed the rogue's most serviceable art: in spite of a countenance +that was not attractive, this fellow could, as was proved by evidence, +make himself pleasing to women. "The truth of it is," said Mrs. Boulby, +at a loss for any other explanation, and with a woman's love of sharp +generalization, "it's because my sex is fools." + +He had one day no money to pay his rent, and forthwith (using for the +purpose his last five shillings, it was said) advertized for a +housekeeper; and before Warbeach had done chuckling over his folly, an +agreeable woman of about thirty-five was making purchases in his name; +she made tea, and the evening brew for such friends as he could collect, +and apparently paid his rent for him, after a time; the distress was not +in the house three days. It seemed to Warbeach an erratic proceeding on +the part of Providence, that Nic should ever be helped to swim; but our +modern prophets have small patience, and summon Destiny to strike without +a preparation of her weapons or a warning to the victim. + +More than Robert's old occasional vice was at the bottom of his +popularity, as I need not say. Let those who generalize upon ethnology +determine whether the ancient opposition of Saxon and Norman be at an +end; but it is certain, to my thinking, that when a hero of the people +can be got from the common popular stock, he is doubly dear. A +gentleman, however gallant and familiar, will hardly ever be as much +beloved, until he dies to inform a legend or a ballad: seeing that death +only can remove the peculiar distinctions and distances which the people +feel to exist between themselves and the gentleman-class, and which, not +to credit them with preternatural discernment, they are carefully taught +to feel. Dead Britons are all Britons, but live Britons are not quite +brothers. + +It was as the son of a yeoman, showing comprehensible accomplishments, +that Robert took his lead. He was a very brave, a sweet-hearted, and a +handsome young man, and he had very chivalrous views of life, that were +understood by a sufficient number under the influence of ale or brandy, +and by a few in default of that material aid; and they had a family pride +in him. The pride was mixed with fear, which threw over it a tender +light, like a mother's dream of her child. The people, I have said, are +not so lost in self-contempt as to undervalue their best men, but it must +be admitted that they rarely produce young fellows wearing the undeniable +chieftain's stamp, and the rarity of one like Robert lent a hue of +sadness to him in their thoughts. + +Fortune, moreover, the favourer of Nic Sedgett, blew foul whichever the +way Robert set his sails. He would not look to his own advantage; and +the belief that man should set his little traps for the liberal hand of +his God, if he wishes to prosper, rather than strive to be merely +honourable in his Maker's eye, is almost as general among poor people as +it is with the moneyed classes, who survey them from their height. + +When jolly Butcher Billing, who was one of the limited company which had +sat with Robert at the Pilot last night, reported that he had quitted the +army, he was hearkened to dolefully, and the feeling was universal that +glorious Robert had cut himself off from his pension and his hospital. + +But when gossip Sedgett went his rounds, telling that Robert was down +among them again upon the darkest expedition their minds could conceive, +and rode out every morning for the purpose of encountering one of the +gentlemen up at Fairly, and had already pulled him off his horse and laid +him in the mud, calling him scoundrel and challenging him either to yield +his secret or to fight; and that he followed him, and was out after him +publicly, and matched himself against that gentleman, who had all the +other gentlemen, and the earl, and the law to back him, the little place +buzzed with wonder and alarm. Faint hearts declared that Robert was now +done for. All felt that he had gone miles beyond the mark. Those were +the misty days when fogs rolled up the salt river from the winter sea, +and the sun lived but an hour in the clotted sky, extinguished near the +noon. + +Robert was seen riding out, and the tramp of his horse was heard as he +returned homeward. He called no more at the Pilot. Darkness and mystery +enveloped him. There were nightly meetings under Mrs. Boulby's roof, in +the belief that he could not withstand her temptations; nor did she +imprudently discourage them; but the woman at last overcame the landlady +within her, and she wailed: "He won't come because of the drink. Oh! why +was I made to sell liquor, which he says sends him to the devil, poor +blessed boy? and I can't help begging him to take one little drop. I +did, the first night he was down, forgetting his ways; he looked so +desperate, he did, and it went on and went on, till he was primed, and me +proud to see him get out of his misery. And now he hates the thought of +me." + +In her despair she encouraged Sedgett to visit her bar and parlour, and +he became everywhere a most important man. + +Farmer Eccles's habits of seclusion (his pride, some said), and more +especially the dreaded austere Aunt Anne, who ruled that household, kept +people distant from the Warbeach farm-house, all excepting Sedgett, who +related that every night on his return, she read a chapter from the Bible +to Robert, sitting up for him patiently to fulfil her duty; and that the +farmer's words to his son had been: "Rest here; eat and drink, and ride +my horse; but not a penny of my money do you have." + +By the help of Steeve Bilton, the Fairly huntsman, Sedgett was enabled to +relate that there was a combination of the gentlemen against Robert, +whose behaviour none could absolutely approve, save the landlady and +jolly Butcher Billing, who stuck to him with a hearty blind faith. + +"Did he ever," asked the latter, "did Bob Eccles ever conduct himself +disrespectful to his superiors? Wasn't he always found out at his +wildest for to be right--to a sensible man's way of thinking?--though +not, I grant ye, to his own interests--there's another tale." And Mr. +Billing's staunch adherence to the hero of the village was cried out to +his credit when Sedgett stated, on Stephen Bilton's authority, that +Robert's errand was the defence of a girl who had been wronged, and whose +whereabout, that she might be restored to her parents, was all he wanted +to know. This story passed from mouth to mouth, receiving much ornament +in the passage. The girl in question became a lady; for it is required +of a mere common girl that she should display remarkable character before +she can be accepted as the fitting companion of a popular hero. She +became a young lady of fortune, in love with Robert, and concealed by the +artifice of the offending gentleman whom Robert had challenged. Sedgett +told this for truth, being instigated to boldness of invention by +pertinacious inquiries, and the dignified sense which the whole story +hung upon him. + +Mrs. Boulby, who, as a towering woman, despised Sedgett's weak frame, had +been willing to listen till she perceived him to be but a man of fiction, +and then she gave him a flat contradiction, having no esteem for his +custom. + +"Eh! but, Missis, I can tell you his name--the gentleman's name," said +Sedgett, placably. "He's a Mr. Algernon Blancove, and a cousin by +marriage, or something, of Mrs. Lovell." + +"I reckon you're right about that, goodman," replied Mrs. Boulby, with +intuitive discernment of the true from the false, mingled with a desire +to show that she was under no obligation for the news. "All t' other's a +tale of your own, and you know it, and no more true than your rigmaroles +about my brandy, which is French; it is, as sure as my blood's British." + +"Oh! Missis," quoth Sedgett, maliciously, "as to tales, you've got +witnesses enough it crassed chann'l. Aha! Don't bring 'em into the box. +Don't you bring 'em into ne'er a box." + +"You mean to say, Mr. Sedgett, they won't swear?" + +"No, Missis; they'll swear, fast and safe, if you teach 'em. Dashed if +they won't run the Pilot on a rock with their swearin'. It ain't a good +habit." + +"Well, Mr. Sedgett, the next time you drink my brandy and find the +consequences bad, you let me hear of it." + +"And what'll you do, Missis, may be?" + +Listeners were by, and Mrs. Boulby cruelly retorted; "I won't send you +home to your wife;" which created a roar against this hen-pecked