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diff --git a/4607-h/4607-h.htm b/4607-h/4607-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..048c29b --- /dev/null +++ b/4607-h/4607-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,21572 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Love Me Little, Love Me Long + +Author: Charles Reade + + +Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4607] +This file was first posted on February 18, 2002 +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG + </h1> + <h2> + By Charles Reade + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + SHOULD these characters, imbedded in carpet incidents, interest the public + at all, they will probably reappear in more potent scenes. This design, + which I may never live to execute, is, I fear, the only excuse I can at + present offer for some pages, forming the twelfth chapter of this volume. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + NEARLY a quarter of a century ago, Lucy Fountain, a young lady of beauty + and distinction, was, by the death of her mother, her sole surviving + parent, left in the hands of her two trustees, Edward Fountain, Esq., of + Font Abbey, and Mr. Bazalgette, a merchant whose wife was Mrs. Fountain's + half-sister. + </p> + <p> + They agreed to lighten the burden by dividing it. She should spend half + the year with each trustee in turn, until marriage should take her off + their hands. + </p> + <p> + Our mild tale begins in Mr. Bazalgette's own house, two years after the + date of that arrangement. + </p> + <p> + The chit-chat must be your main clue to the characters. In life it is the + same. Men and women won't come to you ticketed, or explanation in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, you are a great comfort in a house; it is so nice to have some one + to pour out one's heart to; my husband is no use at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Bazalgette!” + </p> + <p> + “In that way. You listen to my faded illusions, to the aspirations of a + nature too finely organized, ah! to find its happiness in this rough, + selfish world. When I open my bosom to him, what does he do? Guess now—whistles.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I call that rude.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I; and then he whistles more and more.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, aunt, if any serious trouble or grief fell upon you, you would + find Mr. Bazalgette a much greater comfort and a better stay than poor + spiritless me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if the house took fire and fell about our ears, he would come out of + his shell, no doubt; or if the children all died one after another, poor + dear little souls; but those great troubles only come in stories. Give me + a friend that can sympathize with the real hourly mortifications of a too + susceptible nature; sit on this ottoman, and let me go on. Where was I + when Jones came and interrupted us? They always do just at the interesting + point.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain's face promptly wreathed itself into an expectant smile. She + abandoned her hand and her ear, and leaned her graceful person toward her + aunt, while that lady murmured to her in low and thrilling tones—his + eyes, his long hair, his imaginative expressions, his romantic projects of + frugal love; how her harsh papa had warned Adonis off the premises; how + Adonis went without a word (as pale as death, love), and soon after, in + his despair, flung himself—to an ugly heiress; and how this + disappointment had darkened her whole life, and so on. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, if Adonis had stood before her now, rolling his eyes, and his + phrases hot from the annuals, the flourishing matron might have sent him + to the servants' hall with a wave of her white and jeweled hand. But the + melody disarms this sort of brutal criticism—a woman's voice + relating love's young dream; and then the picture—a matron still + handsome pouring into a lovely virgin's ear the last thing she ought; the + young beauty's eyes mimicking sympathy; the ripe beauty's soft, delicious + accents—purr! purr! purr! + </p> + <p> + Crash overhead! a window smashed aie! aie! clatter! clatter! screams of + infantine rage and feminine remonstrance, feet pattering, and a general + hullabaloo, cut the soft recital in two. The ladies clasped hands, like + guilty things surprised. + </p> + <p> + Lucy sprang to her feet; the oppressed one sank slowly and gracefully + back, inch by inch, on the ottoman, with a sigh of ostentatious + resignation, and gazed, martyr-like, on the chandelier. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not go up to the nursery?” cried Lucy, in a flutter. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear,” replied the other, faintly, but as cool as a marble slab; “you + go; cast some of your oil upon those ever-troubled waters and then come + back and let us try once more.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain heard but half this sentence; she was already gliding up the + stairs. She opened the nursery door, and there stood in the middle of the + room “Original Sin.” Its name after the flesh was Master Reginald. It was + half-past six, had been baptized in church, after which every child + becomes, according to polemic divines of the day, “a little soul of + Christian fire” until it goes to a public school. And there it straddled, + two scarlet cheeks puffed out with rage, soft flaxen hair streaming, + cerulean eyes glowing, the poker grasped in two chubby fists. It had poked + a window in vague ire, and now threatened two females with extinction if + they riled it any more. + </p> + <p> + The two grown-up women were discovered, erect, but flat, in distant + corners, avoiding the bayonet and trusting to their artillery. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Wicked boy!” + “Naughty boy!” (grape.) + “Little ruffian!” etc. +</pre> + <p> + And hints as to the ultimate destination of so sanguinary a soul (round + shot). + </p> + <p> + “Ah! here's miss. Oh, miss, we are so glad you are come up; don't go anigh + him, miss; he is a tiger.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain smiled, and went gracefully on one knee beside him. This + brought her angelic face level with the fallen cherub's. “What is the + matter, dear?” asked she, in a tone of soft pity. + </p> + <p> + The tiger was not prepared for this: he dropped his poker and flung his + little arm round his cousin's neck. + </p> + <p> + “I love YOU. Oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; then tell me, now—what is the matter? What have you been + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Noth—noth—nothing—it's th—them been na—a—agging + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nagging you?” and she smiled at the word and a tiger's horror of it. + </p> + <p> + “Who has been nagging you, love?” + </p> + <p> + “Th—those—bit—bit—it.” The word was unfortunately + lost in a sob. It was followed by red faces and two simultaneous yells of + remonstrance and objurgation. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you to be silent a minute,” said Miss Fountain, quietly. + “Reginald, what do you mean by—by—nagging?” + </p> + <p> + Reginald explained. “By nagging he meant—why—nagging.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, what had they been doing to him?” + </p> + <p> + No; poor Reginald was not analytical, dialectical and critical, like + certain pedanticules who figure in story as children. He was a terrible + infant, not a horrible one. + </p> + <p> + “They won't fight and they won't make it up, and they keep nagging,” was + all could be got out of him. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, dear,” said Lucy, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented the tiger, softly, and went out awestruck, holding her + hand, and paddling three steps to each of her serpentine glides. + </p> + <p> + Seated in her own room, tiger at knee, she tried topics of admonition. + During these his eyes wandered about the room in search of matter more + amusing, so she was obliged to bring up her reserve. + </p> + <p> + “And no young lady will ever marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want them to, cousin; I wouldn't let them; you will marry me, + because you promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know you did—upon your honor; and no lady or gentleman + ever breaks their word when they say that; you told me so yourself,” added + he of the inconvenient memory. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but there is another rule that I forgot to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “That no lady ever marries a gentleman who has a violent temper.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't they?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they would be afraid. If you had a wife, and took up the poker, she + would faint away, and die—perhaps!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “I should.” + </p> + <p> + “But, cousin, you would not <i>want</i> the poker taken to you; you never + nag.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that is because we are not married yet.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, when we are, shall you turn like the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then” (after a moment's hesitation), “I'll marry you all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “No! you forget; I shall be afraid until your temper mends.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll mend it. It is mended now. See how good I am now,” added he, with + self-admiration and a shade of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I don't call this mending it, for I am not the one that offended you; + mending it is promising me never, never to call naughty names again. How + would you like to be called a dog?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd kill 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see—then how can you expect poor nurse to like it?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand, cousin—Tom said to George the groom that Mrs. + Jones was an—old—stingy—b—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to hear anything about Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “He is such a clever fellow, cousin. So I think, if Jones is an old one, + those two that keep nagging me must be young ones. What do you think + yourself?” asked Reginald, appealing suddenly to her candor. + </p> + <p> + “And no doubt it was Tom that taught you this other vulgar word + 'nagging,'” was the evasive reply. + </p> + <p> + “No, that was mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored, wheeled quickly, and demanded severely of the terrible + infant: “Who is this Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “What! don't you know Tom?” Reginald began to lose a grain of his respect + for her. “Why, he helps in the stables; oh, cousin, he is such a nice + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald, I shall never marry you if you keep company with grooms, and + speak their language.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” sighed the victim, “I'll give up Tom sooner than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear; now I <i>am</i> flattered. One struggle more; we must go + together and ask the nurses' pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “Must we? ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and kiss them—and make it up.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald made a wry face; but, after a pause of solemn reflection, he + consented, on condition that Lucy would keep near him, and kiss him + directly afterward. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be sure to do that, because you will be a good boy then.” + </p> + <p> + Outside the door Reginald paused: “I have a favor to ask you, cousin—a + great favor. You see I am so very little, and you are so big; now the + husband ought to be the biggest.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite my own opinion, Reggy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till I + catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as long + as my friends will let me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not what we have in hand.” + </p> + <p> + The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that + little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. “Nurse, + here is a penitent—a young gentleman who is never going to use rude + words, or be violent and naughty again.” + </p> + <p> + “La! miss, why, it is witchcraft—the dear child—soon up and + soon down, as a boy should.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg par'n, nurse—beg par'n, Kitty,” recited the dear child, late + tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone + through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the nurses + were reciting “little angel,” “all heart,” etc. + </p> + <p> + “To take the taste out of my mouth,” explained the penitent, and was left + with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short intervals + until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future union with + Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the pins and + needles that had goaded him to fury before. + </p> + <p> + Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning with + one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished forehead; her + grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the uttermost. So Newton + looked, solving Nature. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching sight of + so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The oracle looked up with an absorbed air, and delivered itself very + slowly, with eye turned inward. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid—I don't think—I quite like my new dress.” + </p> + <p> + “That <i>is</i> unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “That would not matter; I never like anything till I have altered it; but + here is Baldwin has just sent me word that her mother is dying, and she + can't undertake any work for a week. Provoking! could not the woman die + just as well after the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt!” + </p> + <p> + “And my maid has no more taste than an owl. What on earth am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wear another dress.” + </p> + <p> + “What other can I?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be prettier than your white mousseline de soie with the + tartan trimming.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have worn that at four balls already; I won't be known by my + colors, like a bird. I have made up my mind to wear the jaune, and I will, + in spite of them all; that is, if I can find anybody who cares enough for + me to try it on, and tell me what it wants.” Lucy offered at once to go + with her to her room and try it on. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—it is so cold there; we will do it here by the fire. + You will find it in the large wardrobe, dear. Mind how you carry it. Lucy! + lots of pins.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette then rang the bell, and told the servant to say she was + out if anyone called, no matter who. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lucy, impressed with the gravity of her office, took the dress + carefully down from the pegs; and as it would have been death to crease + it, and destruction to let its hem sweep against any of the inferior forms + of matter, she came down the stairs and into the room holding this female + weapon of destruction as high above her head as Judith waves the sword of + Holofernes in Etty's immortal picture. + </p> + <p> + The other had just found time to loosen her dress and lock one of the + doors. She now locked the other, and the rites began. Well!!?? + </p> + <p> + “It fits you like a glove.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? tell the truth now; it is a sin to tell a story—about a new + gown. What a nuisance one can't see behind one!” + </p> + <p> + “I could fetch another glass, but you may trust my word, aunt. This point + behind is very becoming; it gives distinction to the waist.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Baldwin cuts these bodies better than Olivier; but the worst of her + is, when it comes to the trimming you have to think for yourself. The + woman has no mind; she is a pair of hands, and there is an end of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess it is a little plain, for one thing,” said Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you little goose, you don't think I am going to wear it like this. + No. I thought of having down a wreath and bouquet from Foster's of violets + and heart's-ease—the bosom and sleeves covered with blond, you know, + and caught up here and there with a small bunch of the flowers. Then, in + the center heart's-ease of the bosom, I meant to have had two of my + largest diamonds set—hush!” + </p> + <p> + The door-handle worked viciously; then came rap! rap! rap! rap! + </p> + <p> + “Tic—tic—tic; this is always the way. Who is there? Go away; + you can't come here.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to speak to you. What the deuce are you doing?” said through + the keyhole the wretch that owned the room in a mere legal sense. + </p> + <p> + “We are trying a dress. Come again in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound your dresses! Who is we?” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy has got a new dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt!” whispered Lucy, in a tone of piteous expostulation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if it is Lucy. Well, good-by, ladies. I am obliged to go to London at + a moment's notice for a couple of days. You will have done by when I come + back, perhaps,” and off went Bazalgette whistling, but not best pleased. + He had told his wife more than once that the drawing-rooms and + dining-rooms of a house are the public rooms, and the bedrooms the private + ones. + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored with mortification. It was death to her to annoy anyone; so + her aunt had thrust her into a cruel position. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. Bazalgette!” sighed she. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddle de dee. Let him go, and come back in a better temper—set + transparent; so then, backed by the violet, you know, they will imitate + dewdrops to the life.” + </p> + <p> + “Charming! Why not let Olivier do it for you, as poor Baldwin cannot?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Olivier works for the Claytons, and we should have that Emily + Clayton out as my double; and as we visit the same houses—” + </p> + <p> + “And as she is extremely pretty—aunt, what a generalissima you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty! Snub-nosed little toad. No, she is not pretty. But she is + eighteen; so I can't afford to dress her. No. I see I shall have to + moderate my views for this gown, and buy another dress for the flowers and + diamonds. There, take it off, and let us think it calmly over. I never act + in a hurry but I am sorry for it afterward—I mean in things of real + importance.” The gown was taken off in silence, broken only by occasional + sighs from the sufferer, in whose heart a dozen projects battled fiercely + for the mastery, and worried and sore perplexed her, and rent her inmost + soul fiercely divers ways. + </p> + <p> + “Black lace, dear,” suggested Lucy, soothingly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. curled her arm lovingly round Lucy's waist. “Just what I was + beginning to think,” said she, warmly. “And we can't both be mistaken, can + we? But where can I get enough?” and her countenance, that the cheering + coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded with doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have yards of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses one's + things so to pick them to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “So it does, dear,” replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling. + </p> + <p> + “It would only be for one night, Lucy—I should not hurt it, love—you + would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it + would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack it on + again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am—you look + well in anything.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The + latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and gesture. + </p> + <p> + “You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery.” + </p> + <p> + “Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most in + fault, if you think it worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the + influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep him + out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their paradise. + When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let us talk of + something more agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of despair + when your papa came in that morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of nothing + but this detestable gown. Lucy, I suspect I almost wish I had made them + put another breadth into the skirt.” + </p> + <p> + “Luncheon, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy begged her aunt to go down alone; she would stay and work. + </p> + <p> + “No, you must come to luncheon; there is a dish on purpose for you—stewed + eels.” + </p> + <p> + “Eels; why, I abhor them; I think they are water-serpents.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it that is so fond of them, then?” + </p> + <p> + “It is you, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is. I thought it had been you. Come, you must come down, whether + you eat anything or not. I like somebody to talk to me while I am eating, + and I had an idea just now—it is gone—but perhaps it will come + back to me: it was about this abominable gown. O! how I wish there was not + such a thing as dress in the world!!!” + </p> + <p> + While Mrs. Bazalgette was munching water-snakes with delicate zeal, and + Lucy nibbling cake, came a letter. Mrs. Bazalgette read it with + heightening color, laid it down, cast a pitying glance on Lucy, and said, + with a sigh, “Poor girl!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy turned a little pale. “Has anything happened?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Something is going to happen; you are to be torn away from here, where + you are so happy—where we all love you, dear. It is from that + selfish old bachelor. Listen: 'Dear madam, my niece Lucy has been due here + three days. I have waited to see whether you would part with her without + being dunned. My curiosity on that point is satisfied, and I have now only + my affection to consult, which I do by requesting you to put her and her + maid into a carriage that will be waiting for her at your door twenty-four + hours after you receive this note. I have the honor to be, madam,' an old + brute!!” + </p> + <p> + “And you can smile; but that is you all over; you don't care a straw + whether you are happy or miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Not you; you will leave this, where you are a little queen, and go and + bury yourself three months with that old bachelor, and nobody will ever + gather from your face that you are bored to death; and here we are asked + to the Cavendishes' next Wednesday, and the Hunts' ball on Friday—you + are such a lucky girl—our best invitations always drop in while you + are with us—we go out three times as often during your months as at + other times; it is your good fortune, or the weather, or something.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear aunt, this was your own arrangement with Uncle Fountain. I used to + be six months with each in turn till you insisted on its being three. You + make me almost laugh, both you and Uncle Fountain; what <i>do</i> you see + in me worth quarreling for?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you what <i>he</i> sees—a good little spiritless thing—” + </p> + <p> + “I am larger than you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in body—that he can make a slave of—always ready to + nurse him and his foe, or to put down your work and to take up his—to + play at his vile backgammon.” + </p> + <p> + “Piquet, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the difference?—to share his desolation, and take half his + blue devils on your own shoulders, till he will hyp you so that to get + away you will consent to marry into his set—the county set—some + beggarly old family that came down from the Conquest, and has been going + down ever since; so then he will let you fly—with a string: you must + vegetate two miles from him; so then he can have you in to Backquette and + write his letters: he will settle four hundred a year on you, and you will + be miserable for life.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Uncle Fountain, what a schemer he turns out!” + </p> + <p> + “Men all turn out schemers when you know them, Miss Impertinence. Well, + dear, I have no selfish views for you. I love my few friends too + single-heartedly for that; but I <i>am</i> sad when I see you leaving us + to go where you are not prized.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, aunt, I am prized at Font Abbey. I am overrated there as I am + here. They all receive me with open arms.” + </p> + <p> + “So is a hare when it comes into a trap,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply, + drawing upon a limited knowledge of grammar and field-sports. + </p> + <p> + “No—Uncle Fountain really loves me.” + </p> + <p> + “As much as I do?” asked the lady, with a treacherous smile. + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly,” was the young courtier's reply. She went on to console her + aunt's unselfish solicitude, by assuring her that Font Abbey was not a + solitude; that dinners and balls abounded, and her uncle was invited to + them all. + </p> + <p> + “You little goose, don't you see? all those invitations are for your sake, + not his. If we could look in on him now we should find him literally in + single cursedness. Those county folks are not without cunning. They say + beauty has come to stay with the beast; we must ask the beast to dinner, + so then beauty will come along with him. + </p> + <p> + “What other pleasure awaits you at Font Abbey?” + </p> + <p> + “The pleasure of giving pleasure,” replied Lucy, apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is your weakness, Lucy. It is all very well with those who won't + take advantage; but it is the wrong game to play with all the world. You + will be made a tool of, and a slave of, and use of. I speak from + experience. You know how I sacrifice myself to those I love; luckily, they + are not many.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so many as love you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! but you are at the head of them all, and I am going to + prove it—by deeds, not words.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked up at this additional feature in her aunt's affection. + </p> + <p> + “You must go to the great bear's den for three months, but it shall be the + last time!” Lucy said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You will return never to quit us, or, at all events, not the + neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “That—would be nice,” said the courtier warmly, but hesitatingly; + “but how will you gain uncle's consent?” + </p> + <p> + “By dispensing with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the means, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “A husband!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy started and colored all over, and looked askant at her aunt with + opening eyes, like a thoroughbred filly just going to start all across the + road. Mrs. Bazalgette laid a loving hand on her shoulder, and whispered + knowingly in her ear: “Trust to me; I'll have one ready for you against + you come back this time.” + </p> + <p> + “No, please don't! pray don't!” cried Lucy, clasping her hands in + feeble-minded distress. + </p> + <p> + “In this neighborhood—one of the right sort.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so happy as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be happier when you are quite a slave, and so I shall save you + from being snapped up by some country wiseacre, and marry you into our own + set.” + </p> + <p> + “Merchant princes,” suggested Lucy, demurely, having just recovered her + breath and what little sauce there was in her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, merchant princes—the men of the age—the men who could + buy all the acres in the country without feeling it—the men who make + this little island great, and a woman happy, by letting her have + everything her heart can desire.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean everything that money can buy.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I said so, didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “So, then, you are tired of me in the house?” remonstrated Lucy, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “No, ingrate; but you will be sure to marry soon or late.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not, if I can possibly help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can't help it; you are not the character to help it. The first + man that comes to you and says: 'I know you rather dislike me' (you could + not hate anybody, Lucy,) 'but if you don't take me I shall die of a broken + fiddlestick,' you will whine out, 'Oh, dear! shall you? Well, then, sooner + than disoblige you, here—take me!'” + </p> + <p> + “Am I so weak as this?” asked Lucy, coloring, and the water coming into + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be offended,” said the other, coolly; “we won't call it weakness, + but excess of complaisance; you can't say no to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I have said it,” replied Lucy, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Have you? When? Oh, to me. Yes; where I am concerned you have sometimes a + will of your own, and a pretty stout one; but never with anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + The aunt then inquired of the niece, “frankly, now, between ourselves,” + whether she had no wish to be married. The niece informed her in + confidence that she had not, and was puzzled to conceive how the bare idea + of marriage came to be so tempting to her sex. Of course, she could + understand a lady wishing to marry, if she loved a gentleman who was + determined to be unhappy without her; but that women should look about for + some hunter to catch instead of waiting quietly till the hunter caught + them, this puzzled her; and as for the superstitious love of females for + the marriage rite in cases when it took away their liberty and gave them + nothing amiable in return, it amazed her. “So, aunt,” she concluded, “if + you really love me, driving me to the altar will be an unfortunate way of + showing it.” + </p> + <p> + While listening to this tirade, which the young lady delivered with great + serenity, and concluded with a little yawn, Mrs. Bazalgette had two + thoughts. The first was: “This girl is not flesh and blood; she is made of + curds and whey, or something else;” the second was: “No, she is a shade + hypocriticaler than other girls—before they are married, that is + all;” and, acting on this latter conviction, she smiled a lofty + incredulity, and fell to counting on her fingers all the moneyed bachelors + for miles. + </p> + <p> + At this Lucy winced with sensitive modesty, and for once a shade of + vexation showed itself on her lovely features. The quick-sighted, + keen-witted matron caught it, and instantly made a masterly move of + feigned retreat. “No,” cried she, “I will not tease you anymore, love; + just promise me not to receive any gentleman's addresses at Font Abbey, + and I will never drive you from my arms to the altar.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise that,” cried Lucy, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Upon your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, dear. I know you won't deceive me now you have pledged your + honor. This solemn promise consoles me more than you can conceive.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad; but if you knew how little it costs me.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better; you will be more likely to keep it,” was the dry reply. + </p> + <p> + The conversation then took a more tender turn. “And so to-morrow you go! + How dull the house will be without you! and who is to keep my brats in + order now I have no idea. Well, there is nothing but meeting and parting + in this world; it does not do to love people, does it? (ah!) Don't cry, + love, or I shall give way; my desolate heart already brims over—no—now + don't cry” (a little sharply); “the servants will be coming in to take + away the things.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you c—c—come and h—help me pack, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Me, love? oh no! I could not bear the sight of your things put out to go + away. I promised to call on Mrs. Hunt this afternoon; and you must not + stop in all day yourself—I cannot let your health be sacrificed; you + had better take a brisk walk, and pack afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, aunt. I will go and finish my drawing of Harrowden Church to + take with me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, don't go there; the meadows are wet. Walk upon the Hatton road; it is + all gravel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only it is so ugly, and I have nothing to do that way.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'll give you something to do,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, obligingly. + “You know where old Sarah and her daughter live—the last cottages on + that road; I don't like the shape of the last two collars they made me; + you can take them back, if you like, and lend them one of yours I admire + so for a pattern.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will, with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you come back through the garden? If you don't—never mind; + but, if you do, you may choose me a bouquet. The servants are incapable of + a bouquet.” + </p> + <p> + “I will; thank you, dear. How kind and thoughtful of you to give me + something to occupy me now that I am a little sad.” Mrs. Bazalgette + accepted this tribute with a benignant smile, and the ladies parted. + </p> + <p> + The next morning a traveling-carriage, with four smoking post-horses, came + wheeling round the gravel to the front door. Uncle Fountain's factotum got + down from the dicky, packed Lucy's imperial on the roof, and slung a box + below the dicky; stowed her maid away aft, arranged the foot-cushion and a + shawl or two inside, and, half obsequiously, half bumptiously, awaited the + descent of his fair charge. + </p> + <p> + Then, upstairs, came a sudden simultaneous attack of ardent lips, and a + long, clinging embrace that would have graced the most glorious, + passionate, antique love. Sculpture outdone, the young lady went down, and + was handed into the carriage. Her ardent aunt followed presently, and + fired many glowing phrases in at the window; and, just as the carriage + moved, she uttered a single word quite quietly, as much as to say, Now, + this I mean. This genuine word, the last Aunt Bazalgette spoke, had been, + two hundred years before, the last word of Charles the First. Note the + coincidences of history. + </p> + <p> + The two postboys lifted their whips level to their eyes by one instinct, + the horses tightened the traces, the wheels ground the gravel, and Lucy + was whirled away with that quiet, emphatic post-dict ringing in her ears, + </p> + <p> + Remember! + </p> + <p> + Font Hill was sixty miles off: they reached it in less than six hours. + There was Uncle Fountain on the hall steps to receive her, and the comely + housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, ducking and smiling in the background. While the + servants were unpacking the carriage, Mr. Fountain took Lucy to her + bedroom. Mrs. Brown had gone on before to see for the third time whether + all was comfortable. There was a huge fire, all red; and on the table a + gigantic nosegay of spring flowers, with smell to them all. + </p> + <p> + “Oh how nice, after a journey!” said Lucy, mowing down Uncle Fountain and + Mrs. Brown with one comprehensive smile. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brown flamed with complacency. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried her uncle; “I suppose you expected a black fire and + impertinent apologies by way of substitute for warmth; a stuffy room, and + damp sheets, roasted, like a woodcock, twenty minutes before use.” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle, dear, I expected every comfort at Font Abbey.” Brown retired + with a courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! What! you have found out that it is all humbug about old bachelors + not knowing comfort? Do bachelors ever put their friends into damp sheets? + No; that is the women's trick with their household science. Your sex have + killed more men with damp sheets than ever fell by the sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet nobody erects monuments to us,” put in Lucy, slyly. + </p> + <p> + She missed fire. Uncle Fountain, like most Englishmen, could take in a pun + by the ear, but wit only by the eye. “Do you remember when Mrs. Bazalgette + put you into the linen sponge, and killed you?” + </p> + <p> + “Killed me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, as far as in her lay. We can but do our best; well, she did + hers, and went the right way to work.” + </p> + <p> + “You see I survive.” + </p> + <p> + “By a miracle. Dinner is at six.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but six in this house means sixty minutes after five and sixty + minutes before seven. I mention this the first day because you are just + come from a place where it means twenty minutes to seven; also let me + observe that I think I have noticed soup and potatoes eat better hot than + cold, and meat tastes nicer done to a turn than—” + </p> + <p> + “To a cinder?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! and come with an appetite, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, no tyranny, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + “Tyranny? you know this is Liberty Hall; only when I eat I expect my + companion to-eat too; besides, there is nothing to be gained by humbug + to-day. There will be only us two at dinner; and when I see young ladies + fiddling with an asparagus head instead of eating their dinner, it don't + fall into the greenhorn's notion—exquisite creature! all soul! no + stomach! feeds on air, ideas, and quadrille music—no; what do you + think I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Something flattering, I feel sure.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, something true. I say hypocrite! Been grubbing like a + pig all day, so can't eat like a Christian at meal time; you can't humbug + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! so I see. That decides me to be candid—and hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am off; I don't stick to my friends and bore them with my affairs + like that egotistical hussy, Jane Bazalgette. I amuse myself, and leave + them to amuse themselves; that is my notion of politeness. I am going to + see my pigs fed, then into the village. I am building a new blacksmith's + shop there (you must come and look at it the first thing to-morrow); and + at six, if you want to find me—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall peep behind the soup-tureen.” + </p> + <p> + “And there I shall be, if I am alive.” At dinner the old boy threw himself + into the work with such zeal that soon after the cloth was removed, from + fatigue and repletion, he dropped asleep, with his shoulder toward Lucy, + but his face instinctively turned toward the fire. Lucy crept away on + tiptoe, not to disturb him. + </p> + <p> + In about an hour he bustled into the drawing-room, ordered tea, blew up + the footman because the cook had not water boiling that moment, drank + three cups, then brightened up, rubbed his hands, and with a cheerful, + benevolent manner, “Now, Lucy,” cried he, “come and help me puzzle out + this tiresome genealogy.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of warm assent from Lucy, and the old bachelor and the blooming + Hebe were soon seated with a mountain of parchments by their side, and a + tree spreading before them. + </p> + <p> + It was not a finite tree like an elm or an oak; no, it was a banyan tree; + covered an acre, and from its boughs little suckers dropped to earth, and + turned to little trees, and had suckers in their turn, and “confounded the + confusion.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Fountain's happiness depended, <i>pro tem,</i> on proving that he + was a sucker from the great bough of the Fontaines of Melton; and why? + Because, this effected, he had only to go along that bough by an + established pedigree to the great trunk of the Funteyns of Salle, and the + first Funteyn of Salle was said to be (and this he hoped to prove true) + great-grandson of Robert de Fontibus, son of John de Fonte. + </p> + <p> + Now Uncle Fountain could prove himself the shoot of George his father (a + step at which so many pedigrees halt), who was the shoot of William, who + was the shoot of Richard; but here came a gap of eighty years between him + and that Fountain, younger son of Melton, to whom he wanted to hook on. + Now the logic of women, children, and criticasters is a thing of gaps; + they reason as marches a kangaroo; but to mathematicians, logicians, and + genealogists, a link wanting is a chain broken. This blank then made Uncle + Fountain miserable, and he cried out for help. Lucy came with her young + eyes, her woman's patience, and her own complaisance. A great ditch yawned + between a crocheteer and a rotten branch he coveted. Our Quinta Curtia + flung herself, her eyesight, and her time into that ditch. + </p> + <p> + Twelve o'clock came, and found them still wallowing in modern antiquity. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” cried Mr. Fountain when John brought up the bed-candles, “how + time flies when one is really employed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, uncle;” and by a gymnastic of courtesy she first crushed and + then so molded a yawn that it glided into society a smile. + </p> + <p> + “We have spent a delightful evening, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to you, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will sleep well, child.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I shall, dear,” said she, sweetly and inadvertently. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + A LARGE aspiration is a rarity; but who has not some small ambition, none + the less keen for being narrow—keener, perhaps? Mrs. Bazalgette + burned to be great by dress; Mr. Fountain, member of a sex with higher + aims, aspired to be great in the county. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily, his main property was in the funds. He had acres in ——shire; + but so few that, some years ago, its lord lieutenant declined to make him + an injustice of the peace. That functionary died, and on his death the + mortified aspirant bought a coppice, christened it Springwood, and under + cover of this fringe to his three meadows, applied to the new lord + lieutenant as M'Duff approached M'Beth. The new man made him a magistrate; + so now he aspired to be a deputy lieutenant, and attended all the boards + of magistrates, and turnpike trusts, etc., and brought up votes and + beer-barrels at each election, and, in, short, played all the cards in his + pack, Lucy included, to earn that distinction. + </p> + <p> + We may as well confess that there lurked in him a half-unconscious hope + that some day or other, in some strange collision or combination of + parties, a man profound in county business, zealous in county interests, + personally obnoxious to nobody, might drop into the seat of county member; + and, if this should be, would not he have the sense to hold his tongue + upon the noisy questions that waste Parliament's time, and the nation's; + but, on the first of those periodical attacks to which the wretched + landowner is subject, wouldn't he speak, and show the difference between a + mere member of the Commons and a member for the county? + </p> + <p> + If anyone had asked this man plump which is the most important, England or + ——shire, he would have certainly told you England; but our + opinions are not the notions we repeat, and can defend by reasons or even + by facts: our opinions are the notions we feel and act on. + </p> + <p> + Could you have looked inside Mr. Fountain's head, you would have seen + ideas corresponding to the following diagrams: + </p> + <p> + [drawing] + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain courted the stomach of the county. + </p> + <p> + Without this, he knew, an angel could not reach its heart; and here one of + his eccentricities broke out. He drew a line, in his dictatorial way, + between dinner and feeding parties. “A dinner party is two rubbers. Four + gentlemen and four ladies sit round a circular table; then each can hear + what anyone says, and need not twist the neck at every word. Foraging + parties are from fourteen to thirty, set up and down a plank, each + separated from those he could talk to as effectually as if the ocean + rolled between, and bawling into one person's ear amid the din of knives, + forks, and multitude. I go to those long strings of noisy duets because I + must, but I give <i>society</i> at home.” + </p> + <p> + The county people had just strength of mind to like the old boy's sociable + dinners, though not to imitate them, and an invitation from him was very + rarely declined when Lucy was with him. + </p> + <p> + And she was in her glory. She could carry complaisance such a long way at + Font Abbey—she was mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + She listened with a wonderful appearance of interest to county matters, + i.e., to minute scandal and infinitesimal politics; to the county cricket + match and archery meeting; to the past ball and the ball to come. In the + drawing-room, when a cold fit fell on the coterie, she would glide to one + egotist after another, find out the monotope, and set the critter Peter's, + the Place de Concorde, the Square of St. Mark, Versailles, the Alhambra, + the Apollo Belvidere, the Madonna of the Chair, and all the glories of + nature and the feats of art could not warm. So, then, the fine gentleman + began to act—to walk himself out as a person who had seen and could + give details about anything, but was exalted far above admiring anything + <i>(quel grand homme! rien ne peut lui plaire);</i> and on this, while the + women were gazing sweetly on him, and revering his superiority to all + great impressions, and the men envying, rather hating, but secretly + admiring him too, she who had launched him bent on him a look of soft + pity, and abandoned him to admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. Talboys,” thought she, “I fear I have done him an ill turn by + drawing him out;” and she glided to her uncle, who was sitting apart, and + nobody talking to him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys, started by Lucy, ambled out his high-pacing <i>nil admirantem</i> + character, and derived a little quiet self-satisfaction. This was the + highest happiness he was capable of; so he was not ungrateful to Miss + Fountain, who had procured it him, and partly for this, partly because he + had been kind to her and lent her a pony, he shook hands with her somewhat + cordially at parting. As it happened, he was the last guest. + </p> + <p> + “You have won that, man's heart, Lucy,” cried Mr. Fountain, with a mixture + of surprise and pride. + </p> + <p> + Lucy made no reply. She looked quickly into his face to see if he was + jesting. + </p> + <p> + “Writing, Lucy—so late?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a few lines, uncle. You shall see them; I note the more remarkable + phenomena of society. I am recalling a conversation between three of our + guests this evening, and shall be grateful for your opinion on it. There! + Read it out, please.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Luttrell. “We missed you at the archery meeting—ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Willis. “Mr. Willis would not let me go—he! he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. James. “Well, at all events—he! he!—you will come to the + flower show.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Willis. “Oh yes!—he! he!—I am so fond of flowers—ha! + ha!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Luttrell. “So am I. I adore them—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Willis. “How sweetly Miss Malcolm sings—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Luttrell. “Yes, she shakes like a bird—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. James. “A little Scotch accent though—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Luttrell. “She is Scotch—he! he!” (To John offering her tea.) + “No more, thank you—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. James. “Shall you go the Assize sermon?—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Willis. “Oh, yes—he! he!—the last was very dry—he! + he! Who preaches it this term?—he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. James. “The Bishop—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Willis. “Then I shall certainly go; he is such a dear preacher—he! + he!” + </p> + <p> + “Just tell me what is the precise meaning of 'ha! ha!' and what of 'he! + he!'” + </p> + <p> + “The precise meaning? There you puzzle me, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, what do you mean by them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I put 'ha! ha!' when they giggle, and 'he! he!' when they only + chuckle.