man. + +"As to consequences, Missis, it's for your sake I'm looking at them," +Sedgett said, when he had recovered from the blow. + +"You say that to the Excise, Mr. Sedgett; it, belike, 'll make 'em +sorry." + +"Brandy's your weak point, it appears, Missis." + +"A little in you would stiffen your back, Mr. Sedgett." + +"Poor Bob Eccles didn't want no stiffening when he come down first," +Sedgett interjected. + +At which, flushing enraged, Mrs. Boulby cried: "Mention him, indeed! And +him and you, and that son of your'n--the shame of your cheeks if people +say he's like his father. Is it your son, Nic Sedgett, thinks to inform +against me, as once he swore to, and to get his wage that he may step out +of a second bankruptcy? and he a farmer! You let him know that he isn't +feared by me, Sedgett, and there's one here to give him a second dose, +without waiting for him to use clasp-knives on harmless innocents." + +"Pacify yourself, ma'am, pacify yourself," remarked Sedgett, hardened +against words abroad by his endurance of blows at home. "Bob Eccles, he's +got his hands full, and he, maybe, 'll reach the hulks before my Nic do, +yet. And how 'm I answerable for Nic, I ask you?" + +"More luck to you not to be, I say; and either, Sedgett, you does woman's +work, gossipin' about like a cracked bell-clapper, or men's the biggest +gossips of all, which I believe; for there's no beating you at your work, +and one can't wish ill to you, knowing what you catch." + +"In a friendly way, Missis,"--Sedgett fixed on the compliment to his +power of propagating news--"in a friendly way. You can't accuse me of +leavin' out the "l" in your name, now, can you? I make that +observation,"--the venomous tattler screwed himself up to the widow +insinuatingly, as if her understanding could only be seized at close +quarters, "I make that observation, because poor Dick Boulby, your +lamented husband--eh! poor Dick! You see, Missis, it ain't the tough +ones last longest: he'd sing, 'I'm a Sea Booby,' to the song, 'I'm a +green Mermaid:' poor Dick! 'a-shinin' upon the sea-deeps.' He kept the +liquor from his head, but didn't mean it to stop down in his leg." + +"Have you done, Mr. Sedgett?" said the widow, blandly. + +"You ain't angry, Missis?" + +"Not a bit, Mr. Sedgett; and if I knock you over with the flat o' my +hand, don't you think so." + +Sedgett threw up the wizened skin of his forehead, and retreated from the +bar. At a safe distance, he called: "Bad news that about Bob Eccles +swallowing a blow yesterday!" + +Mrs. Boulby faced him complacently till he retired, and then observed to +those of his sex surrounding her, "Don't "woman-and-dog-and-walnut-tree" +me! Some of you men 'd be the better for a drubbing every day of your +lives. Sedgett yond' 'd be as big a villain as his son, only for what he +gets at home." + +That was her way of replying to the Parthian arrow; but the barb was +poisoned. The village was at fever heat concerning Robert, and this +assertion that he had swallowed a blow, produced almost as great a +consternation as if a fleet of the enemy had been reported off Sandy +Point. + +Mrs. Boulby went into her parlour and wrote a letter to Robert, which she +despatched by one of the loungers about the bar, who brought back news +that three of the gentlemen of Fairly were on horseback, talking to +Farmer Eccles at his garden gate. Affairs were waxing hot. The +gentlemen had only to threaten Farmer Eccles, to make him side with his +son, right or wrong. In the evening, Stephen Bilton, the huntsman, +presented himself at the door of the long parlour of the Pilot, and loud +cheers were his greeting from a full company. + +"Gentlemen all," said Stephen, with dapper modesty; and acted as if no +excitement were current, and he had nothing to tell. + +"Well, Steeve?" said one, to encourage him. + +"How about Bob, to-day?" said another. + +Before Stephen had spoken, it was clear to the apprehension of the whole +room that he did not share the popular view of Robert. He declined to +understand who was meant by "Bob." He played the questions off; and then +shrugged, with, "Oh, let's have a quiet evening." + +It ended in his saying, "About Bob Eccles? There, that's summed up +pretty quick--he's mad." + +"Mad!" shouted Warbeach. + +"That's a lie," said Mrs. Boulby, from the doorway. + +"Well, mum, I let a lady have her own opinion." Stephen nodded to her. +"There ain't a doubt as t' what the doctors 'd bring him in I ain't +speaking my ideas alone. It's written like the capital letters in a +newspaper. Lunatic's the word! And I'll take a glass of something warm, +Mrs. Boulby. We had a stiff run to-day." + +"Where did ye kill, Steeve?" asked a dispirited voice. + +"We didn't kill at all: he was one of those "longshore dog-foxes, and got +away home on the cliff." Stephen thumped his knee. "It's my belief the +smell o' sea gives 'em extra cunning." + +"The beggar seems to have put ye out rether--eh, Steeve?" + +So it was generally presumed: and yet the charge of madness was very +staggering; madness being, in the first place, indefensible, and +everybody's enemy when at large; and Robert's behaviour looked extremely +like it. It had already been as a black shadow haunting enthusiastic +minds in the village, and there fell a short silence, during which +Stephen made his preparations for filling and lighting a pipe. + +"Come; how do you make out he's mad?" + +Jolly Butcher Billing spoke; but with none of the irony of confidence. + +"Oh!" Stephen merely clapped both elbows against his sides. + +Several pairs of eyes were studying him. He glanced over them in turn, +and commenced leisurely the puff contemplative. + +"Don't happen to have a grudge of e'er a kind against old Bob, Steeve?" + +"Not I!" + +Mrs. Boulby herself brought his glass to Stephen, and, retreating, left +the parlour-door open. + +"What causes you for to think him mad, Steeve?" + +A second "Oh!" as from the heights dominating argument, sounded from +Stephen's throat, half like a grunt. This time he condescended to add,-- + +"How do you know when a dog's gone mad? Well, Robert Eccles, he's gone +in like manner. If you don't judge a man by his actions, you've got no +means of reckoning. He comes and attacks gentlemen, and swears he'll go +on doing it." + +"Well, and what does that prove?" said jolly Butcher Billing. + +Mr. William Moody, boatbuilder, a liver-complexioned citizen, undertook +to reply. + +"What does that prove? What does that prove when the midshipmite was +found with his head in the mixedpickle jar? It proved that his head was +lean, and t' other part was rounder." + +The illustration appeared forcible, but not direct, and nothing more was +understood from it than that Moody, and two or three others who had been +struck by the image of the infatuated young naval officer, were going +over to the enemy. The stamp of madness upon Robert's acts certainly +saved perplexity, and was the easiest side of the argument. By this time +Stephen had finished his glass, and the effect was seen. + +"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "I don't agree he deserves shooting. And he may +have had harm done to him. In that case, let him fight. And I say, too, +let the gentleman give him satisfaction." + +"Hear! hear!" cried several. + +"And if the gentleman refuse to give him satisfaction in a fair stand-up +fight, I say he ain't a gentleman, and deserves to be treated as such. +My objection's personal. I don't like any man who spoils sport, and +ne'er a rascally vulpeci' spoils sport as he do, since he's been down in +our parts again. I'll take another brimmer, Mrs. Boulby." + +"To be sure you will, Stephen," said Mrs. Boulby, bending as in a curtsey +to the glass; and so soft with him that foolish fellows thought her cowed +by the accusation thrown at her favourite. + +"There's two questions about they valpecies, Master Stephen," said Farmer +Wainsby, a farmer with a grievance, fixing his elbow on his knee for +serious utterance. "There's to ask, and t' ask again. Sport, I grant +ye. All in doo season. But," he performed a circle with his pipe stem, +and darted it as from the centre thereof toward Stephen's breast, with +the poser, "do we s'pport thieves at public expense for them to keep +thievin'--black, white, or brown--no matter, eh? Well, then, if the +public wunt bear it, dang me if I can see why individles shud bear it. +It ent no manner o' reason, net as I can see; let gentlemen have their +opinion, or let 'em not. Foxes