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this is a caricature, my lady?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, you know I have no satire in me; it is taken down to the + letter, and I fear I must trouble you for the solution.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the solution is, they are three fools.” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle, begging your pardon, they are not,” replied Lucy, politely but + firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, three d—d fools.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy winced at the participle, but was two polite to lecture her elder. + “They have not that excuse,” said she; “they are all sensible women, who + discharge the duties of life with discretion except society; and they can + discriminate between grave and gay whenever they are not at a party; and + as for Mrs. Luttrell, when she is alone with me she is a sweet, natural + love.” + </p> + <p> + “They cackled—at every word—like that—the whole + evening!!??” + </p> + <p> + “Except when you told that funny story about the Irish corporal who was + attacked by a mastiff, and killed him with his halberd, and, when he was + reproached by his captain for not being content to repel so valuable an + animal with the butt end of his lance, answered—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “So, then, he answered 'Haw! haw!' did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, uncle! No; he answered, 'So I would, your arnr, if he had run at me + with his tail!' Now, that was genuine wit, mixed with quite enough fun to + make an intelligent person laugh; and then you told it so drolly—ha! + ha!” + </p> + <p> + “They did not laugh at <i>that?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Sat as grave as judges.” + </p> + <p> + “And you tell me they are not fools.” + </p> + <p> + “I must repeat, they have not that excuse. Perhaps their risibility had + been exhausted. After laughing three hours <i>a propos de rien,</i> it is + time to be serious out of place. I will tell you what they <i>did</i> + laugh at, though. Miss Malcolm sang a song with a title I dare not + attempt. There were two lines in it which I am going to mispronounce; but + you are not Scotch, so I don't care for <i>you,</i> uncle, darling. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'He had but a saxpence; he break it in twa, + And he gave me the half o't when he gaed awa.' +</pre> + <p> + “They laughed at that; a general giggle went round.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must confess, I don't see much to laugh at in that, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be odd if you did, uncle, dear; why, it is pathetic.” + </p> + <p> + “Pathetic? Oh, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You naughty, cunning uncle, you know it is; it is pathetic, and almost + heroic. Consider, dear: in a world where the very newspapers show how + mercenary we all are, a poor young man is parted from his love. He has but + one coin to go through the world with, and what does he do with it? Scheme + to make the sixpence a crown, and to make the crown a pound? No; he breaks + this one treasure in two, that both the poor things may have a silver + token of love and a pledge of his return. I am sure, if the poet had been + here, he would have been quite angry with us for laughing at that line.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your temper. Why, this is new from you, Lucy; but you women of sugar + can all cauterize your own sex; the theme inspires you.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, how dare you! Are you not afraid I shall be angry one of these + days, dear!!? The gentlemen were equally concerned in this last enormity. + Poor Jemmy, or Jammy, with his devotion and tenderness that soothed, and + his high spirit that supported the weaker vessel, was as funny to our male + as to our female guests—so there. I saw but one that understood him, + and did not laugh at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Talboys, for a pound.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Talboys? no! <i>You,</i> dear uncle; you did not laugh; I noticed it + with all a niece's pride.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I didn't. Can I hear a word these ladies mew? can I tell in + what language even they are whining and miauling? I have given up trying + this twenty years and more.” + </p> + <p> + “I return to my question,” said Lucy hastily. + </p> + <p> + “And I to my solution; your three graces are three d—d fools. If you + can account for it in any other way, do.” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle dear. If you had happened to agree with me beforehand, I would; + but as you do not, I beg to be excused. But keep the paper, and the next + time listen to the talk and unmeaning laughter; you will find I have not + exaggerated, and some day, dear, I will tell you how my mamma used to + account for similar monstrosities in society.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is a mysterious little toad. Well, Lucy, for all this you enjoyed + yourself. I never saw you in better spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you saw that,” said Lucy, with a languid smile. + </p> + <p> + “And how Talboys came out.” + </p> + <p> + “He did,” sighed Lucy. + </p> + <p> + Here the young lady lighted softly on an ottoman, and sank gracefully back + with a weary-o'-the-world air; and when she had settled down like so much + floss silk, fixing her eye on the ceiling, and doling her words out + languidly yet thoughtfully—just above a whisper, “Uncle, darling,” + inquired she, “where are the men we have all heard of?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? What men?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the men of sentiment, that can understand a woman, and win her + to reveal her real heart, the best treasure she has, uncle dear?” She + paused for a reply; none coming, she continued with decreasing energy: + </p> + <p> + “Where are the men of spirit? the men of action? the upright, downright + men, that Heaven sends to cure us of our disingenuousness? Where are the + heroes and the wits?” (an infinitesimal yawn); “where are the real men? + And where are the women to whom such men can do homage without degrading + themselves? where are the men who elevate a woman without making her + masculine, and the women who can brighten and polish, and yet not soften + the steel of manhood—tell me, tell me instantly,” said she, with + still greater languor and want of earnestness, and her eyes remained fixed + on the ceiling in deep abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “They are all in this house at this moment,” said Mr. Fountain, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Who, dear? I fear I was not attending to you. How rude!!” + </p> + <p> + “Horrid. I say the men and women you inquire for are all in this house of + mine;” and the old gentleman's eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle! Heaven forgive you, and—oh, fie!” + </p> + <p> + “They are, upon my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they must be in some part of it I have not visited. Are they in the + kitchen?” (with a little saucy sneer.) + </p> + <p> + “No, they are in the library.” + </p> + <p> + “In the lib—Ah! <i>le malin!”</i> + </p> + <p> + “They were never seen in the drawing-room, and never will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet surely they must have lived in nature before they were embalmed in + print,” said Lucy, interrogating the ceiling again. + </p> + <p> + “The nearest approach you will meet to these paragons is Reginald + Talboys,” said Fountain, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, I do love you;” and Lucy rose with Juno-like slowness and dignity, + and, leaning over the old boy, kissed him with sudden small fury. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked he, eagerly, connecting this majestic squirt of affection + with his last speech. + </p> + <p> + “Because you are such a nice, dear, <i>sarcastic</i> thing. Let us drink + tea in the library to-morrow, then that will be an approach to—” + </p> + <p> + With this illegitimate full stop the conversation ended, and Miss Fountain + took a candle and sauntered to bed. + </p> + <p> + In church next Sunday Lucy observed a young lady with a beaming face, who + eyed her by stealth in all the interstices of devotion. She asked her + uncle who was that pretty girl with a <i>nez retrousse.</i> + </p> + <p> + “A cocked nose? It must be my little friend, Eve Dodd. I didn't know she + was come back.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pretty face to be in such—such a—such an impossible + bonnet. It has come down from another epoch.” This not maliciously, but + with a sort of tender, womanly concern for beauty set off to the most + disadvantage. + </p> + <p> + “O, hang her bonnet! She is full of fun; she shall drink tea with us; she + is a great favorite of mine.” + </p> + <p> + They quickened their pace, and caught Eve Dodd just as she took a flying + leap over some water that lay in her path, and showed a charming ankle. In + those days female dress committed two errors that are disappearing: it + revealed the whole foot by day, and hid a section of the bosom at night. + </p> + <p> + After the usual greetings, Mr. Fountain asked Eve if she would come over + and drink tea with him and his niece. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dodd colored and cast a glance of undisguised admiration at Miss + Fountain, but she said: “Thank you, sir; I am much obliged, but I am + afraid I can't come. My brother would miss me.” + </p> + <p> + “What—the sailor? Is he at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; came home last night”; and she clapped her hands by way of + comment. “He has been with my mother all church-time; so now it is my + turn, and I don't know how to let him out of my sight yet awhile.” And she + gave a glance at Miss Fountain, as much as to say, “You understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Eve,” said Mr. Fountain good-humoredly, “we must not separate + brother and sister,” and he was turning to go. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, uncle,” said Lucy, looking not at Mr. Fountain, but at Eve—“Mr.—Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “David Dodd is my brother's name,” said Eve, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. David Dodd might be persuaded to give us the pleasure of his company + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, if I may bring dear David with me,” burst out the child of + nature, coloring again with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “It will add to the obligation,” said Lucy, finishing the sentence in + character. + </p> + <p> + “So that is settled,” said Mr. Fountain, somewhat dryly. + </p> + <p> + As they were walking home together, the courtier asked her uncle rather + coldly, “Who are these we have invited, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they? A pretty girl and a man she wouldn't come without.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is the gentleman? What is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A marine animal—first mate of a ship.” + </p> + <p> + “First mate? mate? Is that what in the novels is called boatswain's mate?” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! haw! haw! I say, Lucy, ask him when he comes if he is the bosen's + mate. How little Eve will blaze!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall ask him nothing of the kind. Do tell me! I know admirals—they + swear—and captains, and, I think, lieutenants, and, <i>above all,</i> + those little loves of midshipmen, strutting with their dirks and cocked + hats, like warlike bantams, but I never met 'mates.' Mates?” + </p> + <p> + “That is because you have only been introduced to the Royal Navy; but + there is another navy not so ornamental, but quite as useful, called the + East India Company's.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed to say I never heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say not. Well, in this navy there are only two kinds of superior + officers—the mates and the captain. There are five or six mates. + Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will soon be a + captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “Well.” + </p> + <p> + “Will this—mate—swear?” + </p> + <p> + “Clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old admiral + used to make me shudder.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, “he swore by the Supreme + Being, 'I bet sixpence.'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't think + he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior branch. He will + only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and squalls! Donner and + blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the innocent execrations of + the merchant service—he! he! ho!” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, can you be serious?” asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; “if so, be so + good as to tell me, is this gentleman—a—gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, coolly, “he is what I call a nondescript; like + an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a + stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he is + thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but these + skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go into the + merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they rise by—by—mere + maritime considerations.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, uncle,” began Lucy, with dignified severity, “permit me to say + that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed—less consideration for + me than—you—are in the habit—of doing, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have a headache, and can't come down.” + </p> + <p> + “So I certainly should; but, most unfortunately, I have an objection to + tell fibs on a Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right; we should rest from our usual employments one + day-ha! ha! and so go at it fresher to-morrow—haw! ho! Come, Lucy, + don't you be so exclusive. Eve Dodd is a merry girl. She comes and amuses + me when you are not here, and David, by all accounts, is a fine young + fellow, and as modest as a girl of fifteen; they will make me laugh, + especially Eve, and it would be hard at my age, I think, if I might not + ask whom I like—to tea.” + </p> + <p> + “So it would,” put in Lucy, hastily; she added, coaxing, “it shall have + its own way—it shall have what makes it laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Long before eight o'clock the Fountains had forgotten that they had + invited the Dodds. + </p> + <p> + Not so Eve. She was all in a flutter, and hesitated between two dresses, + and by some blessed inspiration decided for the plainest; but her + principal anxiety was, not about herself, but about David's deportment + before the Queen of Fashion, for such report proclaimed Miss Fountain. + “And those fine ladies are so satirical,” said Eve to herself; “but I will + lecture him going along.” + </p> + <p> + Dinner time, and, by consequence, tea time, came earlier in those days; + so, about eight o'clock, a tall, square-shouldered young fellow was + walking in the moonlight toward Font Abbey, Eve holding his hand, and + tripping by his side, and lecturing him on deportment very gravely while + dancing around him and pulling him all manner of ways, like your solid + tune with your gamboling accompaniment, a combination now in vogue. All of + a sudden, without with your leave or by your leave, the said David caught + this light fantastic object up in his arms, and carried it on one + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + On this she gave a little squeak; then, without a moment's interval, + continued her lecture as if nothing had happened. She looked down from her + perch like a hen from a ladder, and laid down the law to David with + seriousness and asperity. + </p> + <p> + “And just please to remember that they are people a long way above us—at + least above what we are now, since father fell into trouble; so don't you + make too free; and Miss Fountain is the finest of all the fine ladies in + the county.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am sorry we are going.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not; she is a beautiful girl.” + </p> + <p> + “That alters the case.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it does not. Don't chatter so, David, interrupting forever, but + listen and mind what I say, or I'll never take you anywhere again.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you are taking me now?” asked David, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Mr. David?” retorted Eve, from his shoulder. “Didn't I hear you + tell how you took the <i>Combermere</i> out of harbor, and how you brought + her into port; she didn't take you out and bring you home, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Had me there, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and, what is more, you are not skipper of the <i>Combermere</i> yet, + and never will be; but I am skipper of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ashore—not a doubt of it,” said David, with cool indifference. He + despised terrestrial distinction, courting only such as was marine. + </p> + <p> + “Then I command you to let me down this instant. Do you hear, crew!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” objected David; “if I put you overboard you can't command the + vessel, and ten to one if the craft does not founder for want of + seawomanship on the quarterdeck. However,” added he, in a relenting tone, + “wait till we get to that puddle shining on ahead, and then I'll disembark + you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, David, do let me down, that's a good soul. I am tired,” added she, + peevishly. + </p> + <p> + “Tired! of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of doing nothing, stupid; there, let me down, dear; won't you, darling! + then take that, love” (a box of the ear). + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've got it,” said David, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Keep it, then, till the next. No, he won't let me down. He has got both + my hands in one of his paws, and he will carry me every foot of the way + now—I know the obstinate pig.” + </p> + <p> + “We all have our little characters, Eve. Well, I have got your wrists, but + you have got your tongue, and that is the stronger weapon of the two, you + know; and you are on the poop, so give your orders, and the ship shall be + worked accordingly; likewise, I will enter all your remarks on + good-breeding into my log.” + </p> + <p> + Here, unluckily, David tapped his forehead to signify that the log in + question was a metaphorical one, the log of memory. Eve had him again + directly. She freed a claw. “So this is your log, is it?” cried she, + tapping it as hard as she could; “well, it does sound like wood of some + sort. Well, then, David, dear—you wretch, I mean—promise me + not to laugh loud.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will not; it is odds if I laugh at all. I wish we were to moor + alongside mother, instead of running into this strange port.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff! think of Miss Fountain's figure-head—nor tell too many + stories—and, above all, for heaven's sake, do keep the poor dear old + sea out of sight for once.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, that stands to reason.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they were at Font Abbey, and David deposited his fair burden + gently on the stone steps of the door. She opened it without ceremony, and + bustled into the dining-room, crying, “I have brought David, sir; and here + he is;” and she accompanied David's bow with a corresponding movement of + her hand, the knuckles downward. + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman awoke with a start, rubbed his eyes, shook hands with + the pair, and proposed to go up to Lucy in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Now, it happened unluckily that Miss Fountain had been to the library and + taken down one or two of those men and women who, according to her uncle, + exist only on paper, and certain it is she was in charming company when + she heard her visitors' steps and voices coming up the stairs. Had those + visitors seen the vexed expression of her face as she laid down the book + they would have instantly 'bout ship and home again; but that sour look + dissolved away as they came through the open door. + </p> + <p> + On coming in they saw a young lady seated on a sofa. + </p> + <p> + Apparently she did not see them enter. Her face <i>happened</i> to be + averted; but, ere they had taken three steps, she turned her face, saw + them, rose, and took two steps to meet them, all beaming with courtesy, + kindness and quiet satisfaction at their arrival. + </p> + <p> + She gave her hand to Eve. + </p> + <p> + “This is my brother, Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain instantly swept David a courtesy with such a grace and flow, + coupled with an engaging smile, that the sailor was fascinated, and gazed + instead of bowing. + </p> + <p> + Eve had her finger ready to poke him, when he recovered himself and bowed + low. + </p> + <p> + Eve played the accompaniment with her hand, knuckles down. + </p> + <p> + They sat down. Cups of tea, etc., were brought round to each by John. It + was bad tea, made out of the room. Catch a human being making good tea in + which it is not to share. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain was only half awake. + </p> + <p> + Eve was more or less awed by Lucy. David, tutored by Eve, held his tongue + altogether, or gave short answers. + </p> + <p> + “This must be what the novels call a sea-cub!” thought Miss Fountain. + </p> + <p> + The friends, Propriety and Restraint, presided over the innocent banquet, + and a dismal evening set in. + </p> + <p> + The first infraction of this polite tranquillity came, I blush to say, + from the descendant of John de Fonte. He exploded in a yawn of magnitude; + to cover this, the young lady began hastily to play her old game of + setting people astride their topic, and she selected David Dodd for the + experiment. She put on a warm curiosity about the sea, and ships, and the + countries men visit in them. Then occurred a droll phenomenon: David + flashed with animation, and began full and intelligent answers; then, + catching his sister's eye, came to unnatural full stops; and so warmly and + skillfully was he pressed that it cost him a gigantic effort to avoid + giving much amusement and instruction. The courtier saw this hesitation, + and the vivid flashes of intelligence, and would not lose her prey. She + drew him with all a woman's tact, and with a warmth so well feigned that + it set him on real fire. His instinct of politeness would not let him go + on all night giving short answers to inquiring beauty. He turned his eye, + which glowed now like a live coal, toward that enticing voice, and + presently, like a ship that has been hanging over the water ever so long + on the last rollers, with one gallant glide he took the sea, and towed + them all like little cockle-boats in his wake. From sea to sea, from port + to port, from tribe to tribe, from peril to peril, from feat to feat, + David whirled his wonderstruck hearers, and held them panting by the + quadruple magic of a tuneful voice, a changing eye, an ardent soul, and + truth at first-hand. + </p> + <p> + They sat thrilled and surprised, most of all Miss Fountain. To her, things + great and real had up to that moment been mere vague outlines seen through + a mist. Moreover, her habitual courtesy had hitherto drawn out pumps; but + now, when least expected, all in a moment, as a spark fires powder, it let + off a man. + </p> + <p> + A sailor is a live book of travels. Check your own vanity (if you possibly + can) and set him talking, you shall find him full of curious and + profitable matter. + </p> + <p> + The Fountains did not know this, and, even if they had, Dodd would have + taken them by surprise; for, besides being a sailor and a sea-enthusiast, + he was a fellow of great capacity and mental vigor. + </p> + <p> + He had not skimmed so many books as we have, but I fear he had sucked + more. However, his main strength did not lie there. He was not a paper + man, and this—oh! men of paper and oh! C. R. in particular—gave + him a tremendous advantage over you that Sunday evening. + </p> + <p> + The man whose knowledge all comes from reading accumulates a great number + of what?—facts? No, of the shadows of facts; shadows often so thin, + indistinct and featureless, that, when one of the facts themselves runs + against him in real life, he does not know his old friend, round about + which he has written a smart leader in a journal and a ponderous trifle in + the Polysyllabic Review. + </p> + <p> + But this sailor had stowed into his mental hold not fact-shadows, but the + glowing facts all alive, O. For thirteen years, man and boy, he had beat + about the globe, with real eyes, real ears, and real brains ever at work. + He had drunk living knowledge like a fish, and at fountainheads. + </p> + <p> + Yet, to utter intellectual wealth nobly, two things more are indispensable + the gift of language and a tunable voice, which last does not always come + by talking with tempests. + </p> + <p> + Well, David Dodd had sucked in a good deal of language from books and + tongues; not, indeed, the Norman-French and demi-Latin and jargon of the + schools, printed for English in impotent old trimestrials for the further + fogification of cliques, but he had laid by a fair store of the best—of + the monosyllables—the Saxon—the soul and vestal fire of the + great English tongue. + </p> + <p> + So he was never at a loss for words, simple, clear, strong, like blasts of + a horn. + </p> + <p> + His voice at this period was mellow and flexible. He was a mimic, too; the + brighter things he had seen, whether glories of nature or acts of man, had + turned to pictures in this man's mind. He flashed these pictures one after + another upon the trio; he peopled the soft and cushioned drawing-room with + twenty different tribes and varieties of man, barbarous, semi-barbarous, + and civilized; their curious customs, their songs and chants, and dances, + and struts, and actual postures. + </p> + <p> + The aspect of famous shores from the sea, glittering coasts, dark straits, + volcanic rocks defying sea and sky, and warm, delicious islands clothed + with green, that burst on the mariner's sight after rugged places and + scowling skies. + </p> + <p> + The adventures of one unlucky ship, the <i>Connemara,</i> on a single + whaling cruise on the coast of Peru. The first slight signs of a gale, + seen only by the careful skipper. The hasty preparations for it: all hands + to shorten sail; then the moaning of the wind high up in the sky. All + hands to reef sail now—the whirl and whoo of the gale as it came + down on them. The ship careening as it caught her, the speaking-trumpet—the + captain howling his orders through it amid the tumult. + </p> + <p> + The floating icebergs—the ship among them, picking her way in and + out a hundred deaths. Baffled by the unyielding wind off Cape Horn, + sailing six weeks on opposite tacks, and ending just where they began, + weather-bound in sight of the gloomy Horn. Then the terrors of a + land-locked bay, and a lee shore; the ship tacking, writhing, twisting, to + weather one jutting promontory; the sea and safety is on the other side of + it; land and destruction on this—the attempt, the hope, the failure; + then the stout-hearted, skillful captain would try one rare maneuver to + save the ship, cargo, and crew. He would club-haul her, “and if that + fails, my lads, there is nothing but up mainsail, up helm, run her slap + ashore, and lay her bones on the softest bit of rock we can pick.” + </p> + <p> + Long ere this the poor ship had become a live thing to all these four, and + they hung breathless on her fate. + </p> + <p> + Then he showed how a ship is club-hauled, and told how nobly the old <i>Connemara</i> + behaved (ships are apt to when well handled—double-barreled guns + ditto), and how the wind blew fiercer, and the rocks seemed to open their + mouths for her, and how she hung and vibrated between safety and + destruction, and at last how she writhed and slipped between Death's lips, + yet escaped his teeth, and tossed and tumbled in triumph on the great but + fair fighting sea; and how they got at last to the whaling ground, and + could not find a whale for many a weary day, and the novices said: “They + were all killed before we sailed;” and how, as uncommon ill luck is apt to + be balanced by uncommon good luck, one fine evening they fell in with a + whole shoal of whales at play, jumping clean into the air sixty feet long, + and coming down each with a splash like thunder; even the captain had + never seen such a game; and how the crew were for lowering the boats and + going at them, but the captain would not let them; a hundred playful + mountains of fish, the smallest weighing thirty ton, flopping down + happy-go-lucky, he did not like the looks of it. + </p> + <p> + “The boat will be at the mercy of chance among all those tails, and we are + not lucky enough to throw at random. No; since the beggars have taken to + dancing, for a change, let them dance all night; to-morrow they shall pay + the piper.” How, at peep of day, the man at the mast-head saw ten whales + about two leagues off on the weather-bow; how the ship tacked and stood + toward them; how she weathered on one of monstrous size, and how he and + the other youngsters were mad to lower the boat and go after it, and how + the captain said: “Ye lubbers, can't ye see that is a right whale, and not + worth a button? Look here away over the quarter at this whale. See how low + she spouts. She is a sperm whale, and worth seven hundred pounds if she + was only dead and towed alongside.” + </p> + <p> + “'That she shall be in about a minute,' cried one; and, indeed, we were + all in a flame; the boat was lowered, and didn't I worship the skipper + when he told me off to be one of her crew! + </p> + <p> + “I was that eager to be in at that whale's death, I didn't recollect there + might be smaller brutes in danger. + </p> + <p> + “Just before the oars fell into the water, the skipper looked down over + the bulwarks, and says he to one of us that had charge of the rope that is + fast to the boat at one end and to the harpoon at the other, 'Now, Jack + you are a new hand; mind all I told you last night, or your mother will + see me come ashore without you, and that will vex her; and, my lads, + remember, if there is a single lubberly hitch in that line, you will none + of you come up the ship's side again.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right, captain,' says Jack, and we pulled off singing, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'And spring to your oars, and, make your boat fly, + And when you come near her beware of her eye,' +</pre> + <p> + till the coxswain bade us hold our lubberly tongues, and not frighten the + whales; however, we soon found we wanted all our breath for our work, and + more too.” Then David painted the furious race after the whale, and how + the boat gradually gained, and how at last, as he was grinding his teeth + and pulling like mad, he heard a sound ahead like a hundred elephants + wallowing; and now he hoped to see the harpooner leave his oar, and rise + and fling his weapon; “but that instant, up flukes, a tower of fish was + seen a moment in the air, with a tail-fin at the top of it just about the + size of this room we are sitting in, ladies, and down the whale sounded; + then it was pull on again in her wake, according as she headed in + sounding; pull for the dear life; and after a while the oarsmen saw the + steerman's eyes, prying over the sea, turn like hot coals. The men caught + fire at this, and put their very backbones into each stroke, and the boat + skimmed and flew. Suddenly the steersman cried out fiercely, 'Stand up, + harpoon! Up rose the harpooner, <i>his</i> eye like a hot coal now. The + men saw nothing; they must pull fiercer than ever. The harpooner balanced + his iron, swayed his body lightly, and the harpoon hissed from him. A soft + thud—then a heaving of the water all round, a slap that sounded like + a church tower falling flat upon an acre of boards, and drenched, and + blinded, and half smothered us all in spray, and at the same moment away + whirled the boat, dancing and kicking in the whale's foaming, bubbling + wake, and we holding on like grim death by the thwarts, not to be spun out + into the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful!” cried Miss Fountain; “the waves bounded beneath you like a + steed that knows its rider. Pray continue.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Fountain. Now of course you can see that, if the line ran out + too easy, the whale would leave us astern altogether, and if it jammed or + ran too hard, she would tow us under water.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we see,” said Eve, ironically; “we understand everything by + instinct. Hang explanations when I'm excited; go ahead, do!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I won't explain how it is or why it is, but I'll just let you know + that two or three hundred fathom of line are passed round the boat from + stem to stern and back, and carried in and out between the oarsmen as they + sit. Well, it was all new to me then; but when the boat began jumping and + rocking, and the line began whizzing in and out, and screaming and smoking + like—there now, fancy a machine, a complicated one, made of + poisonous serpents, the steam on, and you sitting in the middle of the + works, with not an inch to spare, on the crankest, rockingest, jumpingest, + bumpingest, rollingest cradle that ever—” + </p> + <p> + “David!” said Eve, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” sang out David. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, do!” cried Lucy, slightly clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “If this little black ugly line was to catch you, it would spin you out of + the boat like a shuttlecock; if it held you, it would cut you in two, or + hang you to death, or drown you all at one time; and if it got jammed + against anything alive or dead that could stand the strain, it would take + the boat and crew down to the coral before you could wink twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said Lucy; “then I don't think I like it now; it is too + terrible. Pray go on, Mr.—Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Fountain, when a novice like me saw this black serpent + twisting and twirling, and smoking and hissing in and out among us, I + remembered the skipper's words, and I hailed Jack—it was he had laid + the line—he was in the bow. + </p> + <p> + “'Jack,' said I. + </p> + <p> + “'Hallo!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “'For God's sake, are there any hitches in the line?' said I. + </p> + <p> + “'Not as I <i>knows</i> on,' says he, much cooler than you sit there; and + that is a sailor all over. Well, she towed us about a mile, and then she + was blown, and we hauled up on the line, and came up with her, and drove + lances into her, till she spouted blood instead of salt water, and went + into her flurry, and rolled suddenly over our way dead, and was within a + foot of smashing us to atoms; but if she had it would only have been an + accident, for she was past malice, poor thing. Then we took possession, + planted our flagstaff in her spouting-hole, you know, and pulled back to + the ship, and she came down and anchored to the whale, and then, for the + first time, I saw the blubber stripped off a whale and hoisted by tackles + into the ship's hold, which is as curious as any part of the business, but + a dirtyish job, and not fit for the present company, and I dare say that + is enough about whales.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no! no!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, shall I tell you how one old whale knocked our boat clean + into the air, bottom uppermost, and how we swam round her and managed to + right her?” + </p> + <p> + “And went back to the ship and had your tea in bed and your clothes + dried?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Eve,” replied David, with the utmost simplicity; “we got in and to + work again, and killed the whale in less than half an hour, and planted + our flag on her, and away after another.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told them how they harpooned one right whale, and by good luck + were able to make her fast to the stern of the ship. “And, if you will + believe me, Miss Fountain, though there was just a breath on and off right + aft, and the foresail, jib and mizzen all set to catch it, she towed the + ship astern a good cable's length, and the last thing was she broke the + harpoon shaft just below the line, and away she swam right in the wind's + eye.” + </p> + <p> + “And there was an end of her and your nasty, cruel, harpoon, and—oh, + I'm so pleased!” + </p> + <p> + “No, there wasn't, Eve; we heard of both fish and harpoon again, but not + for a good many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Fountain. It is curious, like many things that fall out at sea, + but not so wonderful as her towing a ship of four hundred tons, with the + foresail, mizzen, and jib all aback. Well, sir, did you ever hear of + Nantucket? It is a port in the United States; and our harpooner happened + to be there full four years after we lost this whale. Some Yankee whalers + were treating him to the best of grog, and it was brag Briton, brag + Yankee, according to custom whenever these two met. Well, our man had no + more invention than a stone; so he was getting the worst of it till he + bethought him of this whale; so he up and told how he had struck a right + whale in the Pacific, and she had towed the ship with her sails aback, at + least her foresail, mizzen, and jib, only he didn't tell it short like me, + but as long as the Red Sea, with the day and the hour, the latitude + (within four or five degrees, I take it), and what we had done a week + before, and what we had not done, all by way of prologue, and for fear of + weathering the horn—tic, tic—the point of the story too soon. + When he had done there was a general howl of laughter, and they began to + cap lies with him, and so they bantered him most cruelly, by all accounts; + but at last a long silent chap, weather-beaten to the color of rosewood, + put in his word. + </p> + <p> + “'What was the ship's name, mate?' + </p> + <p> + “'The <i>Connemara</i>,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'And what is your name?' So he told him, 'Jem Green.' + </p> + <p> + “The other brings a great mutton fist down on the table, and makes all the + glasses dance. 'You stay at your moorings till I come back,' says he. 'I + have got something belonging to you, Jem Green,' and he sheered off. The + others lay to and passed the grog. Presently the long one comes back with + a harpoon steel in his hand; there was <i>Connemara</i> stamped on it, and + also 'James Green' graved with a knife. 'Is that yours?' 'Is my hand + mine?' says Jem; 'but wasn't there a broken shaft to it!” + </p> + <p> + “'There was,' says the Yankee harpooner; 'I cut it out.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well!' says Jem, 'that is the harpoon we were fast by to this very + whale. Where did you kill her?' + </p> + <p> + “'In the Greenland seas.' And he whips out his private log. 'Here you + are,' says he; 'March 25, 1820, latitude so and so, killed a right whale; + lost half the blubber, owing to the carcass sinking; cut an English + harpoon out of her.' + </p> + <p> + “'Avast there, mate!' cried Jem, and he whips, out <i>his</i> log; + 'overhaul that.' The other harpooner overhauled it. 'Mates, look, here,' + says he; 'I reckon we hain't fathomed the critters yet. The Britisher + struck her in the Pacific on the 5th of March, and we killed her off + Greenland on the 25th, five thousand miles of water by the lowest + reckoning.' By this time there were a dozen heads jammed together, like + bees swarming, over the two logs. 'She got a wound in the Pacific! + “Hallo!” says she; “this is no sea for a lady to live in;” so she up helm, + and right away across the pole into the Atlantic, and met her death.'” + </p> + <p> + “Your story has an interest you little suspect, young gentleman. If this + is true, the northwest passage is proved.” + </p> + <p> + “That has been proved a hundred times, sir, and in a hundred ways; the + only riddle is to find it. The man that tells you there is not a northwest + passage is no sailor, and the fish that can't find it is not a whale; for + there is not a young suckling no bigger than this room that does not know + that passage as well as a mid on his first voyage knows the way to the + mizzen-top through lubber's hole. How tired you must be of whales, + ladies?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill us one more, David. I love bloodshed—to hear of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, I don't think that can be Miss Fountain's taste, to look at + her.” + </p> + <p> + Then David told them how he had fallen in with a sperm whale, dead of + disease, floating as high as a frigate; how, with a very light breeze, the + skipper had crept down toward her; how, at half a mile distance the stench + of her was severe, but, as they neared her, awful; then so intolerable + that the skipper gave the crew leave to go below and close the lee ports. + So there were but two men left on the brig's deck, and a ship's company + that a hurricane would not have driven from their duty skulked before a + foul smell; but such a smell! a smell that struck a chill and a loathing + to the heart, and soul, and marrow-bone; a smell like the gases in a foul + mine; “it would have suffocated us in a few moments if we had been shut up + along with it.” Then he told how the skipper and he stuffed their noses + and ears with cotton steeped in aromatic vinegar, and their mouths with + pig-tail (by which, as it subsequently appeared, Lucy understood pork or + bacon in some form unknown to her narrow experience), and lighted short + pipes, and breached the brig upon the putrescent monster, and grappled to + it, and then the skipper jumped on it, a basket slung to his back, and a + rope fast under his shoulders in case of accident, and drove his spade in + behind the whale's side-fin.” + </p> + <p> + “His spade, Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “His whale-spade; it is as sharp as a razor;” and how the skipper dug a + hole in the whale as big as a well and four feet deep, and, after a long + search, gave a shout of triumph, and picked out some stuff that looked + like Gloucester cheese; and, when he had nearly filled his basket with + this stuff, he slacked the grappling-iron, and David hauled him on board, + and the carcass dropped astern, and the captain sang out for rum, and + drank a small tumbler neat, and would have fainted away, spite of his + precautions, but for the rum, and how a heavenly perfume was now on deck + fighting with that horrid odor; and how the crew smelled it, and crept + timidly up one by one, and how “the Glo'ster cheese was a great favorite + of yours, ladies. It was the king of perfumes—amber-gas; there is + some of it in all your richest scents; and the knowing skipper had made a + hundred guineas in the turn of the hand. So knowledge is wealth, you see, + and the sweet can be got out of the sour by such as study nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't preach, David, especially after just telling a fib. A hundred + guineas!” + </p> + <p> + “I am wrong,”' said David. + </p> + <p> + “Very wrong, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “There were eight pounds; and he sold it at a guinea the ounce to a + wholesale chemist, so that looks to me like 128 pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Then David left the whales, and encouraged by bright eyes and winning + smiles, and warm questions, sang higher strains. + </p> + <p> + Ships in dire distress at sea, yet saved by God's mercy, and the cool, + invincible courage of captain and crew—great ships run ashore—the + waves breaking them up—the rigging black with the despairing crew, + eying the watery death that tumbled and gaped and roared for them below; + and then little shore boats, manned by daring hearts, launched into the + surf, and going out to the great ship and her peril, risking more life for + the chance of saving life. And he did not present the bare skeletons of + daring acts; those grand morgues, the journals, do that. There lie the dry + bones of giant epics waiting Genius's hand to make them live. He gave them + not only the broad outward facts—the bones; but those smaller + touches that are the body and soul of a story, true or false, wanting + which the deeds of heroes sound an almanac; above all, he gave them + glimpses, not only of what men acted, but what they felt: what passed in + the hearts of men perishing at sea, in sight of land, houses, fires on the + hearth, and outstretched hands, and in the hearts of the heroes that ran + their boats into the surf and Death's maw to save them, and of the lookers + on, admiring, fearing, shivering, glowing, and of the women that sobbed + and prayed ashore with their backs to the sea, just able to risk lover, + husband, and son for the honor of manhood and the love of Christ, but not + able to look on at their own flesh and blood diving so deep, and lost so + long in cockle-shells between the hills of waves. + </p> + <p> + Such great acts, great feelings, great perils, and the gushes that crowned + all of holy triumph when the boats came in with the dripping and saved, + and man for a moment looked greater than the sea and the wind and death, + this seaman poured hot from his own manly heart into quick and womanly + bosoms, that heaved visibly, and glowed with admiring sympathy, and + fluttered with gentle fear. + </p> + <p> + And after a while, though not at first, David's yarns began to contain a + double interest to one of the party—Miss Fountain. Those who live to + please get to read character at sight, and David, though in these more + noble histories he scarcely named himself, was laying a full-length + picture of his own mind bare to these keen feminine eyes. As for old + Fountain, he was charmed, and saw nothing more than David showed him + outright. But the women sat flashing secret intelligence backward and + forward from eye to eye after the manner of their sex. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see?” said one lady's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other. “He was concerned in this feat, though he does + not say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you agree with me? Then we are right,” replied the first pair of + speakers. + </p> + <p> + “There again: look; this sailor, whom he describes as a fellow that + happened to be ashore at that foreign port with nothing better to do, and + who went out with the English smugglers to save the brig when the natives + durst not launch a boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Himself! not a doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + And so the blue and hazel lightning went dancing to and fro; ay, even when + the tale took a sorrowful turn, and dimmed these bright orbs of + intelligence, the lightning struggled through the dew, and David was read + and discussed by gleams, and glances, and flashes, without a word spoken. + And he, all unconscious that he sat between a pair of telegraphs, and + heating more and more under his great recollections and his hearers' + sympathy, inthralled them with his tuneful voice, his glowing face, his + lion eye, and his breathing, burning histories. Heart to dare and do, yet + heart to feel, and brain and tongue to tell a deed well, are rare allies, + yet here they met. + </p> + <p> + He mastered his hearers, and played on their breasts as David played the + harp, and perhaps Achilles; Bochsa never, nor any of his tribe. He made + the old man forget his genealogies, his small ambition, his gout, his + years, and be a boy again an hour or two in thought, and blood, and early + fire. He made the women's bosoms pant and swell, and seem to aspire to be + the nests and cradles of heroes, and their eyes flash and glisten, and + their cheeks flush and grow pale by turns; and the four little papered + walls that confined them seemed to fall without noise, and they were away + in thought out of a carpeted temple of wax, small talk, nonentity, and + nonentities, away to sea-breezes that they almost felt in their hair and + round their temples as their hearts rose and fell upon a broad swell of + passion, perils, waves, male men, realities. The spell was at its height, + when the sea-wizard's eye fell on the mantel-piece. Died in a moment his + noble ardor: “Why, it is eight bells,” said he, servilely; then, doggedly, + “time to turn in.