be hanged!" + +Much slow winking was interchanged. In a general sense, Farmer Wainsby's +remarks were held to be un-English, though he was pardoned for them as +one having peculiar interests at stake. + +"Ay, ay! we know all about that," said Stephen, taking succour from the +eyes surrounding him. + +"And so, may be, do we," said Wainsby. + +"Fox-hunting 'll go on when your great-grandfather's your youngest son, +farmer; or t' other way." + +"I reckon it'll be a stuffed fox your chil'ern 'll hunt, Mr. Steeve; more +straw in 'em than bow'ls." + +"If the country," Stephen thumped the table, "were what you'd make of it, +hang me if my name 'd long be Englishman!" + +"Hear, hear, Steeve!" was shouted in support of the Conservative +principle enunciated by him. + +"What I say is, flesh and blood afore foxes!" + +Thus did Farmer Wainsby likewise attempt a rallying-cry; but Stephen's +retort, "Ain't foxes flesh and blood?" convicted him of clumsiness, and, +buoyed on the uproar of cheers, Stephen pursued, "They are; to kill 'em +in cold blood's beast-murder, so it is. What do we do? We give 'em a +fair field--a fair field and no favour! We let 'em trust to the +instincts Nature, she's given 'em; and don't the old woman know best? If +they cap, get away, they win the day. All's open, and honest, and +aboveboard. Kill your rats and kill your rabbits, but leave foxes to +your betters. Foxes are gentlemen. You don't understand? Be hanged if +they ain't! I like the old fox, and I don't like to see him murdered and +exterminated, but die the death of a gentleman, at the hands of +gentlemen--" + +"And ladies," sneered the farmer. + +All the room was with Stephen, and would have backed him uproariously, +had he not reached his sounding period without knowing it, and thus +allowed his opponent to slip in that abominable addition. + +"Ay, and ladies," cried the huntsman, keen at recovery. "Why shouldn't +they? I hate a field without a woman in it; don't you? and you? and you? +And you, too, Mrs. Boulby? There you are, and the room looks better for +you--don't it, lads? Hurrah!" + +The cheering was now aroused, and Stephen had his glass filled again in +triumph, while the farmer meditated thickly over the ruin of his argument +from that fatal effort at fortifying it by throwing a hint to the +discredit of the sex, as many another man has meditated before. + +"Eh! poor old Bob!" Stephen sighed and sipped. "I can cry that with any +of you. It's worse for me to see than for you to hear of him. Wasn't I +always a friend of his, and said he was worthy to be a gentleman, many a +time? He's got the manners of a gentleman now; offs with his hat, if +there's a lady present, and such a neat way of speaking. But there, +acting's the thing, and his behaviour's beastly bad! You can't call it +no other. There's two Mr. Blancoves up at Fairly, relations of Mrs. +Lovell's--whom I'll take the liberty of calling My Beauty, and no offence +meant: and it's before her that Bob only yesterday rode up--one of the +gentlemen being Mr. Algernon, free of hand and a good seat in the saddle, +t' other's Mr. Edward; but Mr. Algernon, he's Robert Eccles's man--up +rides Bob, just as we was tying Mr. Reenard's brush to the pommel of the +lady's saddle, down in Ditley Marsh; and he bows to the lady. Says he-- +but he's mad, stark mad!" + +Stephen resumed his pipe amid a din of disappointment that made the walls +ring and the glasses leap. + +"A little more sugar, Stephen?" said Mrs. Boulby, moving in lightly from +the doorway. + +"Thank ye, mum; you're the best hostess that ever breathed." + +"So she be; but how about Bob?" cried her guests--some asking whether he +carried a pistol or flourished a stick. + +"Ne'er a blessed twig, to save his soul; and there's the madness written +on him;" Stephen roared as loud as any of them. "And me to see him +riding in the ring there, and knowing what the gentleman had sworn to do +if he came across the hunt; and feeling that he was in the wrong! I +haven't got a oath to swear how mad I was. Fancy yourselves in my place. +I love old Bob. I've drunk with him; I owe him obligations from since I +was a boy up'ard; I don't know a better than Bob in all England. And +there he was: and says to Mr. Algernon, 'You know what I'm come for.' I +never did behold a gentleman so pale--shot all over his cheeks as he was, +and pinkish under the eyes; if you've ever noticed a chap laid hands on +by detectives in plain clothes. Smack at Bob went Mr. Edward's whip." + +"Mr. Algernon's," Stephen was corrected. + +"Mr. Edward's, I tell ye--the cousin. And right across the face. My +Lord! it made my blood tingle." + +A sound like the swish of a whip expressed the sentiments of that +assemblage at the Pilot. + +"Bob swallowed it?" + +"What else could he do, the fool? He had nothing to help him but his +hand. Says he, 'That's a poor way of trying to stop me. My business is +with this gentleman;' and Bob set his horse at Mr. Algernon, and Mrs. +Lovell rode across him with her hand raised; and just at that moment up +jogged the old gentleman, Squire Blancove, of Wrexby: and Robert Eccles +says to him, 'You might have saved your son something by keeping your +word.' It appears according to Bob, that the squire had promised to see +his son, and settle matters. All Mrs. Lovell could do was hardly enough +to hold back Mr. Edward from laying out at Bob. He was like a white +devil, and speaking calm and polite all the time. Says Bob, 'I'm willing +to take one when I've done with the other;' and the squire began talking +to his son, Mrs. Lovell to Mr. Edward, and the rest of the gentlemen all +round poor dear old Bob, rather bullying--like for my blood; till Bob +couldn't help being nettled, and cried out, 'Gentlemen, I hold him in my +power, and I'm silent so long as there's a chance of my getting him to +behave like a man with human feelings.' If they'd gone at him then, I +don't think I could have let him stand alone: an opinion's one thing, but +blood's another, and I'm distantly related to Bob; and a man who's always +thinking of the value of his place, he ain't worth it. But Mrs. Lovell, +she settled the case--a lady, Farmer Wainsby, with your leave. There's +the good of having a lady present on the field. That's due to a lady!" + +"Happen she was at the bottom of it," the farmer returned Stephen's nod +grumpily. + +"How did it end, Stephen, my lad?" said Butcher Billing, indicating a +"never mind him." + +"It ended, my boy, it ended like my glass here--hot and strong stuff, +with sugar at the bottom. And I don't see this, so glad as I saw that, +my word of honour on it! Boys all!" Stephen drank the dregs. + +Mrs. Boulby was still in attendance. The talk over the circumstances was +sweeter than the bare facts, and the replenished glass enabled Stephen to +add the picturesque bits of the affray, unspurred by a surrounding +eagerness of his listeners--too exciting for imaginative effort. In +particular, he dwelt on Robert's dropping the reins and riding with his +heels at Algernon, when Mrs. Lovell put her horse in his way, and the +pair of horses rose like waves at sea, and both riders showed their +horsemanship, and Robert an adroit courtesy, for which the lady thanked +him with a bow of her head. + +"I got among the hounds, pretending to pacify them, and call 'em +together," said Stephen, "and I heard her say--just before all was over, +and he turned off--I heard her say: 'Trust this to me: I will meet you.' +I'll swear to them exact words, though there was more, and a 'where' in +the bargain, and that I didn't hear. Aha! by George! thinks I, old Bob, +you're a lucky beggar, and be hanged if I wouldn't go mad too for a +minute or so of short, sweet, private talk with a lovely young widow lady +as ever the sun did shine upon so boldly--oho! + + You've seen a yacht upon the sea, + She dances and she dances, O! + As fair is my wild maid to me... + +Something about 'prances, O!' on her horse, you know, or you're a hem'd +fool if you don't. I never could sing; wish I could! It's the joy of +life! It's utterance! Hey for harmony!" + +"Eh! brayvo! now you're a man, Steeve! and welcomer and welcomest; yi-- +yi, O!" jolly Butcher Billing sang out sharp. "Life wants watering. +Here's a health to Robert Eccles, wheresoever and whatsoever! and ne'er a +man shall say of me I didn't stick by a friend like Bob. Cheers, my +lads!" + +Robert's health was drunk in a thunder, and praises of the purity of the +brandy followed the grand roar. Mrs. Boulby received her compliments on +that head. + +"'Pends upon the tide, Missis, don't it?" one remarked with a grin broad +enough to make the slyness written on it easy reading. + +"Ah! first a flow and then a ebb," said another. + + "It's many a keg I plant i' the mud, + Coastguardsman, come! and I'll have your blood!" + +Instigation cried, "Cut along;" but the defiant smuggler was deficient in +memory, and like Steeve Bilton, was reduced to scatter his concluding +rhymes in prose, as "something about;" whereat jolly Butcher Billing, a +reader of song-books from a literary delight in their contents, scraped +his head, and then, as if he had touched a spring, carolled,-- + + "In spite of all you Gov'ment pack, + I'll land my kegs of the good Cognyac"-- + +"though," he took occasion to observe when the chorus and a sort of +cracker of irrelevant rhymes had ceased to explode; "I'm for none of them +games. Honesty!--there's the sugar o' my grog." + +"Ay, but you like to be cock-sure of the stuff you drink, if e'er a man +did," said the boatbuilder, whose eye blazed yellow in this frothing +season of song and fun. + +"Right so, Will Moody!" returned the jolly butcher: "which means--not +wrong this time!" + +"Then, what's understood by your sticking prongs into your hostess here +concerning of her brandy? Here it is--which is enough, except for +discontented fellows." + +"Eh, Missus?" the jolly butcher appealed to her, and pointed at Moody's +complexion for proof. + +It was quite a fiction that kegs of the good cognac were sown at low +water, and reaped at high, near the river-gate of the old Pilot Inn +garden; but it was greatly to Mrs. Boulby's interest to encourage the +delusion which imaged her brandy thus arising straight from the very +source, without villanous contact with excisemen and corrupting dealers; +and as, perhaps, in her husband's time, the thing had happened, and still +did, at rare intervals, she complacently gathered the profitable fame of +her brandy being the best in the district. + +"I'm sure I hope you're satisfied, Mr. Billing," she said. + +The jolly butcher asked whether Will Moody was satisfied, and Mr. William +Moody declaring himself thoroughly satisfied, "then I'm satisfied too!" +said the jolly butcher; upon which the boatbuilder heightened the laugh +by saying he was not satisfied at all; and to escape from the execrations +of the majority, pleaded that it was because his glass was empty: thus +making his peace with them. Every glass in the room was filled again. + +The young fellows now loosened tongue; and Dick Curtis, the promising +cricketer of Hampshire, cried, "Mr. Moody, my hearty! that's your fourth +glass, so don't quarrel with me, now!" + +"You!" Moody fired up in a bilious frenzy, and called him a this and that +and t' other young vagabond; for which the company, feeling the ominous +truth contained in Dick Curtis's remark more than its impertinence, fined +Mr. Moody in a song. He gave the-- + + "So many young Captains have walked o'er my pate, + It's no wonder you see me quite bald, sir," + +with emphatic bitterness, and the company thanked him. Seeing him stand +up as to depart, however, a storm of contempt was hurled at him; some +said he was like old Sedgett, and was afraid of his wife; and some, that +he was like Nic Sedgett, and drank blue. + + "You're a bag of blue devils, oh dear! oh dear!" + +sang Dick to the tune of "The Campbells are coming." + +"I ask e'er a man present," Mr. Moody put out his fist, "is that to be +borne? Didn't you," he addressed Dick Curtis,--"didn't you sing into my +chorus--" + + 'It's no wonder to hear how you squall'd, sir?' + +"You did!" + +"Don't he,"--Dick addressed the company, "make Mrs. Boulby's brandy look +ashamed of itself in his face? I ask e'er a gentleman present." + +Accusation and retort were interchanged, in the course of which, Dick +called Mr. Moody Nic Sedgett's friend; and a sort of criminal inquiry was +held. It was proved that Moody had been seen with Nic Sedgett; and then +three or four began to say that Nic Sedgett was thick with some of the +gentlemen up at Fairly;--just like his luck! Stephen let it be known +that he could confirm this fact; he having seen Mr. Algernon Blancove +stop Nic on the road and talk to him. + +"In that case," said Butcher Billing, "there's mischief in a state of +fermentation. Did ever anybody see Nic and the devil together?" + +"I saw Nic and Mr. Moody together," said Dick Curtis. "Well, I'm only +stating a fact," he exclaimed, as Moody rose, apparently to commence an +engagement, for which the company quietly prepared, by putting chairs out +of his way: but the recreant took his advantage from the error, and got +away to the door, pursued. + +"Here's an example of what we lose in having no President," sighed the +jolly butcher. "There never was a man built for the chair like Bob +Eccles I say! Our evening's broke up, and I, for one, 'd ha' made it +morning. Hark, outside; By Gearge! they're snowballing." + +An adjournment to the front door brought them in view of a white and +silent earth under keen stars, and Dick Curtis and the bilious +boatbuilder, foot to foot, snowball in hand. A bout of the smart +exercise made Mr. Moody laugh again, and all parted merrily, delivering +final shots as they went their several ways. + +"Thanks be to heaven for snowing," said Mrs. Boulby; "or when I should +have got to my bed, Goodness only can tell!" With which, she closed the +door upon the empty inn. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +The night was warm with the new-fallen snow, though the stars sparkled +coldly. A fleet of South-westerly rainclouds had been met in mid-sky by +a sharp puff from due North, and the moisture had descended like a woven +shroud, covering all the land, the house-tops, and the trees. + +Young Harry Boulby was at sea, and this still weather was just what a +mother's heart wished for him. The widow looked through her bed-room +window and listened, as if the absolute stillness must beget a sudden +cry. The thought of her boy made her heart revert to Robert. She was +thinking of Robert when the muffled sound of a horse at speed caused her +to look up the street, and she saw one coming--a horse without a rider. +The next minute he was out of sight. + +Mrs. Boulby stood terrified. The silence of the night hanging everywhere +seemed to call on her for proof that she had beheld a real earthly +spectacle, and the dead thump of the hooves on the snow-floor in passing +struck a chill through her as being phantom-like. But she had seen a +saddle on the horse, and the stirrups flying, and the horse looked +affrighted. The scene was too earthly in its suggestion of a tale of +blood. What if the horse were Robert's? She tried to laugh at her +womanly fearfulness, and had almost to suppress a scream in doing so. +There was no help for it but to believe her brandy as good and +efficacious as her guests did, so she went downstairs and took a +fortifying draught; after which her blood travelled faster, and the event +galloped swiftly into the recesses of time, and she slept. + +While the morning was still black, and the streets without a sign of +life, she was aroused by a dream of some one knocking at her grave-stone. +"Ah, that brandy!" she sighed. "This is what a poor woman has to pay for +custom!" Which we may interpret as the remorseful morning confession of +a guilt she had been the victim of over night. She knew that good brandy +did not give bad dreams, and was self-convicted. Strange were her +sensations when the knocking continued; and presently she heard a voice +in the naked street below call in a moan, "Mother!" + +"My darling!" she answered, divided in her guess at its being Harry or +Robert. + +A glance from the open window showed Robert leaning in the quaint old +porch, with his head bound by a handkerchief; but he had no strength to +reply to a question at that distance, and when she let him in he made two +steps and dropped forward on the floor. + +Lying there, he plucked at her skirts. She was shouting for help, but +with her ready apprehension of the pride in his character, she knew what +was meant by his broken whisper before she put her ear to his lips, and +she was silent, miserable sight as was his feeble efforts to rise on an +elbow that would not straighten. + +His head was streaming with blood, and the stain was on his neck and +chest. He had one helpless arm; his clothes were torn as