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang that clock!” shouted Mr. Fountain; “I'll have it turned out of the + room.” + </p> + <p> + Said Lucy, with gentle enthusiasm, “It must be beautiful to be a sailor, + and to have seen the real world, and, above all, to be brave and strong + like Mr. ——,. must it not, uncle?” and she looked askant at + David's square shoulders and lion eye, and for the first time in her life + there crossed her an undefined instinct that this gentleman must be the + male of her species. + </p> + <p> + “As for his courage,” said Eve, “that we have only his own word for.” + </p> + <p> + David grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Not even that,” replied Lucy, “for I observed he spoke but little of + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not notice that,” said Eve, pertly; “but as for his strength, he + certainly is as strong as a great bear, and as rude. What do you think? my + lord carried me all the way from the top of the green lane to your house, + and I am no feather.” + </p> + <p> + “No, a skein of silk,” put in David. + </p> + <p> + “I asked the gentleman politely to put me down, and he wouldn't, so then I + boxed his ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how could you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bless you, he never hits me again; he is too great a coward. And the + great mule carried me all the more—carried me to your very door.” + </p> + <p> + “I almost think—I believe I could guess why he carried you, if you + will not be offended at my assuming the interpreter,” said Lucy, looking + at Eve and speaking at David. “You have thin shoes on, Miss Dodd; now I + remember the gravel ends at green lane, and the grass begins; so, from + what we know of Mr. Dodd, perhaps he carried you that you might not have + damp feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind—yes, it was, though, by his coloring up. La! + David, dear boy!” + </p> + <p> + “What is a man alongside for but to keep a girl out of mischief?” said + David, bruskly. + </p> + <p> + “Pray convert all your sex to that view,” laughed Lucy. + </p> + <p> + So now they were going. Then Mr. Fountain thanked David for the pleasant + evening he had given them; then David blushed and stammered. He had a + veneration for old age—another of his superstitions. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle's lead gave Lucy an opportunity she instantly seized. “Mr. Dodd, + you have taken us into a new world of knowledge; we never were so + interested in our lives.” At this pointblank praise David blushed, and was + anything but comfortable, and began to back out of it all with a curt bow. + Then, as the ladies can advance when a man of merit retreats, Lucy went + the length of putting out her hand with a sweet, grateful smile; so he + took it, and, in the ardor of encouraging so much spirit and modesty, she + unconsciously pressed it. On this delicious pressure, light as it was, he + raised his full brown eye, and gave her such a straightforward look of + manly admiration and pleasure that she blushed faintly and drew back a + little in her turn. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Davy, dear, how do you like the Fountains?” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, she is a clipper!” + </p> + <p> + “And the old gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very friendly. What do <i>you</i> think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “She is an out-and-out woman of the world, and very agreeable, as + insincere people generally are. I like her because she was so polite to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is your reading of her, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the walk passed almost in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, I am not sleepy to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is? that young rascal has set me on fire with his yarns. Who would + have thought that awkward cub had so much in him?” + </p> + <p> + “Awkward, but not a cub; say rather a black swan; and you know, uncle, a + swan is an awkward thing on land, but when it takes the water it is + glorious, and that man was glorious; but—Da—vid Do—dd.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether he was glorious, but I know he amused me, and I'll + have him to tea three times a week while he lasts.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, do you believe such an unfortunate combination of sounds is his + real name?” asked Lucy, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Why, who would be mad enough to feign such a name?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true; but now tell me—if he should ever, think of marrying + with such a name?” + </p> + <p> + “Then there will be two David Dodd's in the world, Mr. and Mrs.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so; he will be merciful, and take her name instead of she + his; he is so good-natured.” + </p> + <p> + “Ordinary sponsors would have been content with Samuel or Nathan; but no, + this one's must, call in 'apt alliteration's artful aid,' and have the two + 'd's.'” + </p> + <p> + Lucy assented with a smile, and so, being no longer under the spell of the + enthusiast and the male, the genealogist and the fine lady took the rise + out of what Miss Fountain was pleased to call his impossible title, + </p> + <p> + Da—vid Dodd. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr. + Talboys. Her uncle used merely to say to her: “Talboys dines with us + to-day.” She made no remark; she respected her uncle's preference; besides—the + pony! Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul. He had to blow the + coals of conversation right and left. It is very good of me not to compare + him to the Tropic between two frigid zones. At first he took his nap as + usual; for he said to himself: “Now I have started them they can go on.” + Besides, he had seen pictures in the shop windows of an old fellow dozing + and then the young ones “popping.” + </p> + <p> + Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes shut + and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables dropping + out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and Talboys + reading the coals. Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong coffee soon + after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired his temper the + rest of the evening. + </p> + <p> + He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David Dodd + and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this joyous pair + amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny himself a + pleasure without a powerful motive. + </p> + <p> + “What, again so soon?” hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite + them. “I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the + forms.” + </p> + <p> + “If you say another word, I'll make them come every night. Am I to have no + amusement?” he added, in a deep tone of reproach; “they make me laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I forgot; forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Little hypocrite; don't they you too, pray? Why, you are as dull as + ditchwater the other evenings.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, dear, dull with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Crocodile, dull with a pattern uncle and his friend—and + your admirer.” He watched her to see how she would take this last word. + Catch her taking it at all. “I am never dull with you, dear uncle,” said + she; “but a third person, however estimable, is a certain restraint, and + when that person is not very lively—” Here the explanation came + quietly to an untimely end, like those old tunes that finish in the middle + or thereabouts. + </p> + <p> + “But that is the very thing; what do I ask them for to-night but to thaw + Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + “To thaw Talboys? he! he!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy seemed so tickled by this expression that the old gentleman was sorry + he had used it. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, they will make him laugh.” Then, to turn it off, he said hastily, + “And don't forget the fiddle, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, dear, please let me forget that, and then perhaps they may + forget to bring it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you pressed him to bring it; I heard you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” said Lucy, ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I thought you were mad after a fiddle, you seconded Eve so + warmly; so that was only your extravagant politeness after all. I am glad + you are caught. I like a fiddle, so there is no harm done.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, reader, you have hit it. Eve, who openly quizzed her brother, but + secretly adored him, and loved to display all his accomplishments, had + egged on Mr. Fountain to ask David to bring his violin next time. Lucy had + shivered internally. “Now, of all the screeching, whining things that I + dislike, a violin!”—and thus thinking, gushed out, “Oh, pray do, Mr. + Dodd,” with a gentle warmth that settled the matter and imposed on all + around. + </p> + <p> + This evening, then, the Dodds came to tea. + </p> + <p> + They found Lucy alone in the drawing-room, and Eve engaged her directly in + sprightly conversation, into which they soon drew David, and, + interchanging a secret signal, plied him with a few artful questions, and—launched + him. But the one sketch I gave of his manner and matter must serve again + and again. Were I to retail to the reader all the droll, the spirited, the + exciting things he told his hearers, there would be no room for my own + little story; and we are all so egotistical! Suffice it to say, the living + book of travels was inexhaustible; his observation and memory were really + marvelous, and his enthusiasm, coupled with his accuracy of detail, had + still the power to inthrall his hearers. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, “now I see why Eastern kings have a story-teller + always about them—a live story-teller. Would not you have one, Miss + Dodd, if you were Queen of Persia?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? I'd have a couple—one to make me laugh; one miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “One would be enough if his resources were equal to your brother's. Pray + go on, Mr. Dodd. It was madness to interrupt you with small talk.” + </p> + <p> + David hung his head for a moment, then lifted it with a smile, and sailed + in the spirit into the China seas, and there told them how the Chinamen + used to slip on board his ship and steal with supernatural dexterity, and + the sailors catch them by the tails, which they observing, came ever with + their tails soaped like pigs at a village feast; and how some foolhardy + sailors would venture into the town at the risk of their lives; and how + one day they had to run for it, and when they got to the shore their boat + was stolen, and they had to 'bout ship and fight it out, and one fellow + who knew the natives had loaded the sailors' guns with currant jelly. Make + ready—present—fire! In a moment the troops of the Celestial + Empire smarted, and were spattered with seeming gore, and fled yelling. + </p> + <p> + Then he told how a poor comrade of his was nabbed and clapped in prison, + and his hands and feet were to be cut off at sunrise; himself at noon. It + was midnight, and strict orders from the quarterdeck had been issued that + no man should leave the ship: what was to be done? It was a moonlight + night. They met, silent as death, between decks—daren't speak above + a whisper, for fear the officers should hear them. His messmate was crying + like a child. One proposed one thing, one another; but it was all + nonsense, and we knew it was, and at sunrise poor Tom must die. + </p> + <p> + At last up jumps one fellow, and cries, “Messmates, I've got it; Tom isn't + dead yet.” + </p> + <p> + This was the moment Mr. Fountain and Mr. Talboys chose for coming into the + drawing-room, of course. Mr. Fountain, with a shade of hesitation and + awkwardness, introduced the Dodds to Mr. Talboys: he bowed a little + stiffly, and there was a pause. Eve could not repress a little movement of + nervous impatience. “David is telling us one of his nonsensical stories, + sir,” said she to Mr. Fountain, “and it is so interesting; go on, David.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said David, modestly, “it isn't everybody that likes these + sea-yarns as you do, Eve. No, I'll belay, and let my betters get a word in + now.” + </p> + <p> + “You are more merciful than most story-tellers, sir,” said Talboys. + </p> + <p> + Eve tossed her head and looked at Lucy, who with a word could have the + story go on again. That young lady's face expressed general complacency, + politeness, and <i>tout m'est egal.</i> Eve could have beat her for not + taking David's part. “Doubleface!” thought she. She then devoted herself + with the sly determination of her sex to trotting David out and making him + the principal figure in spite of the new-corner. + </p> + <p> + But, as fast as she heated him, Talboys cooled him. We are all great at + something or other, small or great. Talboys was a first-rate freezer. He + was one of those men who cannot shine, but can eclipse. They darken all + but a vain man by casting a dark shadow of trite sentences on each + luminary. The vain man insults them directly, and so gets rid of them. + </p> + <p> + Talboys kept coming across honest enthusiastic David with little remarks, + each skillfully discordant with the rising sentiment. Was he droll, + Talboys did a bit of polite gravity on him; was he warm in praise of some + gallant action, chill irony trickled on him from T. + </p> + <p> + His flashes of romance were extinguished by neat little dicta, embodying + sordid and false, but current views of life. The gauze wings of eloquence, + unsteeled by vanity, will not bear this repeated dabbing with prose glue, + so David collapsed and Talboys conquered—“spell” benumbed “charm.” + The sea-wizard yielded to the petrifier, and “could no more,” as the poets + say. Talboys smiled superior. But, as his art was a purely destructive + one, it ended with its victim; not having an idea of his own in his skull, + the commentator, in silencing his text, silenced himself and brought the + society to a standstill. Eve sat with flashing eyes; Lucy's twinkled with + sly fun: this made Eve angrier. She tried another tack. + </p> + <p> + “You asked David to bring his fiddle,” said she, sharply, “but I suppose + now—” + </p> + <p> + “Has he brought it?” asked Mr. Fountain, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has; I made him” (with a glance of defiance at Talboys). + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain rang the bell directly and sent for the fiddle. It came. + David took it and tuned it, and made it discourse. Lucy leaned a little + back in her chair, wore her “<i>tout m'est egal</i> face,” and Eve watched + her like a cat. First her eyes opened with a mild astonishment, then her + lips parted in a smile; after a while a faint color came and went, and her + eyes deepened and deepened in color, and glistened with the dewy light of + sensibility. + </p> + <p> + A fiddle wrought this, or rather genius, in whose hand a jews-harp is the + lyre of Orpheus, a fiddle the harp of David, a chisel a hewer of heroic + forms, a brush or a pen the scepter of souls, and, alas! a nail a + picklock. + </p> + <p> + Inside every fiddle is a soul, but a coy one. The nine hundred and + ninety-nine never win it. They play rapid tunes, but the soul of beautiful + gayety is not there; slow tunes, very slow ones, wherein the spirit of + whining is mighty, but the sweet soul of pathos is absent; doleful, not + nice and tearful. Then comes the Heaven-born fiddler,* who can make + himself cry with his own fiddle. David had a touch of this witchcraft. + Though a sound musician and reasonably master of his instrument, he could + not fly in a second up and down it, tickling the fingerboard and + scratching the strings without an atom of tone, as the mechanical monkeys + do that boobies call fine players. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This is a definition of the Heaven-born fiddler by Pate + Bailey, a gypsy tinker and celestial violinist. Being asked + for a test of proficiency on that instrument, he replied + that no man is a fiddler “till he can gar himsel greet wi a + feddle.” + + “Great Orpheus played so well he moved Old Nick, + But these move nothing but their fiddlestick.” * + + * See how unjust satire is! Don't they move their finger- + nails? +</pre> + <p> + But he could make you laugh and crow with his fiddle, and could make you + jump up, aetat. 60, and snap your fingers at old age and propriety, and + propose a jig to two bishops and one master of the rolls, and, they + declining, pity them without a shade of anger, and substitute three + chairs; then sit unabashed and smiling at the past; and the next minute he + could make you cry, or near it. In a word he could evoke the soul of that + wonderful wooden shell, and bid it discourse with the souls and hearts of + his hearers. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lucy Fountain's face would have interested a subtle student of + her sex. + </p> + <p> + Her sensibility to music was great, and the feeling strains stole into her + nature, and stirred the treasures of the deep to the surface. Eve, a keen + if not a profound observer, was struck by the rising beauty of this + countenance, over which so many moods chased one another. She said to + herself: “Well, David is right, after all; she is a lovely girl. Her + features are nothing out of the way. Her nose is neither one thing nor the + other, but her expression is beautiful. None of your wooden faces for me. + And, dear heart, how her neck rises! La! how her color comes and goes! + Well, I do love the fiddle myself dearly; and now, if her eyes are not + brimming; I could kiss her! La! David,” cried she, bursting the bounds of + silence, “that is enough of the tune the old cow died of; take and play + something to keep our hearts up—do.” + </p> + <p> + Eve's good-humor and mirth were restored by David's success, and now + nothing would serve her turn but a duet, pianoforte and violin. Miss + Fountain objected, “Why spoil the violin?” David objected too, “I had + hoped to hear the piano-forte, and how can I with a fiddle sounding under + my chin?” Eve overruled both peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Dodd, what shall we select? But it does not matter; I feel + sure Mr. Dodd can play <i>a livre ouvert.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Not he,” said Eve, hypocritically, being secretly convinced he could. + “Can you play 'a leevre ouvert,' David?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it by, Miss Fountain?” Lucy never moved a muscle. + </p> + <p> + After a rummage a duet was found that looked promising, and the + performance began. In the middle David stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! David's broke down,” shrieked Eve, concealing her uneasiness + under fictitious gayety. “I thought he would.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” explained David to Miss Fountain, “but you are out of + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I?” said Lucy, composedly. + </p> + <p> + “And have been, more or less, all through.” + </p> + <p> + “David, you forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; set me right, by all means, Mr. Dodd. I am not a hardened + offender.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not just possible the violin may be the instrument that is out of + time?” suggested Talboys, insidiously. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said David, simply, “I was right enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us try again, Mr. Dodd. Play me a few bars first in exact time. Thank + you. Now.” + </p> + <p> + “All went merry as a marriage bell” for a page and a half; then David, + fiddling away, cried out, “You are getting too fast; 'ri tum tiddy, iddy + ri tum ti;” then, by stamping and accenting very strongly, he kept the + piano from overflowing its bounds. The piece ended. Eve rubbed her hands. + “Now you'll catch it, Mr. David!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I gave you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“En revanche,</i> you gave us a great deal of pleasure,” put in Mr. + Talboys. + </p> + <p> + Lucy turned her head and smiled graciously. “But piano-forte players play + so much by themselves, they really forget the awful importance of time.” + </p> + <p> + “I profit by your confession that they do sometimes play by themselves,” + said Mr. Talboys. “Be merciful, and let us hear you by yourself.”' Eve + turned as red as fire. + </p> + <p> + David backed the request sincerely. + </p> + <p> + Lucy played a piece composed expressly for the piano by a pianist of the + day. David sat on her left hand and watched intently how she did it. + </p> + <p> + When it was over, Talboys did a bit of rapture; Eve another. + </p> + <p> + “That is playing.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not have believed it if I had not seen it done,” said David. + “Eve, you should have seen her beautiful fingers thread in and out among + the keys; it was like white fire dancing; and as for her hand, it is not + troubled with joints like ours, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “The music, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, severely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the music! Well, I could hardly take on me to say. You see I heard it + by the eye, and that was all in its favor; but I should say the music + wasn't worth a button.” + </p> + <p> + “David!” + </p> + <p> + “How you run off with one's words, Eve! I mean, played by anybody but her. + Why, what was it, when you come to think? Up and down the gamut, and then + down and up. No more sense in it than <i>a b c</i>—a scramble to the + main-masthead for nothing, and back to no good. I'd as lief see you play + on the table, Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Moscheles!” said Lucy, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Revenge is in your power,” said Talboys; “play no more; punish us all for + this one heretic.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy reflected a moment; she then took from the canterbury a thick old + book. “This was my mother's. Her taste was pure in music, as in + everything. I shall be sorry if you do not <i>all</i> like this,” added + she, softly. + </p> + <p> + It was an old mass; full, magnificent chords in long succession, strung + together on a clear but delicate melody. She played it to perfection: her + lovely hands seemed to grasp the chords. No fumbling in the base; no + gelatinizing in the treble. Her touch, firm and masterly, yet feminine, + evoked the soul of her instrument, as David had of his, and she thought of + her mother as she played. These were those golden strains from which all + mortal dross seems purged. Hearing them so played, you could not realize + that he who writ them had ever eaten, drunk, smoked, snuffed, and hated + the composer next door. She who played them felt their majesty and purity. + She lifted her beaming eye to heaven as she played, and the color receded + from her cheek; and when her enchantment ended she was silent, and all + were silent, and their ears ached for the departed charm. + </p> + <p> + Then she looked round a mute inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Talboys applauded loudly. + </p> + <p> + But the tear stood in David's eye, and he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, David,” said Eve, reproachfully, “I'm sure if that does not please + you—” + </p> + <p> + “Please me,” cried David, a little fretfully; “more shame for me if it + does not. Please is not the word. It is angel music, I call it—ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you need not break your heart for that: he is going to cry—ha! + ha!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no such thing,” cried David, indignantly, and blew his nose—promptly, + with a vague air of explanation and defiance. + </p> + <p> + But why the male of my species blows its nose to hide its sensibility a + deeper than I must decide. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys for some time had not been at his ease. He had been playing + too, and an instrument he hated—second fiddle. He rose and joined + Mr. Fountain, who was sitting half awake on a distant sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” thought Eve, exulting, “we have driven him away.” + </p> + <p> + Judge her mortification when Lucy, after shutting the piano, joined her + uncle and Mr. Talboys. Eve whispered David: “Gone to smooth him down: the + high and mighty gentleman wasn't made enough of.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one in their turn,” said David, calmly; “that is manners. Look! it + is the old gentleman she is being kind to. She could not be unkind to + anyone, however.” + </p> + <p> + Eve put her lips to David's ear: “She will be unkind to you if you are + ever mad enough to let her see what I see,” said she, in a cutting + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “What do you see? More than there is to see, I'll wager,” said David, + looking down. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is the way with young men, the moment they take a fancy; their + sister is nothing to them, their best friend loses their confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ye say that, Eve—now don't say that!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, David, never mind me. I am cross. And if you saw a sore heart in + store for anyone you had a regard for, wouldn't you be cross? Young men + are so stupid, they can't read a girl no more than Hebrew. If she is civil + and affable to them, oh, they are the man directly, when, instead of that, + if it was so, she would more likely be shy and half afraid to come near + them. David, you are in a fool's paradise. In company, and even in + flirtation, all sorts meet and part again; but it isn't so with marriage. + There 'it is beasts of a kind that in one are joined, and birds of a + feather that came together.' Like to like, David. She is a fine lady and + she will marry a fine gentleman, and nothing else, with a large income. If + she knew what has been in your head this month past, she would open her + eyes and ask if the man was mad.