from a fierce +struggle. + +"I'm quite sensible," he kept repeating, lest she should relapse into +screams. + +"Lord love you for your spirit!" exclaimed the widow, and there they +remained, he like a winged eagle, striving to raise himself from time to +time, and fighting with his desperate weakness. His face was to the +ground; after a while he was still. In alarm the widow stooped over him: +she feared that he had given up his last breath; but the candle-light +showed him shaken by a sob, as it seemed to her, though she could scarce +believe it of this manly fellow. Yet it proved true; she saw the very +tears. He was crying at his helplessness. + +"Oh, my darling boy!" she burst out; "what have they done to ye? the +cowards they are! but do now have pity on a woman, and let me get some +creature to lift you to a bed, dear. And don't flap at me with your hand +like a bird that's shot. You're quite, quite sensible, I know; quite +sensible, dear; but for my sake, Robert, my Harry's good friend, only for +my sake, let yourself be a carried to a clean, nice bed, till I get Dr. +Bean to you. Do, do." + +Her entreaties brought on a succession of the efforts to rise, and at +last, getting round on his back, and being assisted by the widow, he sat +up against the wall. The change of posture stupified him with a +dizziness. He tried to utter the old phrase, that he was sensible, but +his hand beat at his forehead before the words could be shaped. + +"What pride is when it's a man!" the widow thought, as he recommenced the +grievous struggle to rise on his feet; now feeling them up to the knee +with a questioning hand, and pausing as if in a reflective wonder, and +then planting them for a spring that failed wretchedly; groaning and +leaning backward, lost in a fit of despair, and again beginning, patient +as an insect imprisoned in a circle. + +The widow bore with his man's pride, until her nerves became afflicted by +the character of his movements, which, as her sensations conceived them, +were like those of a dry door jarring loose. She caught him in her arms: +"It's let my back break, but you shan't fret to death there, under my +eyes, proud or humble, poor dear," she said, and with a great pull she +got him upright. He fell across her shoulder with so stiff a groan that +for a moment she thought she had done him mortal injury. + +"Good old mother," he said boyishly, to reassure her. + +"Yes; and you'll behave to me like a son," she coaxed him. + +They talked as by slow degrees the stairs were ascended. + +"A crack o' the head, mother--a crack o' the head," said he. + +"Was it the horse, my dear?" + +"A crack o' the head, mother." + +"What have they done to my boy Robert?" + +"They've,"--he swung about humorously, weak as he was and throbbing with +pain--"they've let out some of your brandy, mother...got into my head." + +"Who've done it, my dear?" + +"They've done it, mother." + +"Oh, take care o' that nail at your foot; and oh, that beam to your poor +poll--poor soul! he's been and hurt himself again. And did they do it to +him? and what was it for?" she resumed in soft cajolery. + +"They did it, because--" + +"Yes, my dear; the reason for it?" + +"Because, mother, they had a turn that way." + +"Thanks be to Above for leaving your cunning in you, my dear," said the +baffled woman, with sincere admiration. "And Lord be thanked, if you're +not hurt bad, that they haven't spoilt his handsome face," she added. + +In the bedroom, he let her partially undress him, refusing all doctor's +aid, and commanding her to make no noise about him. and then he lay down +and shut his eyes, for the pain was terrible--galloped him and threw him +with a shock--and galloped him and threw him again, whenever his thoughts +got free for a moment from the dizzy aching. + +"My dear," she whispered, "I'm going to get a little brandy." + +She hastened away upon this mission. + +He was in the same posture when she returned with bottle and glass. + +She poured out some, and made much of it as a specific, and of the great +things brandy would do; but he motioned his hand from it feebly, till she +reproached him tenderly as perverse and unkind. + +"Now, my dearest boy, for my sake--only for my sake. Will you? Yes, you +will, my Robert!" + +"No brandy, mother." + +"Only one small thimbleful?" + +"No more brandy for me!" + +"See, dear, how seriously you take it, and all because you want the +comfort." + +"No brandy," was all he could say. + +She looked at the label on the bottle. Alas! she knew whence it came, +and what its quality. She could cheat herself about it when herself only +was concerned--but she wavered at the thought of forcing it upon Robert +as trusty medicine, though it had a pleasant taste, and was really, as +she conceived, good enough for customers. + +She tried him faintly with arguments in its favour; but his resolution +was manifested by a deaf ear. + +With a perfect faith in it she would, and she was conscious that she +could, have raised his head and poured it down his throat. The crucial +test of her love for Robert forbade the attempt. She burst into an +uncontrollable fit of crying. + +"Halloa! mother," said Robert, opening his eyes to the sad candlelight +surrounding them. + +"My darling boy! whom I do love so; and not to be able to help you! What +shall I do--what shall I do!" + +With a start, he cried, "Where's the horse!" + +"The horse?" + +"The old dad 'll be asking for the horse to-morrow." + +"I saw a horse, my dear, afore I turned to my prayers at my bedside, +coming down the street without his rider. He came like a rumble of +deafness in my ears. Oh, my boy, I thought, Is it Robert's horse?-- +knowing you've got enemies, as there's no brave man has not got 'em +--which is our only hope in the God of heaven!" + +"Mother, punch my ribs." + +He stretched himself flat for the operation, and shut his mouth. + +"Hard, mother!--and quick!--I can't hold out long." + +"Oh! Robert," moaned the petrified woman "strike you?" + +"Straight in the ribs. Shut your fist and do it--quick." + +My dear!--my boy!--I haven't the heart to do it!" + +"Ah!" Robert's chest dropped in; but tightening his muscles again, he +said, "now do it--do it!" + +"Oh! a poke at a poor fire puts it out, dear. And make a murderess of +me, you call mother! Oh! as I love the name, I'll obey you, Robert. +But!--there!" + +"Harder, mother." + +"There!--goodness forgive me!" + +"Hard as you can--all's right." + +"There!--and there!--oh!--mercy!" + +"Press in at my stomach." + +She nerved herself to do his bidding, and, following his orders, took his +head in her hands, and felt about it. The anguish of the touch wrung a +stifled scream from him, at which she screamed responsive. He laughed, +while twisting with the pain. + +"You cruel boy, to laugh at your mother," she said, delighted by the +sound of safety in that sweet human laughter. "Hey! don't ye shake your +brain; it ought to lie quiet. And here's the spot of the wicked blow-- +and him in love--as I know he is! What would she say if she saw him now? +But an old woman's the best nurse--ne'er a doubt of it." + +She felt him heavy on her arm, and knew that he had fainted. Quelling her +first impulse to scream, she dropped him gently on the pillow, and rapped +to rouse up her maid. + +The two soon produced a fire and hot water, bandages, vinegar in a basin, +and every crude appliance that could be thought of, the maid followed her +mistress's directions with a consoling awe, for Mrs. Boulby had told her +no more than that a man was hurt. + +"I do hope, if it's anybody, it's that ther' Moody," said the maid. + +"A pretty sort of a Christian you think yourself, I dare say," Mrs. +Boulby replied. + +"Christian or not, one can't help longin' for a choice, mum. We ain't +all hands and knees." + +"Better for you if you was," said the widow. "It's tongues, you're to +remember, you're not to be. Now come you up after me--and you'll not +utter a word. You'll stand behind the door to do what I tell you. +You're a soldier's daughter, Susan, and haven't a claim to be excitable." + +"My mother was given to faints," Susan protested on behalf of her +possible weakness. + +"You may peep." Thus Mrs. Boulby tossed a sop to her frail woman's +nature. + +But for her having been appeased by the sagacious accordance of this +privilege, the maid would never have endured to hear Robert's voice in +agony, and to think that it was really Robert, the beloved of Warbeach, +who had come to