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a right to look down on me, I know,” murmured David, humbly; + “but” (his eye glowing with sudden rapture) “she doesn't—she + doesn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Look down on you! You are better company than she is, or anyone she can + get in this-out-of-the-way place; it is her interest to be civil to you. I + am too hard upon her. She is a lady—a perfect lady—and that is + why she is above giving herself airs. No, David, she is not the one to + treat us with disrespect, if we don't forget ourselves. But if ever you + let her see that you are in love with her, you will get an affront that + will make your cheek burn and my heart smart—so I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I never told you I was in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Never told me? Never told me? Who asked you to tell me? I have eyes, if + you have none.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” said David imploringly, “I don't hear of any lover that she has. Do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Eve carelessly. “But who knows? She passes half the year a + hundred miles from this, and there are young men everywhere. If she was a + milkmaid, they'd turn to look at her with such a face and figure as that, + much more a young lady with every grace and every charm. She has more than + one after her that we never see, take my word.” + </p> + <p> + Eve had no sooner said this than she regretted it, for David's face + quivered, and he sighed like one trying to recover his breath after a + terrible blow. + </p> + <p> + What made this and the succeeding conversation the more trying and + peculiar was, that the presence of other persons in the room, though at a + considerable distance, compelled both brother and sister, though anything + but calm, to speak <i>sotto voce.</i> But in the history of mankind more + strange and incongruous matter has been dealt with in an undertone, and + with artificial and forced calmness. + </p> + <p> + “My poor David!” said Eve sorrowfully; “you who used to be so proud, so + high-spirited, be a man! Don't throw away such a treasure as your + affection. For my sake, dear David, your sister's sake, who does love you + so very, very dearly!” + </p> + <p> + “And I love you, Eve. Thank you. It was hard lines. Ah! But it is + wholesome, no doubt, like most bitters. Yes. Thank you, Eve. I do admire + her v-very much,” and his voice faltered a little. “But I am a man for all + that, and I'll stand to my own words. I'll never be any woman's slave.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right, David.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not give hot for cold, nor my heart for a smile or two. I can't + help admiring her, and I do hope she will be—happy—ah!—whoever + she fancies. But, if I am never to command her, I won't carry a willow at + my mast-head, and drift away from reason and manhood, and my duty to you, + and mother, and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! David, if you could see how noble you look now. Is it a promise, + David? for I know you will keep your word if once you pass it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is my hand on it, Eve.” + </p> + <p> + The brother and sister grasped hands, and when David was about to withdraw + his, Eve's soft but vigorous little hand closed tighter and kept it + firmer, and so they sat in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Eve.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't you be cross.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear. Eve is sad, not cross; what is it? + </p> + <p> + “Well, Eve—dear Eve.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid to speak your mind to me—why should you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Eve, now, if she had not some little kindness for me, would + she be so pleased with these thundering yarns I keep spinning her, as old + as Adam, and as stale as bilge-water? You that are so keen, how comes it + you don't notice her eyes at these times? I feel them shine on me like a + couple of suns. They would make a statue pay the yarn out. Who ever + fancied my chat as she does?” + </p> + <p> + “David,” said Eve, quietly, “I have thought of all this; but I am + convinced now there is nothing in it. You see, David, mother and I are + used to your yarns, and so we take them as a matter of course; but the + real fact is, they are very interesting and very enticing, and you tell + them like a book. You came all fresh to this lady, and, as she is very + quick, she had the wit to see the merit of your descriptions directly. I + can see it myself <i>now.</i> All young women like to be amused, David, + and, above all, <i>excited;</i> and your stories are very exciting; that + is the charm; that is what makes her eyes fire; but if that puppy there, + or that book-shelf yonder, could tell her your stories, she would look at + either the puppy or the book-stand with just the same eyes she looks on + you with, my poor David.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say so, Eve. Let me think there is some little feeling for me + inside those sweet eyes, that look so kind on me—” + </p> + <p> + “And on me, and on everybody. It is her manner. I tell you she is so to + all the world. She isn't the first I've met. Trust me to read a woman, + David; what can you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing; but they tell me you can fathom one another better than + any man ever could,” said David, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “'David, just now you were telling as interesting a story as ever was. You + had just got to the thrilling part.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, had I? What was I saying?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you to the very word; I am not your sweetheart any more than + she is; but one of the sailors was in danger of his life, and so on. You + never told me the story before; I was not worth it. Well, just then does + not that affected puppy choose his time to come meandering in?” + </p> + <p> + “Puppy! I call him a fine gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there isn't so much odds. In he comes; your story is broken off + directly. Does she care? No, she has got one of her own set; he is not a + very bright one; he is next door to a fool. No matter; before he came, to + judge by her crocodile eyes, she was hot after your story; the moment he + did come, she didn't care a pin for you <i>nor</i> your story. I gave her + more than one opening to bring it on again; not she. I tell you, you are + nothing but a <i>pass</i> time;* you suit her turn so long as none of her + own set are to be had. If she would leave you for such a jackanapes as + that, what would she do for a real gentleman? such a man as she is a + woman, for instance, and as if there weren't plenty such in her own set—oh, + you goose!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * I write this word as the lady thought proper to pronounce + it. +</pre> + <p> + David interrupted her. “I have been a vain fool, and it is lucky no one + has seen it but you,” and he hid his face in his hands a moment; then, + suddenly remembering where he was, and that this was an attitude to + attract attention, he tried to laugh—a piteous effort; then he + ground his teeth and said: “Let us go home. All I want now is to get out + of the house. It would have been better for me if I had never set foot in + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! be calm, David, for Heaven's sake. I am only waiting to catch her + eye, and then we'll bid them good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll wait”; and David fixed his eyes sadly and doggedly on the + ground. “I won't look at her if I can help it,” said he, resolutely, but + very sadly, and turned his head away. + </p> + <p> + “Now, David,” whispered Eve. + </p> + <p> + David rose mechanically and moved with his sister toward the other group. + Miss Fountain turned at their approach. Somewhat to David's surprise, Eve + retreated as quickly as she had advanced. + </p> + <p> + “We are to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “She made me a signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I saw,” said David, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “What! didn't you see her give me a look?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. But what has that to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “That look was as much as to say, Please stay a little longer; I have + something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is about a bonnet, David. I asked her to put me in the way of + getting one made like hers. She does wear heavenly bonnets.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. I did well to listen to you, Eve; you see I can't even read her face, + much less her heart. I saw her look up, but that was all. How is a poor + fellow to make out such craft as these, that can signal one another a + whole page with a flash of the eye? Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “There, David, he is going. Was I right?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was, in fact, taking leave of Miss Fountain. The old gentleman + convoyed his friend. As the door closed on them Miss Fountain's face + seemed to catch fire. Her sweet complacency gave way to a half-joyous, + half-irritated small energy. She came gliding swiftly, though not + hurriedly, up to Eve. “Thank you for seeing.” Then she settled softly and + gradually on an ottoman, saying, “Now, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + David looked puzzled. “What is it?” and he turned to his interpreter, Eve. + </p> + <p> + But it was Lucy who replied: “'His messmate was crying like a child. At + sunrise poor Tom must die. Then up rose one fellow' (we have not any idea + who one fellow means in these narratives—have we, Miss Dodd?) 'and + cried, “I have it, messmates. Tom isn't dead yet.”' Now, Mr. Dodd, between + that sentence and the one that is to follow all that has happened in this + room was a hideous dream. On that understanding we have put up with it. It + is now happily dispersed, and we—go ahead again.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, Eve, she thinks she would like some more of that China yarn.” + </p> + <p> + “Her sentiments are not so tame. She longs for it, thirsts for it, and + must and will have it—if you will be so very obliging, Mr. Dodd.” + The contrast between all this singular vivacity of Miss Fountain and the + sudden return to her native character and manner in the last sentence + struck the sister as very droll—seemed to the brother so winning, + that, scarcely master of himself, he burst out: “You shan't ask me twice + for that, or anything I can give you;” and it was with burning cheeks and + happy eyes he resumed his tale of bold adventure and skill on one side, of + numbers, danger and difficulty on the other. He told it now like one + inspired, and both the young ladies hung panting and glowing on his words. + </p> + <p> + David and Eve went home together. + </p> + <p> + David was in a triumphant state, but waited for Eve to congratulate him. + Eve was silent. + </p> + <p> + At last David could refrain no longer. “Why, you say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Common sense is too good to be wasted; don't go so fast.” + </p> + <p> + “No. There—I heave to for convoy to close up. Would it be wasted on + me? ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “To-night. There you go pelting on again.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, I can't help it. I feel all canvas, with a cargo of angels' feathers + and sunshine for ballast.” + </p> + <p> + “Moonshine.” + </p> + <p> + “Sun, moon, and stars, and all that is bright by night or day. I'll tell + you what to do; you keep your head free, and come on under easy sail; I'll + stand across your bows with every rag set and drawing, so then I shall be + always within hail.” + </p> + <p> + This sober-minded maneuver was actually carried out. The little corvette + sailed steadily down the middle of the lane; the great merchantman went + pitching and rolling across her bows; thus they kept together, though + their rates of sailing were so different. + </p> + <p> + Merry Eve never laughed once, but she smiled, and then sighed. + </p> + <p> + David did not heed her. All of a moment his heart vented itself in a + sea-ditty so loud, and clear, and mellow, that windows opened, and out + came nightcapped heads to hear him carol the lusty stave, making night + jolly. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the weather being balmy, Mr. Fountain had walked slowly with Mr. + Talboys in another direction. Mr. Talboys inquired, “Who were these + people?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only two humble neighbors,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “I never met them anywhere. They are received in the neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in society, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you. Have not I just met them here?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way to put it,” said the old gentleman, a little + confused. “You did not meet them; you did me and my niece the honor to + dine with us, and the Dodds dropped in to tea—quite another matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not? I see you have been so long out of England you have forgotten + these little distinctions; society would go to the deuce without them. We + ask our friends, and persons of our own class, to dinner, but we ask who + we like to tea in this county. Don't you like her? She is the prettiest + girl in the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty and pert.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! that is true. She is saucy enough, and amusing in proportion.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the man I alluded to.” + </p> + <p> + “What, David? ay, a very worthy lad. He is a downright modest, + well-informed young man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt his general merits, but let me ask you a serious question: + his evident admiration of Miss Fountain?” + </p> + <p> + “His ad-mi-ration of Miss Fountain?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it agreeable to you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a matter of consummate indifference to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But not, I think, to her. She showed a submission to the cub's + impertinence, and a desire to please instead of putting him down, that + made me suspect. Do you often ask Mr. Dodd—what a name!—to + tea?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, I see that, with all your accomplishments, you have + something to learn. You want insight into female character. Now I, who + must go to school to you on most points, can be of use to you here.” Then, + seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently there was a + department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: “At all events, I + can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much longer than you + have.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his niece + took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle. + </p> + <p> + “Part politeness, part sham. Why, she wanted not to ask them this evening, + the fiddle especially. I'll give you the clue to Lucy; she is a female + Chesterfield, and the droll thing is she is polite at heart as well. Takes + it from her mother: she was something between an angel and a duchess.” + </p> + <p> + “Politeness does not account for the sort of partiality she showed for + these Dodds while I was in the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Pure imagination, my dear friend. I was there; and had so monstrous a + phenomenon occurred I must have seen it. If you think she could really + prefer their society to yours, you are as unjust to her as yourself. She + may have concealed her real preference out of <i>finesse,</i> or perhaps + she has observed that our inferiors are touchy, and ready to fancy we + slight them for those of our own rank.” + </p> + <p> + Talboys shrugged his shoulders; he was but half convinced. “Her enthusiasm + when the cub scraped the fiddle went beyond mere politeness.” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond other people's, you mean. Nothing on earth ever went beyond hers—ha! + ha! ha! To-morrow night, if you like, we will have my gardener, Jack + Absolom, in to tea.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank you. I have no wish to go beyond Mr. and Miss Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only for an experiment. The first minute Jack will be wretched, and + want to sink through the floor; but in five minutes you will fancy Lucy + will have made Jack Absolom at home in my drawing-room. He will be laying + down the law about Jonquilles, and she all sweetness, curiosity, and + enthusiasm outside—<i>ennui</i> in.” + </p> + <p> + “Can her eyes glisten out of politeness?” inquired Talboys, with a subdued + sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “They could shed tears, perhaps, for the same motive?” said Talboys, with + crushing irony. + </p> + <p> + “Well! Hum! I'd back them at four to seven.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was silent, and his manner showed that he was a little + mortified at a subject turning to joke which he had commenced seriously. + He must stop this annoyance. He said severely, “It is time to come to an + understanding with you.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, and, above all, at their solemn tone, the senior pricked + his ears and prepared his social diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + “I have visited very frequently at your house, Mr. Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Never without being welcome, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You have, I think, divined one reason of my very frequent visits here.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not been vain enough to attribute them entirely to my own + attractions.” + </p> + <p> + “You approve the homage I render to that other attraction?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfeignedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I so fortunate as to have her suffrage, too?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no better means of knowing than you have.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I was in hopes you might have sounded her inclinations.” + </p> + <p> + “I have scrupulously avoided it,” replied the veteran. “I had no right to + compromise you upon mere conjecture, however reasonable. I awaited your + authority to take any move in so delicate a matter. Can you blame me? On + one side my friend's dignity, on the other a young lady's peace of mind, + and that young lady my brother's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “You were right, my dear sir; I see and appreciate your reserve, your + delicacy, though I am about to remove its cause. I declare myself to you + your niece's admirer; have I your permission to address her?” + </p> + <p> + “You have, and my warmest wishes for your success.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I think I may hope to succeed, provided I have a fair chance + afforded me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take care you shall have that.” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer not to have others buzzing about the lady whose affection + I am just beginning to gain.” + </p> + <p> + “You pay this poor sailor an amazing compliment,” said Mr. Fountain, a + little testily; “if he admires Lucy it can only be as a puppy is struck + with the moon above. The moon does not respond to all this wonder by + descending into the whelp's jaws—no more will my niece. But that is + neither here nor there; you are now her declared suitor, and you have a + right to stipulate; in short, you have only to say the word, and 'exeunt + Dodds,' as the play-books say.” + </p> + <p> + “Dodds? I have no objection to the lady. Would it not be possible to + invite her to tea alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite possible, but useless. She would not stir out without her brother.” + </p> + <p> + “She seems a little person likely to give herself airs. Well, then, in + that case, though as you say I am no doubt raising Mr. Dodd to a false + importance, still—” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more; we should indulge the whims of our friends, not attack them + with reasons. You will see the Dodds no more in my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that, just as you please. Perhaps they would be as well out of + it,” said Talboys, with a sudden affectation of carelessness. “I must not + take you too far. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Go-o-d night!” + </p> + <p> + Poor David. He was to learn how little real hold upon society has the man + who can only instruct and delight it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain bustled home, rubbing his hands with delight. “Aha!” thought + he; “jealous! actually jealous! absurdly jealous! That is a good sign. Who + would have thought so proud a man could be jealous of a sailor? I have + found out your vulnerable point, my friend. I'll tell Lucy; how she will + laugh. David Dodd! Now we know how to manage him, Lucy and I. If he + freezes back again, we have but to send for David Dodd and his fiddle.” He + bustled home, and up into the drawing-room to tell Lucy Mr. Talboys had at + last declared himself. His heart felt warm. He would settle six thousand + pounds on Mrs. Talboys during his life and his whole fortune after his + death. + </p> + <p> + He found the drawing-room empty. He rang the bell. “Where is Miss + Fountain?” John didn't know, but supposed she had gone to her room. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know? You never know anything. Send her maid to me.” + </p> + <p> + The maid came and courtesied demurely at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your mistress I want to speak to her directly—before she + undresses.” + </p> + <p> + The maid went out, and soon returned to say that her mistress had retired + to rest; but that, if he pleased, she would rise, and just make a + demi-toilet, and come to him. This smooth and fair-sounding proposal was + not, I grieve to say, so graciously received as offered. “Much obliged,” + snapped old Fountain. “Her <i>demi-toilette</i> will keep me another hour + out of my bed, and I get no sleep after dinner now <i>among you.</i> Tell + her to-morrow at breakfast time will do.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + DAVID DODD was so radiant and happy for a day or two that Eve had not the + heart to throw cold water on him again. + </p> + <p> + Three days elapsed, and no invitation to Font Abbey; on this his happiness + cooled of itself. But when day after day rolled by, and no Font Abbey, he + was dashed, uneasy, and, above all, perplexed. What could be the reason? + Had he, with his rough ways, offended her? Had she been too dignified to + resent it at the time? Was he never to go to Font Abbey again? Eve's first + feeling was unmixed satisfaction. We have seen already that she expected + no good from this rash attachment. For a single moment her influence and + reasons had seemed to wean David from it; but his violent agitation and + joy at two words of kindly curiosity from Miss Fountain, and the instant + unreasonable revival of love and hope, showed the strange power she had + acquired over him. It made Eve tremble. + </p> + <p> + But now the Fountains were aiding her to cure this folly. She had read + them right, had described them to David aright. A wind of caprice had + carried him and her into Font Abbey; another such wind was carrying them + out. No event had happened. Mr. and Miss Fountain had been seen more than + once in the village of late. “They have dropped us, and thank Heaven!” + said Eve, in her idiomatic way. + </p> + <p> + She pitied David deeply, and was kinder and kinder to him now, to show him + she felt for him; but she never mentioned the Font Abbey people to him + either to praise or blame them, though it was all she could do to suppress + her satisfaction at the turn their insolent caprice had taken. + </p> + <p> + That satisfaction was soon clouded. This time, instead of rousing himself + and his pride, David sank into a moody despondency; varied by occasional + fretfulness. His appetite went, and his bright color, and his elastic + step. This silent sadness was so new in him, such a contrast to his + natural temperature, large, genial, and ever cheerful, that Eve could not + bear it. “I must shake him out of this, at all hazards,” thought she: yet + she put off the experiment, and put it off, partly in hopes that David + would speak first, partly because she saw the wound she would probe was + deep, and she winced beforehand for her patient. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, prolonged doubt and suspense now goaded with their intolerable + stings the active spirit that chill misgivings had at first benumbed. + Spurred into action by these torments, David had already watched several + days in the neighborhood of Font Abbey, determined to speak to Miss + Fountain, and find out whether he had given her offense; for this was + still his uppermost idea. Having failed in this attempt at an interview + with her, he was now meditating a more resolute course, and he paced the + little gravel-walk at home debating in himself the pros and cons. Raising + his head suddenly, he saw his sister walking slowly at the other end of + the path. She was coming toward him, but her eyes were bent thoughtfully + on the ground. David slipped behind some bushes, not to have his + unhappiness and his meditations interrupted. The lover and the lunatic + have points in common. + </p> + <p> + He had been there some time when a grave little voice spoke quietly to him + from the lawn. “David, I want to speak to you.” David came out. + </p> + <p> + “Here am I.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew where you were. Don't do that again, sir, please, or you'll + catch it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't think you saw me,” said David, somewhat confusedly. + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with it, stupid? David,” continued she, assuming a + benevolent, cheerful, and somewhat magnificent nonchalance, “I sometimes + wonder you don't come to me with your troubles. I might advise you as well + as here and there one. But perhaps you think now, because I am naturally + gay, I am not sensible. You mustn't go by that altogether. Manner is very + deceiving. The most foolishly conducted men and women ever I met were as + grave as judges, and as demure as cats after cream. Bless you, there is + folly in every heart. Your slow ones bottle it up for use against the day + wisdom shall be most needed. My sort let it fizz out at their mouths in + their daily talk, and keep their good sense for great occasions, like the + present.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we drifted among the proverbs of Solomon?” inquired David, dryly. + “No need to make so many tacks, Eve. Haven't I seen your sense and + profited by it—I and one or two more? Who but you has steered the + house this ten years, and commanded the lubberly crew?” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The reader must not be misled by the familiar phraseology + of these two speakers to suppose that anything the least + droll or humorous was intended by either of them at any part + of this singular dialogue. Their hearts were sad and their + faces grave. +</pre> + <p> + “And then again, David, where the heart is concerned, young women are + naturally in advance of young men.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows. He made them both. I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, all the world knows it. And then, besides, I am five years older + than you. + </p> + <p> + “So mother says; but I don't know how to believe it. No one would say so + to look at you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you, David. Folk that have small features look a deal younger + than their years; and you know poor father used to say my face was the + pattern of a flat-iron. So nobody gives me my age; but I am five good + years older than you, only you needn't go and tell the town crier.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Eve?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, put all these together, and now, why not come to me for + friendly advice and the voice of reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Reason! reason! there are other lights besides reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack-o'-lantern, eh? and Will-o'-the-wisp.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, nobody can advise me that can't feel for me. Nobody can feel for me + that doesn't know my pain; and you don't know that, because you were never + in love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, if I had ever been in love, you would listen.” + </p> + <p> + “As I would to an angel from Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “And be advised by me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? for then you'd be competent to advise; but now you haven't an + idea what you are talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! Don't you think it would be as well if you were not to speak + to me so sulky?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask your pardon; Eve. I did not mean to offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Davy, dear—for God's sake what is this chill that has come between + you and me? You are a man. Speak out like a man.” + </p> + <p> + David turned his great calm, sorrowful eye full upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Eve, if the truth must be told, I am disappointed in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, David.” + </p> + <p> + “A little. You are not the girl I took you for. You know which way my + fancy lies, yet you keep steering me in the teeth of it; then you see how + down-hearted I am this while, but not a word of comfort or hope comes from + you, and me almost dried up for want of one.” + </p> + <p> + “Make one word of it, David—I am not a sister to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just when I + want you with me the most.” + </p> + <p> + “Now this is what I like,” said Eve, cheerfully; “this is plain speaking. + So now it is my turn, my lad. Do you remember Balaam and his ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said David; but, used as he was to Eve's transitions, he couldn't + help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Then what did the ass say when she broke silence at last?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don't remember her very words, + but the tune of them I do. Why, she sang out, 'Avast there! it is first + fault, so you needn't be so hasty with your thundering rope's end.”' + </p> + <p> + “There! You'd make a nice commentator. You haven't taken it up one bit; + you are as much in the dark as our parson. He preached on her the very + Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping up into + the pulpit, and snatching away his book, and letting daylight in on them.” + </p> + <p> + David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline. + “That is ridiculous,” said he; “one can't have two skippers in a church + any more than in a ship, brig, or bark. But you can let daylight in on + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean. To begin: the ass was in the right and Balaam in the wrong; so + what becomes of your 'first fault?' She was frugal of her words, but every + syllable was a needle; the worst is, some skins are so thick our needles + won't enter 'em. Says she, 'This seven years you have known me; always + true to the bridle and true to you. Did ever I disobey you before? Then + why go and fancy I do it without some great cause that you can't see?' + Then the man's eyes were open, and he saw it was destruction his old + friend had run back from, and galled his foot to save his life; so of + course he thanked her, and blessed her then. Not he. He was too much of a + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, I see; but what is the moral? for I have no heart to expound + riddles.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll tell you the moral sooner than you'll like, perhaps. The ass is + a type, David. In Holy Writ you know almost everything is a type. When a + thing means one thing and stands for another, that's a type.” + </p> + <p> + “Ducks can swim—at least I've heard so. Now if you could tell me + what she is a type of?” + </p> + <p> + “What, the ass? Don't you know? Why, of women, to be sure—of us poor + creatures of burden, underrated and misunderstood all the world over. And + Balaam he stands for men, and for you at the head of them,” cried she, + turning round with flashing eyes on David; “you have known me and my true + affection more than seven years, or seventeen. I carried you in my arms + when you were a year old and I was six. You were my little curly-headed + darling, and have been from that day to this. Did ever I cross you, or be + cold or unkind to you, till the other day?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Eve, no, no, no! Come sit beside me. + </p> + <p> + “Then shouldn't you have said, 'Don't slobber <i>me;</i> I won't have it; + you and I are bad friends.' Oughtn't you to have said, 'Eve could never + give herself the pain of crossing me' (no, there isn't a man in the world + with gumption enough to say that—that is a woman's thought); but at + least you might have said, 'She sees rocks ahead that I can't.' (Balaam + couldn't see the drawn sword ahead, but there it was.) it was for you to + say, 'My sister Eve would not change from gay to grave all at once, and + from indulging me in everything to thwarting me and vexing me, unless she + saw some great danger threatening your peace of mind, your career in life, + your very reason, perhaps.'” + </p> + <p> + “I have been to blame, Eve; but speak out and let me know the worst. You + have heard something against her character? Speak plain out, for Heaven's + sake!” + </p> + <p> + “It is all very well of you to say speak plain out, but there are things + girls don't like to speak about to any man. But after what you said, that + you would listen to me if I—so it is my duty. You will see my face + red enough in about a minute. Two years ago I couldn't have done this even + for you. It is hard I must expose my own folly—my own crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Eve, lass, how you tremble! Drop it now! drop it!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” said Eve, sharply, but in considerable agitation. “It + is too late now, after something you have said to me. If I didn't speak + out now, I should be like that bad man you told us of, who let out the + beacon light when the wind was blowing hard on shore. Listen, David, and + take my words to heart. The road you are on now I have been upon, only I + went much farther on it than you shall go.” She resumed after a short + pause: “You remember Henry Dyke?” + </p> + <p> + “What, the young clergyman, who used to be always alongside you at our + last anchorage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He was just such a man as Miss Fountain is a woman. He was but a + dish of skim-milk, yet he could poison my life.” + </p> + <p> + Then Eve told the story of her heart. She described her lover as he + appeared to her in the early days of courtship, young, handsome, good, + noble in sentiment, and warm and tender in manner. Halcyon days—not + a speck to be seen on love's horizon. + </p> + <p> + Then she delineated the fine gradations by which the illusion faded, too + slowly and too late for her to withdraw the love she had conceived for his + person at that time when person and mind seemed alike superior. She + painted with the delicate touch of her sex the portrait of a man and a + scholar born to please all the world, and incapable of condensing his + affections; a pious flirt, no longer stimulated to genuine ardor by doubts + of success, but too kind-hearted to pain her beyond measure when a little + factitious warmth from time to time would give her hours of happiness, + keep her, on the whole, content, and, above all, retain her his. Then she + shifted the mirror to herself, the fiery and faithful one, and showed + David what centuries of torture a good little creature like this Dyke, + with its charming exterior, could make a quick, and ardent, and devoted + nature suffer in a year or two. Came out in her narrative, link by link, + the gentle delicious complacency of the first period, the chill airs that + soon ruffled it, the glowing hopes, the misgivings that dashed them; then + the diminution of confidence, more complexing and exasperating than its + utter loss; the alternations of joy and doubt, the fever and the ague of + the wounded spirit; then the gusts of hatred followed by deeper love; + later still, the periodical irritation at hopes long deferred, and still + gleams of bliss between the paroxysms, so that now, as the vulgar say in + their tremendous Saxon, she “spent her time between heaven and hell”; last + of all, the sickness and recklessness of the wornout and wearied heart + over which melancholy or fury impended. + </p> + <p> + It was at this crisis when, as she could now see on a calm retrospect, her + mind was distempered, a new and terrible passion stepped upon the scene—jealousy. + A friend came and whispered her, “Mr. Dyke was courting another woman at + the same time, and that other woman was rich.” + </p> + <p> + “David, at that word a flash of lightning seemed to go through me, and + show me the man as he really was.” + </p> + <p> + “The mean scoundrel, to sell himself for money!!” + </p> + <p> + “No, David, he would not have sold himself, with his eyes open, any more + than perhaps your Miss Fountain would; but what little heart he had he + could give to any girl that was not a fright. He was a self-deceiver and a + general lover, and such characters and their affections sink by nature to + where their interest lies. Iron is not conscious, yet it creeps toward the + loadstone. Well, while she was with me I held up and managed to question + her as coldly as I speak to you now, but as soon as she left me I went off + in violent hysterics.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “She had not been gone an hour when doesn't the Devil put it into <i>his</i> + head to send me a long, affectionate letter, and in the postscript he + invited himself to supper the same afternoon. Then I got up and dried my + eyes, and I seemed to turn into stone with resolution. 'Come!' I said, + 'but don't think you shall ever go back to her. Your troubles and mine + shall end to-night.'” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Eve, you turn pale with thinking of it. I fear you have had worse + thoughts pass through your mind than any man is worth.” + </p> + <p> + “David, your blood was in my veins, and mine is in yours. + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't think so! The Lord deliver us from temptation! We don't know + ourselves nor those we love.” + </p> + <p> + “He had driven me mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad, indeed. What! had you the heart to see the man bleed to death—the + man you had loved—you, my little gentle Eve?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no; no blood!” said Eve, with a shudder. “Laudanum!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see your thought. No, I was not like the men in the newspapers, + that kill the poor woman with a sure hand, and then give themselves a + scratch. It was to be one spoonful for him, but two for me. I can't dwell + on it” (and she hid her face in her hands); “it is too terrible to + remember how far I was misled. Who, think you, saved us both?” David could + not guess. + </p> + <p> + “A little angel—my good angel, that came home from sea that very + afternoon. When I saw your curly head, and your sweet, sunburned face come + in at the door, guess if I thought of putting death in the pot after that? + Ah! the love of our own flesh and blood, that is the love—God and + good angels can smile on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but go on,” said David, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “It is ended, David. They say a woman's heart is a riddle, and perhaps you + will think so when I tell you that when he had brought me down to this, + and hadn't died for it, I turned as cold as ice to him that minute, once + and forever. I looked back at the precipice, and I hated him. Ay, from + that evening he was like the black dog to my eye. I used to slip anywhere + to hide out of his way—just as you did out of mine but now.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you forget that? Well, to be sure. Well?” + </p> + <p> + “So then (now you may learn what these skim-milk cheeses are made of), + when he found he was my aversion, he fell in love with me again as hot as + ever; tried all he could think of to win me back; wrote a letter every + day; came to me every other day; and when he saw it was all over for good + between us he cried and bellowed till my hate all went, and scorn came in + its place. Next time we met he played quite another part—the calm, + heart-broken Christian; gave me his blessing; went down on his knees, and + prayed a beautiful prayer, that took me off my guard and made me almost + respect him; then went away, and quietly married the girl with money; and + six months after wrote to me he was miserable, dated from the vicarage her + parents had got him.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you know, if he wasn't a parson, d—n me if I'd turn in + to-night till I'd rope's-ended that lubber!” + </p> + <p> + “As if I'd let you dirty your hands with such rubbish! I sent the note + back to him with just one line, 'Such a fool as you are has no right to be + a villain.' There, David, there is your poor sister's life. Oh, what I + went through for that man! Often I said, is Heaven just, to let a poor, + faithful, loving girl, who has done no harm, be played with on the hook, + and tortured hot and cold, day after day, month after month, year after + year, as I was? But now I see why it was permitted; it was for your sake, + that you might profit by my sharp experience, and not fling your heart + away on frozen mud, as I did;” and, happy in this feminine theory of + Divine justice, Eve rested on her brother a look that would have adorned a + seraph, then took him gently round the neck and laid her little cheek flat + to his. + </p> + <p> + She felt as if she had just saved a beloved life. + </p> + <p> + Who can estimate the value of a happiness so momentary, yet so holy? + </p> + <p> + Presently looking up, she saw David's face illuminated. “What is it?” she + asked joyously; “you look pleased.” + </p> + <p> + David was “pleased because now he was sure she could feel for him, and + would side with him.” + </p> + <p> + “That I do; but, David, as it is all over between you and her—” + </p> + <p> + “All over? Am I dead then?” + </p> + <p> + Eve gasped with astonishment: “Why, what have I been telling you all this + for?” + </p> + <p> + “Who should you tell your trouble to but your own brother? Why, Eve—ha! + ha!—you don't really see any likeness between your case and mine, do + you? You are not so blind as to compare her with that thundering muff?” + </p> + <p> + “They are brother and sister, as we are,” was the reply. “Ever since I saw + you looked her way, my eye has hardly been off her, and she is Henry Dyke + in petticoats.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't thank you for saying that. Well, and if she is, what has that to + do with it? I am not a woman. I am not forced to lie to waiting for a + wind, as the girls are. I am a man. I can work for the wish of my heart, + and, if it does not come to meet me, I can overhaul it.” Eve was a little + staggered by this thrust, but she was not one to show an antagonist any + advantage he had obtained. “David,” said she, coldly, “it must come to one + of two things; either she will send you about your business in form, which + is a needless affront for you and me both, or she will hold you in hand, + and play with you and drive you <i>mad.</i> Take warning; remember what is + in our blood. Father was as well as you are, but agitation and vexation + robbed him of his reason for a while; and you and I are his children. Milk + of roses creeps along in that young lady's veins, but fire gallops in + ours. Give her up, David, as she has you. She has let you escape; don't + fly back like a moth to the candle! You shan't, however; I won't let you.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” said David, quietly, “you argue well, but you can't argue light + into dark, nor night into day. She is the sun to me. I have seen her + light; and now I can't live without it.” + </p> + <p> + He added, more calmly: “It is her or none. I never saw a girl but this + that I wanted to see twice, and I never shall.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is that which frightens me for you, David. Often I have wished I + could see you flirt a bit and harden your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “And break some poor girl's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang them! they always contrive to pass it on. What do I care for + girls! they are not my brother. But no, David, I can't believe you will go + against me and my judgment after the insult she has put on you. No more + about it, but just you choose between my respect and this wild-goose + chase.” + </p> + <p> + “I choose both,” said David, quietly. “Both you shan't have”; and, with + this, up bounced Eve, and stood before him bristling like a + cat-o'mountain. David tried to soothe her—to coax her—in vain; + her cheek was on fire, and her eyes like basilisks'. It was a picture to + see the pretty little fury stand so erect and threatening, great David so + humble and deprecating, yet so dogged. At last he took out his knife; it + was not one of your stabbing-knives, but the sort of pruning-knife that no + sailor went without in those days. “Now,” said he, sadly, “take and cut my + head off—cut me to pieces, if you will—I won't wince or + complain; and then you will get your way; but while I do live I shall love + her, and I can't afford to lose her by sitting twiddling my thumbs, + waiting for luck. I'll try all I know to win her, and if I lose her I + won't blame her, but myself for not finding out how to please her; and + with that I'll live a bachelor all my days for her, or else die, just as + God wills—I shan't much care which.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know you, you obstinate toad,” said Eve, clinching her teeth and + her little hand. Then she burst out furiously: “Are you quite resolved?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite, dear Eve,” said David, sadly—but somehow it was like a rock + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is my hand,” said Eve, with an instant transition to amiable + cheerfulness that dazzled a body like a dark lantern flying open. Used as + David was to her, it stupefied him; he stared at her, and was all abroad. + “Well, what is the wonder now?” inquired Eve; “there are but two of us. We + must be together somehow or another must we not? You won't be wise with + me; well, then, I'll be a fool with you. I'll help you with this girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “You won't gain much. Without me you hadn't the shadow of a chance, and + with me you haven't a chance, that is all the odds.” + </p> + <p> + “I have! I have! you have taken away my breath with joy;” and David was + quite overcome with the turn Eve had taken in his favor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you need not thank me,” said Eve, tossing her head with a hypocrisy + all her own. “It is not out of affection for you I do it, you may be very + sure of that; but it looks so ridiculous to see my brother slipping out of + my way behind a tree as soon as he sees me coming—oh! oh! oh! oh!” + And a violent burst of sobs and tears revealed how that incident had + rankled in this stoical little heart. + </p> + <p> + David, with the tear in his own eye, clasped her in his arms, and kissed + her and coaxed her and begged her again and again to forgive him. This she + did internally at the first word; but externally no; pouted and sobbed + till she had exacted her full tribute, then cleared up with sudden + alacrity and inquired his plans. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to call at Font Abbey, and find out whether I have offended + her.” + </p> + <p> + Eve demurred, “That would never do. You would betray yourself and there + would be an end of you. How good I am not to let you go. No, I'll call + there. I shall quietly find out whether it is her doing that we have not + been invited so long, or whose it is. You stay where you are. I won't be a + minute.” + </p> + <p> + When the minute was thirty-five, David came under her window and called + her. She popped her head out: “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Putting on my bonnet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have been an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't have me go there a fright, would you?” + </p> + <p> + At last she came down and started for Font Abbey, and David was left to + count the minutes till her return. He paced the gravel sailor-wise, taking + six steps and then turning, instead of going in each direction as far as + he could. He longed and feared his sister's return. One hour—two + hours elapsed; still he walked a supposed deck on the little lawn—six + steps and then turn. At last he saw her coming in the distance; he ran to + meet her; but when he came up with her he did not speak, but looked + wistfully in her face, and tried hard to read it and his fate. + </p> + <p> + “Now, David, don't make a fool of yourself, or I won't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I'll be calm, I will—be—calm.