harm. Her apprehensions not being so lively as her +mistress's, by reason of her love being smaller, she was more terrified +than comforted by Robert's jokes during the process of washing off the +blood, cutting the hair from the wound, bandaging and binding up the +head. + +His levity seemed ghastly; and his refusal upon any persuasion to see a +doctor quite heathenish, and a sign of one foredoomed. + +She believed that his arm was broken, and smarted with wrath at her +mistress for so easily taking his word to the contrary. More than all, +his abjuration of brandy now when it would do him good to take it, struck +her as an instance of that masculine insanity in the comprehension of +which all women must learn to fortify themselves. There was much +whispering in the room, inarticulate to her, before Mrs. Boulby came out; +enjoining a rigorous silence, and stating that the patient would drink +nothing but tea. + +"He begged," she said half to herself, "to have the window blinds up in +the morning, if the sun wasn't strong, for him to look on our river +opening down to the ships." + +"That looks as if he meant to live," Susan remarked. + +"He!" cried the widow, "it's Robert Eccles. He'd stand on his last +inch." + +"Would he, now!" ejaculated Susan, marvelling at him, with no question as +to what footing that might be. + +"Leastways," the widow hastened to add, "if he thought it was only devils +against him. I've heard him say, 'It's a fool that holds out against +God, and a coward as gives in to the devil;' and there's my Robert +painted by his own hand." + +"But don't that bring him to this so often, Mum?" Susan ruefully +inquired, joining teapot and kettle. + +"I do believe he's protected," said the widow. + +With the first morning light Mrs. Boulby was down at Warbeach Farm, and +being directed to Farmer Eccles in the stables, she found the sturdy +yeoman himself engaged in grooming Robert's horse. + +"Well, Missis," he said, nodding to her; "you win, you see. I thought +you would; I'd have sworn you would. Brandy's stronger than blood, with +some of our young fellows." + +"If you please, Mr. Eccles," she replied, "Robert's sending of me was to +know if the horse was unhurt and safe." + +"Won't his legs carry him yet, Missis?" + +"His legs have been graciously spared, Mr. Eccles; it's his head." + +"That's where the liquor flies, I'm told." + +"Pray, Mr. Eccles, believe me when I declare he hasn't touched a drop of +anything but tea in my house this past night." + +"I'm sorry for that; I'd rather have him go to you. If he takes it, let +him take it good; and I'm given to understand that you've a reputation +that way. Just tell him from me, he's at liberty to play the devil with +himself, but not with my beasts." + +The farmer continued his labour. + +"No, you ain't a hard man, surely," cried the widow. "Not when I say he +was sober, Mr. Eccles; and was thrown, and made insensible?" + +"Never knew such a thing to happen to him, Missis, and, what's more, I +don't believe it. Mayhap you're come for his things: his Aunt Anne's +indoors, and she'll give 'em up, and gladly. And my compliments to +Robert, and the next time he fancies visiting Warbeach, he'd best forward +a letter to that effect." + +Mrs. Boulby curtseyed humbly. "You think bad of me, sir, for keeping a +public; but I love your son as my own, and if I might presume to say so, +Mr. Eccles, you will be proud of him too before you die. I know no more +than you how he fell yesterday, but I do know he'd not been drinking, and +have got bitter bad enemies." + +"And that's not astonishing, Missis." + +"No, Mr. Eccles; and a man who's brave besides being good soon learns +that." + +"Well spoken, Missis." + +"Is Robert to hear he's denied his father's house?" + +"I never said that, Mrs. Boulby. Here's my principle--My house is open +to my blood, so long as he don't bring downright disgrace on it, and then +any one may claim him that likes I won't give him money, because I know +of a better use for it; and he shan't ride my beasts, because he don't +know how to treat 'em. That's all." + +"And so you keep within the line of your duty, sir," the widow summed his +speech. + +"So I hope to," said the farmer. + +"There's comfort in that," she replied. + +"As much as there's needed," said he. + +The widow curtseyed again. "It's not to trouble you, sir, I called. +Robert--thanks be to Above!--is not hurt serious, though severe." + +"Where's he hurt?" the farmer asked rather hurriedly. + +"In the head, it is." + +"What have you come for?" + +"First, his best hat." + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the farmer. "Well, if that 'll mend his head +it's at his service, I'm sure." + +Sick at his heartlessness, the widow scattered emphasis over her +concluding remarks. "First, his best hat, he wants; and his coat and +clean shirt; and they mend the looks of a man, Mr. Eccles; and it's to +look well is his object: for he's not one to make a moan of himself, and +doctors may starve before he'd go to any of them. And my begging prayer +to you is, that when you see your son, you'll not tell him I let you know +his head or any part of him was hurt. I wish you good morning, Mr. +Eccles." + +"Good morning to you, Mrs. Boulby. You're a respectable woman." + +"Not to be soaped," she murmured to herself in a heat. + +The apparently medicinal articles of attire were obtained from Aunt Anne, +without a word of speech on the part of that pale spinster. The +deferential hostility between the two women acknowledged an intervening +chasm. Aunt Anne produced a bundle, and placed the hat on it, upon which +she had neatly pinned a tract, "The Drunkard's Awakening!" Mrs. Boulby +glanced her eye in wrath across this superscription, thinking to herself, +"Oh, you good people! how you make us long in our hearts for trouble with +you." She controlled the impulse, and mollified her spirit on her way +home by distributing stray leaves of the tract to the outlying heaps of +rubbish, and to one inquisitive pig, who was looking up from a +badly-smelling sty for what the heavens might send him. + +She found Robert with his arm doubled over a basin, and Susan sponging +cold water on it. + +"No bones broken, mother!" he sang out. "I'm sound; all right again. +Six hours have done it this time. Is it a thaw? You needn't tell me +what the old dad has been saying. I shall be ready to breakfast in half +an hour." + +"Lord, what a big arm it is!" exclaimed the widow. "And no wonder, or +how would you be a terror to men? You naughty boy, to think of stirring! +Here you'll lie." + +"Ah, will I?" said Robert: and he gave a spring, and sat upright in the +bed, rather white with the effort, which seemed to affect his mind, for +he asked dubiously, "What do I look like, mother?" + +She brought him the looking-glass, and Susan being dismissed, he examined +his features. + +"Dear!" said the widow, sitting down on the bed; "it ain't much for me to +guess you've got an appointment." + +"At twelve o'clock, mother." + +"With her?" she uttered softly. + +"It's with a lady, mother." + +"And so many enemies prowling about, Robert, my dear! Don't tell me they +didn't fall upon you last night. I said nothing, but I'd swear it on the +Book. Do you think you can go?" + +"Why, mother, I go by my feelings, and there's no need to think at all, +or God knows what I should think." + +The widow shook her head. "Nothing 'll stop you, I suppose?" + +"Nothing inside of me will, mother." + +"Doesn't she but never mind. I've no right to ask, Robert; and if I have +curiosity, it's about last night, and why you should let villains escape. +But there's no accounting for a man's notions; only, this I say, and I do +say it, Nic Sedgett, he's at the bottom of any mischief brewed against +you down here. And last night Stephen Bilton, or somebody, declared that +Nic Sedgett had been seen up at Fairly." + +"Selling eggs, mother. Why shouldn't he? We mustn't complain of his +getting an honest livelihood." + +"He's black-blooded, Robert; and I never can understand why the Lord did +not make him a beast in face. I'm told that creature's found pleasing by +the girls." + +"Ugh, mother, I'm not." + +"She won't have you, Robert?" + +He laughed. "We shall see to-day." + +"You deceiving boy!" cried the widow; "and me not know it's Mrs. Lovell +you're going to meet! and would to heaven she'd see the worth of ye, for +it's a born lady you ought to marry." + +"Just feel in my pockets, mother, and you won't be so ready with your +talk of my marrying. And now I'll get up. I feel as if my legs had to +learn over again how to bear me. The old dad, bless his heart! gave me +sound wind and limb to begin upon, so I'm not easily stumped, you see, +though I've been near on it once or twice in my life." + +Mrs. Boulby murmured, "Ah! are you still going to be at war with those +gentlemen, Robert?" + +He looked at her steadily, while a shrewd smile wrought over his face, +and then taking her hand, he said, "I'll tell you a little; you deserve +it, and won't tattle. My curse is, I'm ashamed to talk about my +feelings; but there's no shame in being fond of a girl, even if she +refuses to have anything to say to you, is there? No, there isn't. I +went with my dear old aunt's money to a farmer in Kent, and learnt +farming; clear of the army first, by--But I must stop that burst of +swearing. Half the time I've been away, I was there. The farmer's a +good, sober, downhearted man--a sort of beaten Englishman, who don't know +it, tough, and always backing. He has two daughters: one went to London, +and came to harm, of a kind. The other I'd prick this vein for and bleed +to death, singing; and she hates me! I wish she did. She thought me +such a good young man! I never drank; went to bed early, was up at work +with the birds. Mr. Robert Armstrong! That changeing of my name was +like a lead cap on my head. I was never myself with it, felt hang-dog-- +it was impossible a girl could care for such a fellow as I was. Mother, +just listen: she's dark as a gipsy. She's the faithfullest, +stoutest-hearted creature in the world. She has black hair, large brown +eyes; see her once! She's my mate. I could say to her, 'Stand there; +take guard of a thing;' and I could be dead certain of her--she'd perish +at her post. Is the door locked? Lock the door; I won't be seen when I +speak of her. Well, never mind whether she's handsome or not. She isn't +a lady; but she's my lady; she's the woman I could be proud of. She +sends me to the devil! I believe a woman 'd fall in love with her +cheeks, they are so round and soft and kindly coloured. Think me a fool; +I am. And here am I, away from her, and I feel that any day harm may +come to her, and she 'll melt, and be as if the devils of hell were +mocking me. Who's to keep harm from her when I'm away? What can I do +but drink and forget? Only now, when I wake up from it, I'm a crawling +wretch at her feet. If I had her feet to kiss! I've never kissed her- +-never! And no man has kissed her. Damn my head! here's the ache coming +on. That's my last oath, mother. I wish there was a Bible handy, but +I'll try and stick to it without. My God! when I think of her, I fancy +everything on earth hangs still and doubts what's to happen. I'm like a +wheel, and go on spinning. Feel my pulse now. Why is it I can't stop +it? But there she is, and I could crack up this old world to know what's +coming. I was mild as milk all those days I was near her. My comfort +is, she don't know me. And that's my curse too! If she did, she'd know +as clear as day I'm her mate, her match, the man for her. I am, by +heaven!--that's an oath permitted. To see the very soul I want, and to +miss her! I'm down here, mother; she loves her sister, and I must learn +where her sister's to be found. One of those gentlemen up at Fairly's +the guilty man. I don't say which; perhaps I don't know. But oh, what a +lot of lightnings I see in the back of my head!" + +Robert fell back on the pillow. Mrs. Boulby wiped her eyes. Her +feelings were overwhelmed with mournful devotion to the passionate young +man; and she expressed them practically: "A rump-steak would never digest +in his poor stomach!" + +He seemed to be of that opinion too, for when, after lying till eleven, +he rose and appeared at the breakfast-table, he ate nothing but crumbs of +dry bread. It was curious to see his precise attention to the neatness +of his hat and coat, and the nervous eye he cast upon the clock, while +brushing and accurately fixing these garments. The hat would not sit as +he was accustomed to have it, owing to the bruise on his head, and he +stood like a woman petulant with her milliner before the glass; now +pressing the hat down till the pain was insufferable, and again trying +whether it presented him acceptably in the enforced style of his wearing +it. He persisted in this, till Mrs. Boulby's exclamation of wonder +admonished him of the ideas received by other eyes than his own. When we +appear most incongruous, we are often exposing the key to our characters; +and how much his vanity, wounded by Rhoda, had to do with his proceedings +down at Warbeach, it were unfair to measure just yet, lest his finer +qualities be cast into shade, but to what degree it affected him will be +seen. + +Mrs. Boulby's persuasions induced him to take a stout silver-topped +walking-stick of her husband's, a relic shaped from the wood of the Royal +George; leaning upon which rather more like a Naval pensioner than he +would have cared to know, he went forth to his appointment with the lady. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The park-sward of Fairly, white with snow, rolled down in long sweeps to +the salt water: and under the last sloping oak of the park there was a +gorse-bushed lane, green in Summer, but now bearing cumbrous blossom-- +like burdens of the crisp snow-fall. Mrs. Lovell sat on horseback here, +and alone, with her gauntleted hand at her waist, charmingly habited in +tone with the landscape. She expected a cavalier, and did not perceive +the approach of a pedestrian, but bowed quietly when Robert lifted his +hat. + +"They say you are mad. You see, I trust myself to you." + +"I wish I could thank you for your kindness, madam." + +"Are you ill?" + +"I had a fall last night, madam." + +The lady patted her horse's neck. + +"I haven't time to inquire about it. You understand that I cannot give +you more than a minute." + +She glanced at her watch. + +"Let us say five exactly. To begin: I can't affect to be ignorant of the +business which brings you down here. I won't pretend to lecture you +about the course you have taken; but, let me distinctly assure you, that +the gentleman you have chosen to attack in this extraordinary manner, has +done no wrong to you or to any one. It is, therefore, disgracefully +unjust to single him out. You know he cannot possibly fight you. I +speak plainly." + +"Yes, madam," said Robert. "I'll answer plainly. He can't fight a man +like me. I know it. I bear him no ill-will. I believe he's innocent +enough in this matter, as far as acts go." + +"That makes your behaviour to him worse!" + +Robert looked up into her eyes. + +"You are a lady. You won't be shocked at what I tell you." + +"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Lovell, hastily: "I have learnt--I am aware of the +tale. Some one has been injured or, you think so. I don't accuse you of +madness, but, good heavens! what means have you been pursuing! Indeed, +sir, let your feelings be as deeply engaged as possible, you have gone +altogether the wrong way to work." + +"Not if I have got your help by it, madam." + +"Gallantly spoken." + +She smiled with a simple grace. The next moment she consulted her watch. + +"Time has gone faster than I anticipated. I must leave you. Let this be +our stipulation" + +She lowered her voice. + +"You shall have the address you require. I will undertake to see her +myself, when next I am in London. It will be soon. In return, sir, +favour me with your word of honour not to molest this gentleman any +further. Will you do that? You may trust me." + +"I do, madam, with all my soul!" said Robert. + +"That's sufficient. I ask no more. Good morning." + +Her parting bow remained with him like a vision. Her voice was like the +tinkling of harp-strings about his ears. The colour of her riding-habit +this day, harmonious with the snow-faced earth, as well as the gentle +mission she had taken upon herself, strengthened his vivid fancy in +blessing her as something quite divine. + +He thought for the first time in his life bitterly of the great fortune +which fell to gentlemen in meeting and holding equal converse with so +adorable a creature; and he thought of Rhoda as being harshly earthly; +repulsive in her coldness as that black belt of water contrasted against +the snow on the shores. + +He walked some paces in the track of Mrs. Lovell's horse, till his doing +so seemed too presumptuous, though to turn the other way and retrace his +steps was downright hateful: and he stood apparently in profound +contemplation of a ship of war and the trees of the forest behind the +masts. Either the fatigue of standing, or emotion, caused his head to +throb, so that he heard nothing, not even men's laughter; but looking up +suddenly, he beheld, as in a picture, Mrs. Lovell with some gentlemen +walking their horses toward him. The lady gazed softly over his head, +letting her eyes drop a quiet recognition in passing; one or two of the +younger gentlemen stared mockingly. + +Edward Blancove was by Mrs. Lovell's side. His eyes fixed upon Robert +with steady scrutiny, and Robert gave him a similar inspection, though +not knowing why. It was like a child's open look, and he was feeling +childish, as if his brain had ceased to act. One of the older gentlemen, +with a military aspect, squared his shoulders, and touching an end of his +moustache, said, half challengingly,-- + +"You are dismounted to-day?" + +"I have only one horse," Robert simply replied. + +Algernon Blancove came last. He neither spoke nor looked at his enemy, +but warily clutched his whip. All went by, riding into line some paces +distant; and again they laughed as they bent forward to the lady, +shouting. + +"Odd, to have out the horses on a day like this," Robert thought, and +resumed his musing as before. The lady's track now led him homeward, for +he had no will of his own. Rounding the lane, he was surprised to see +Mrs. Boulby by the hedge. She bobbed like a beggar woman, with a rueful +face. + +"My dear," she said, in apology for her presence, "I shouldn't ha' +interfered, if there was fair play. I'm Englishwoman enough for that. +I'd have stood by, as if you was a stranger. Gentlemen always give fair +play before a woman. That's why I come, lest this appointment should ha' +proved a pitfall to you. Now you'll come home, won't you; and forgive +me?" + +"I'll come to the old Pilot now, mother," said Robert, pressing her hand. + +"That's right; and ain't angry with me for following of you?" + +"Follow your own game, mother." + +"I did, Robert; and nice and vexed I am, if I'm correct in what I heard +say, as that lady and her folk passed, never heeding an old woman's ears. +They made a bet of you, dear, they did." + +"I hope the lady won," said Robert, scarce hearing. + +"And it was she who won, dear. She was to get you to meet her, and give +up, and be beaten like, as far as I could understand their chatter; +gentlefolks laugh so when they talk; and they can afford to laugh, for +they has the best of it. But I'm vexed; just as if I'd felt big and had +burst. I want you to be peaceful, of course I do; but I don't like my +boy made a bet of." + +"Oh, tush, mother," said Robert impatiently. + +"I heard 'em, my dear; and complimenting the lady they was, as they +passed me. If it vexes you my thinking it, I won't, dear; I reelly +won't. I see it lowers you, for there you are at your hat again. It is +lowering, to be made a bet of. I've that spirit, that if you was well +and sound, I'd rather have you fighting 'em. She's a pleasant enough lady +to look at, not a doubt; small-boned, and slim, and fair." + +Robert asked which way they had gone. + +"Back to the stables, my dear; I heard 'em say so, because one gentleman +said that the spectacle was over, and the lady had gained the day; and +the snow was balling in the horses' feet; and go they'd better, before my +lord saw them out. And another said, you were a wild man she'd tamed; +and they said, you ought to wear a collar, with Mrs. Lovell's, her name, +graved on it. But don't you be vexed; you may guess they're not my +Robert's friends. And, I do assure you, Robert, your hat's neat, if +you'd only let it be comfortable: such fidgeting worries the brim. You're +best in appearance--and I always said it--when stripped for boxing. Hats +are gentlemen's things, and becomes them like as if a title to their +heads; though you'd bear being Sir Robert, that you would; and for that +matter, your hat is agreeable to behold, and not like the run of our +Sunday hats; only you don't seem easy in it. Oh, oh! my tongue's a yard +too long. It's the poor head aching, and me to forget it. It's because +you never will act invalidy; and I remember how handsome you were one day +in the field behind our house, when you boxed a wager with Simon Billet, +the waterman; and you was made a bet of then, for my husband betted on +you; and that's what made me think of comparisons of you out of your hat +and you in it." + +Thus did Mrs. Boulby chatter along the way. There was an eminence a +little out of the road, overlooking the Fairly stables. Robert left her +and went to this point, from whence he beheld the horsemen with the +grooms at the horses' heads. + +"Thank God, I've only been a fool for five minutes!" he summed up his +sensations at the sight. He shut his eyes, praying with all his might +never to meet Mrs. Lovell more. It was impossible for him to combat the +suggestion that she had befooled him; yet his chivalrous faith in women +led him to believe, that as she knew Dahlia's history, she would +certainly do her best for the poor girl, and keep her word to him. +The throbbing of his head stopped all further thought. It had become +violent. He tried to gather his ideas, but the effort was like that of +a light dreamer to catch the sequence of a dream, when blackness follows +close up, devouring all that is said and done. In despair, he thought +with kindness of Mrs. Boulby's brandy. + +"Mother," he said, rejoining her, "I've got a notion brandy can't hurt a +man when he's in bed. I'll go to bed, and you shall brew me some; and +you'll let no one come nigh me; and if I talk light-headed, it's blank +paper and scribble, mind that." + +The widow promised devoutly to obey all his directions; but he had begun +to talk light-headed before he was undressed. He called on the name of a +Major Waring, of whom Mrs. Boulby had heard him speak tenderly as a +gentleman not ashamed to be his friend; first reproaching him for not +being by, and then by the name of Percy, calling to him endearingly, and +reproaching himself for not having written to him. + +"Two to one, and in the dark!" he kept moaning "and I one to twenty, +Percy, all in broad day. Was it fair, I ask?" + +Robert's outcries became anything but "blank paper and scribble" to the +widow, when he mentioned Nic Sedgett's name, and said: "Look over his +right temple he's got my mark a second time." + +Hanging by his bedside, Mrs. Boulby strung together, bit by bit, the +history of that base midnight attack, which had sent her glorious boy +bleeding to her. Nic Sedgett; she could understand, was the accomplice +of one of the Fairly gentlemen; but of which one, she could not discover, +and consequently set him down as Mr. Algernon Blancove. + +By diligent inquiry, she heard that Algernon had been seen in company +with the infamous Nic, and likewise that the countenance of Nicodemus was +reduced to accept the consolation of a poultice, which was confirmation +sufficient. By nightfall Robert was in the doctor's hands, unconscious +of Mrs. Boulby's breach of agreement. His father and his aunt were +informed of his condition, and prepared, both of them, to bow their heads +to the close of an ungodly career. It was known over Warbeach, that +Robert lay in danger, and believed that he was dying. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +A fleet of South-westerly rainclouds had been met in mid-sky +Borrower to be dancing on Fortune's tight-rope above the old abyss +Childish faith in the beneficence of the unseen Powers who feed us +Dead Britons are all Britons, but live Britons are not quite brothers +He had no recollection of having ever dined without drinking wine +He tried to gather his ideas, but the effort was like that of a light dreamer +Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things +My first girl--she's brought disgrace on this house +Then, if you will not tell me +To be a really popular hero anywhere in Britain (must be a drinker) +You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Rhoda Fleming, v2 +by George Meredith + diff --git a/4422.zip b/4422.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a44832e --- /dev/null +++ b/4422.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3f6073 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #4422 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4422) |