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, for one thing, she is to drink tea with us this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Who? What? Where? Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Here.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + MR. FOUNTAIN sat at breakfast opposite his niece with a twinkle set in his + eye like a cherry-clack in a tree, relishing beforehand her smiles, and + blushes, and gratitude to him for having hooked and played his friend, so + that now she had but to land him. “I'll just finish this delicious cup of + coffee,” thought he, “and then I'll tell you, my lady.” While he was + slowly sipping said cup, Lucy looked up and said graciously to him, “How + silly Mr. Talboys was last night—was he not, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Talboys? silly? what? do you know? Why, what on earth do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Silly is a harsh word—injudicious, then—praising me <i>a tort + et a travers,</i> and was downright ill-bred—was discourteous to + another of our guests, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound Mr. Dodd! I wish I had never invited him.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. If you remember, I dissuaded you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do remember now. What! you don't like him, either?” + </p> + <p> + “There you are mistaken, dear. I esteem Mr. Dodd highly, and Miss Dodd, + too, in spite of her manifest defects; but in making up parties, however + small, we should choose our guests with reference to each other, not + merely to ourselves. Now, forgive me, it was clear beforehand that Mr. + Talboys and the Dodds, especially Miss Dodd, would never coalesce; hence + my objection in inviting them; but you overruled me—with a rod of + iron, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why? Because you gave me such a bad reason; you never said a + word about this incongruity.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was in my mind all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't it come out?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—because something else would come out instead. As if one + gave one's real reasons for things!! Now, uncle dear, you allow me great + liberties, but would it have been quite the thing for me to lecture you + upon the selection of your own <i>convives?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have ended by doing it.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored. “Not till the event proves—not till—” + </p> + <p> + “Not till your advice is no longer any use.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, driven into a corner, replied by an imploring look, which had just + the opposite effect of argument. It instantly disarmed the old boy; he + grinned superior, and spared his supple antagonist three sarcasms that + were all on the tip of his tongue. He was rewarded for his clemency by a + little piece of advice, delivered by his niece with a sort of hesitating + and penitent air he did not understand one bit, eyes down upon the cloth + all the time. + </p> + <p> + It came to this. He was to listen to her suggestions with a prejudice in + their favor if he could, and give them credit for being backed by good + reasons; at all events, he was never to do them the injustice to suppose + they rested on those puny considerations she might put forward in + connection with them. + </p> + <p> + “Silly” is a term carrying with it a certain promptness and decision; + above all, it was a very remarkable word for Lucy to use. “The girl is a + martinet in these things,” thought he; “she can't forgive the least bit of + impoliteness. I suppose he snubbed Jack Tar. What a crime! But I had + better let this blow over before I go any farther.” So he postponed his + disclosure till to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + But, before to-morrow came, he had thought it over again, and convinced + himself it would be the wiser course not to interfere at all for the + present, except by throwing the young people constantly together. He had + lived long enough to see that, in nine cases out of ten, husband and wife + might be defined “a man and a woman that were thrown a good deal together—generally + in the country.” A marries B, and C D; but, under similar circumstances, + i.e., thrown together, A would have married D, and C B. This applies to + puppy dogs, male and female, as well as to boys and girls. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps a personal feeling had some little share, too, in bringing him to + the above conclusion. He was a bit of a schemer—liked to play + puppets. At present, his niece and friend were the largest and finest + puppets he had on hand; the day he should bring them to a mutual, rational + understanding, the puppet-strings would fall from his hands and the + puppets turn independent agents. He represented to Talboys that Lucy was + young and very innocent in some respects; that marriage did not seem to + run in her head as in most girls'; that a precipitate avowal might startle + her, and raise unnecessary difficulties by putting her on her guard too + early in their acquaintance. “You have no rival,” he concluded; “best win + her quietly by degrees. Undermine the coy jade! she is worth it.” Cool + Talboys acquiesced. David had spurred him out of his pace one night; but + David was put out of the way; the course was clear; and, as he could walk + over it now, why gallop? + </p> + <p> + Childish as his friend's jealousy of this poor sailor had seemed to Mr. + Fountain, still, the idea once started, he could not help inspecting Lucy + to see how she would take his sudden exclusion from these parties. Now + Lucy missed the Dodds very much, and was surprised to see them invited no + more. But it was not in her character to satisfy a curiosity of this sort + by putting a point-blank question to the person who could tell her in two + words. She was one of those thorough women whose instinct it is to find + out little things, not to ask about them. When day after day passed by, + and the Dodds were not invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that + there must be some reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no + notice, and the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out. She half + suspected Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion. With unruffled + demeanor and tranquil patience, she watched demurely for disclosures from + her uncle or from him like the prettiest little velvet panther conceivable + lying flat in a blind path, deranging nobody, but waiting with amiable + tranquillity for her friends to come her way. + </p> + <p> + Thus, under the smooth surface of the little society at Font Abbey <i>finesse</i> + was cannily at work. But the surface of every society is like the skin of + a man—hides a deal of secret machinery. + </p> + <p> + Here were two undermining a “coy jade” (perhaps, on the whole, Uncle + Fountain, it might be more prudent in you not to call her that name again; + you see she is my heroine, and I am a man that could cut you out of this + story, and nobody miss you), and the coy jade watching for the miners like + a sweet little velvet panther, and, to fling away metaphor, an honest + heart set aching sore, hard by, for having come among such a lot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + A FABLE tells us a fowler one day saw sitting in tree a wood-pigeon. This + is a very shy bird, so he had to creep and maneuver to get within gunshot + unseen, unheard. He stole from tree to tree, and muffled his footsteps in + the long grass so adroitly that, just as he was going to pull the trigger, + he stepped light as a feather on a venomous snake. It bit; he died. + </p> + <p> + This is instructive and pointed, but a trifle severe. + </p> + <p> + What befell Uncle Fountain, busy enmeshing his cock and hen pheasant, + netting a niece and a friend, went to the same tune, but in a lower key, + as befitted a domestic tale.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “Domestic,” you are aware, is Latin for “tame.” Ex., + “domestic fowl,” “domestic drama,” “story of domestic + intereet,” “or chronicle of small beer,” + </pre> + <p> + Among his letters at breakfast-time came one which he had no sooner read + than he flung on the table and went into a fury. Lucy sat aghast; then + inquired in tender anxiety what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + Angry explanations are apt to be dark ones. “It is a confounded shame—it + is a trick, child—it is a do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what is that, uncle? 'a do'?—'a do'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'a do.' He knew I hated figures; can't bear the sight of them, and + the cursed responsibility of adding them up right.” + </p> + <p> + “But who knew all this?” + </p> + <p> + “He came over here bursting with health, and asked me to be one of his + executors—mind, one. I consented on a distinct understanding I was + never to be called upon to act. He was twenty years my junior, and like so + much mahogany. It was just a form; I did it to soothe a man who called + himself my friend, and set his mind at rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But, uncle dear, I don't understand even now. Can it be possible that a + friend has abused your good nature?” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” with an angry sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Has he betrayed your confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear! What has he done?” + </p> + <p> + “Died, that is all,” snarled the victim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, uncle! Poor man!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man, no doubt. But how about poor me? Why, it turns out I am sole + executor.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear uncle, how could the poor soul help dying?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not candid, Lucy,” said Mr. Fountain, severely. “Did ever I say + he could help dying? But he could help coming here under false colors, a + mahogany face, and trapping his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, what is the use—your trying to play the misanthrope with me, + who know how good you are, in spite of your pretenses to the contrary? To + hide your emotion from your poor niece, you go into a feigned fury, and + all the time you know how sorry you are your poor friend is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. He has secured one mourner. He might have died to all + eternity if he hadn't nailed me first. See how selfish men are, and + bad-hearted into the bargain. I believe that young fellow had been to a + doctor, and found out he was booked in spite of his mahogany cheeks; so + then he rides out here and wheedles an unguarded friend—I'm wired—I'm + trapped—I'm snared.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy set herself to soothe her injured relative. “You must say to + yourself, <i>'C'est un petit matheur.'”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Tell myself a falsehood? What shall I gain by that? Let me tell you, it + is these minor troubles that send a man to Bedlam. One breeds another, + till they swarm and buzz you distracted, and sting you dead. <i>'Petit + maiheur!''</i> it is a greater one than you have ever encountered since you + have been under <i>my</i> wing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, dear, it is; but I hope to encounter much greater ones before I am + your age.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you do!” + </p> + <p> + “Or else I shall die without ever having lived—a vegetable, not a + human being.” + </p> + <p> + “Bombast! a 'flower' your lovers will call you.” + </p> + <p> + “And men of sense a 'weed.' But don't let us discuss me. What I wish to + know is the nature of your annoyance, dear.” He explained to her with a + groan that he should have to wind up all the affairs of an estate of 8,000 + pounds a year, pay the annual and other encumbrances, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, dear, you will be quite at home in this, you have such a turn + for business.” + </p> + <p> + “For my own,” shrieked the old bachelor, angrily, “not for other people's. + Why, Lucy, there will be half a dozen separate accounts, all of four + figures. It is not as if executors were paid. And why are they not paid? + There ought to be a law compelling the estates they administer to pay + them, and handsomely. It never occurred to me before, but now I see the + monstrous iniquity of amateur executors, amateur trustees, amateur + guardians. They take business out of the hands of those who live by + business. I sincerely regret my share in this injustice. If a snob works, + he always expects to be paid! how much more a gentleman. He ought to be + paid double—once for the work, and once for giving up his natural + ease. Here am I, guardian gratis to a cub of sixteen—the worst age—done + school, and not begun Oxford and governesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Tutors, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I? Is it the tutors the whelps fall in love with, little goose? Stop; + I'll describe my 'interesting charge,' as the books call it. He has hair + you could not tell from tow. He has no eyebrows—a little unfledged + slippery horror. He used to come in to dessert, and turn all our stomachs + except his silly father's.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor orphan!” + </p> + <p> + “When you speak to him he never answers—blushes instead.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “He has read of eloquent blushes, and thinks there is no need to reply in + words—blushing must be such an interesting and effective + substitute.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy, he wants a little judicious kindness. We will have him here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried the old gentleman, with horror. “What! make Font Abbey a + kennel!!! No, Lucy, no, this house is sacred; no nuisances admitted here. + Here, on this single spot of earth, reigns comfort, and shall reign + unruffled while I live. This is the temple of peace. If I must be worried, + I must, but not beneath this hallowed roof.” + </p> + <p> + This eloquence, delivered as it was with a sudden solemnity, told upon the + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Font Abbey,” murmured Lucy, half closing her eyes, “how well you + describe it! Societies of the cosey; the walls seem padded, the carpets + velvet, and the whole structure care-proof; all is quiet gayety and sweet + punctuality. Here comfort and good humor move by clock-work; that is Font + Abbey. Yet you are right; if you were to be seen in it no more, it would + lose the life of its charm, dear Uncle Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear—thank you. I do like to see my friends about me + comfortable, and, above all, to be comfortable myself. The place is well + enough, and I am bitterly sorry I must leave it, and sorry to leave you, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave us? not immediately?” + </p> + <p> + “This very day. Why, the funeral is to be this week—a grand funeral—and + I have to order it all. Then there are relatives to be invited—thirty + letters—others to be asked to the reading of the will. It will be + one hurry-scurry till we get the house clear of the corpse and the + vultures; then at it I must go, head-foremost, into fathomless addition—subtraction—multiplication, + and vexation. 'Oh, now forever farewell, something or other—farewell + content!' You talk of misanthropy. I shall end there. Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I never—do—a good-natured thing—but—I—bitterly—repent + it. By Jupiter! the coffee is cold; the first time that has befallen me + since I turned off seven servants that battled that point of comfort with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy suggested that the coffee might have cooled a little while he was + being so kind as to answer her question at unusual length. Then she came + round to him bringing a fresh supply of fragrant slow poison, and sat + beside him and soothed him till his ire went down, and came the calm + depression of a man who, accustomed for many years to do just what he + liked, found himself suddenly obliged to do something he did not like—a + thing out of the groove of his habits too. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, he left Font Abbey the same day, with a promise, exacted by + Lucy, that he should make her the partner of all his vexations by writing + to her every day. + </p> + <p> + “And, Lucy,” said the old Parthian, as he stepped into his + traveling-carriage, “my friend Talboys will miss me; pray be kind to him + while I am away. He is a particular friend of mine. I may be wrong, but I + do like men of known origin—of old family.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right. I will be kind to him for your sake, dear.” + </p> + <p> + A slight cold confined Lucy to the house for three or four days after her + uncle's departure (by the by, I think this must have been the reason of + David's ill success in his endeavors to get an interview with her out of + doors). + </p> + <p> + Thus circumstanced, ladies rummage. + </p> + <p> + Lucy found in a garret a chest containing a quantity of papers and + parchments, and the beautifulest dust. No such dust is made in these + degenerate days. Some of these MSS. bore recent dates, and were easily + legible, though not so easily intelligible, being written as Gratiano + spake.* The writers had omitted to put the idea'd words into red ink, so + they had to be picked out with infinite difficulty from the multitude of + unidea'd ones. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing . . . . his + reasons are as three grains of wheat in two bushels of + chaff.” + </pre> + <p> + Other of the MSS., more ancient, wore a double veil. They hid their sense + in verbiage, and also in narrow Germanifled letters, farther deformed by + contractions and ornamental flourishes, whose joint effect made a word + look like a black daddy-long-legs, all sprawling fantastic limbs and the + body a dot. + </p> + <p> + The perusal of these pieces was slow and painful; it was like walking or + slipping about among broken ruins overgrown with nettles. But then Uncle + Fountain was so anxious to hook on to the Flunkeys—oh, Ciel! what am + I saying?—the Funteyns, and his direct genealogical evidence had so + completely broken down. She said to herself, “Oh dear! if I could find + something among these old writings, and show it him on his return.” She + had them all dusted and brought down, and a table-cloth laid on a long + table in the drawing-room, and spelled them with a good-humored patience + that belonged partly to her character, partly to her sex. A female who + undertakes this sort of work does not skip as we should; the habit of + needle-work in all its branches reconciles that portion of mankind to + invisible progress in other matters. + </p> + <p> + Besides this, they are naturally careful, and, above all, born to endure, + they carry patience into nearly all they do.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * At about the third rehearsal of a new play our actresses + bring the author's words into their heads, our actors are + still all abroad, and at the first performance the breaks- + down are sure to be among the males; the female jumenta + carry their burden (be it of pig-lead) safe from wing to + wing. +</pre> + <p> + Lucy made her way manfully through all the well-written circumlocution, + and in a very short time considering; but the antique [Greek] tried her + eyes too much at night, so she gave nearly her whole day to it, for she + was anxious to finish all before her uncle's return. It was a curious + picture—Venus immersed in musty records. + </p> + <p> + One day she had studied and spelled four mortal hours, when a visitor was + suddenly announced—Miss Dodd. That young lady came briskly in at the + heels of the servant and caught Lucy at her work. After the first + greeting, her eye rested with such undisguised curiosity on the “mouldy + records” that Lucy told her in general terms what she was trying to do for + her uncle. “La!” said Eve, “you will ruin your eye-sight; why not send + them over to us? I will make David read them.” + </p> + <p> + “And his eyesight?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bless you, he has a knack at reading old writing. He has made a study + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought I was not presuming too far on Mr. Dodd's good nature, I + would send one or two of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do; and I will make him draw up a paper of the contents; I have seen him + at this sort of work before now. But there, la! I suppose you know it is + all vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “I do it to please my poor uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “And very good you are. But what the better will the poor old gentleman + be? We are here to act our own part well; we can't ride up to heaven on + our great-grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + These maxims were somewhat coldly received, so Eve shifted her ground. + “After all, I don't know why I should be the one to say that, for my own + name is older than your uncle's a pretty deal.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked puzzled; then suddenly fancying she had caught Eve's meaning, + she said: “That is true. Hail mother of mankind!!” and bowed her head with + graceful reverence. + </p> + <p> + Eve stared and colored, not knowing what on earth her companion meant. I + am afraid it must be owned that Eve steadily eschewed books and always + had. What little book-learning she had came to her filtered through David, + and by this channel she accepted it willingly, even sought it at odd + times, when there was no bread, pudding, dress, theology, scandal, or fun + going on. She turned it off by a sudden inquiry where Mr. Fountain was; + “they told me in the village he was away.” Now several circumstances + combined to make Lucy more communicative than usual. First, she had been + studying hard; and, after long study, when a lively person comes to us, it + is a great incitement to talk. Pitiful by nature, I spare you the “bent + bow.” Secondly, she was a little anxious lest her uncle's sudden neglect + should have mortified Miss Dodd, and a neutral topic handled at length + tends to replace friendly feeling without direct and unpleasant + explanations. She therefore answered every question in full; told her that + her uncle had lost a dear friend; that he was executor and guardian to the + poor boy, now entirely an orphan. Her uncle, with his usual zeal on behalf + of his friends; had gone off at once, and doubtless would not return till + he had fulfilled in every respect the wishes of the deceased. + </p> + <p> + To this general sketch she added many details, suppressing the misanthropy + Mr. Fountain had exhibited or affected at the first receipt of the + intelligence. + </p> + <p> + In short, angelic gossip. Earthly gossip always backbites, you know. Eve + missed something somehow, no doubt the human or backbiting element; still, + it was gossip, sacred gossip, far dearer than Shakespeare to the female + heart, and Eve's eyes glowed with pleasure and her tongue plied eager + questions. + </p> + <p> + With all this, such instinctive artists are these delicate creatures, both + these ladies were secretly in ambush, Lucy to learn whether Eve and David + were hurt or surprised at not being invited of late, and why she and he + had not called since; Eve to find out what was the cause David and she had + been so suddenly dropped: was it Lucy's doing or whose? + </p> + <p> + Each lady being bent on receiving, not on making revelations, nothing + transpired on either side. Seeing this, Eve became impatient and made a + bold move. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fountain,” said she, “you are all alone. I wish you would come over + to us this evening and have tea.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy did not immediately reply. Eve saw her hesitation. “It is but a poor + place,” said she, “to ask you to.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come,” said the lady, directly. “I will come with great pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Will seven be too early for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I don't dine now my uncle is away. I call luncheon dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, six, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray let me come at your usual hour. Why derange your family for one + person?” Six o'clock was settled. + </p> + <p> + “I must take some of this rubbish with me,” said Eve; “come along, my + dears”; and with an ample and mock enthusiastic gesture she caught up an + armful of manuscripts. + </p> + <p> + “The servant shall take them over for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother the servant; I am my own servant—if you will lend me a + pin or two.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy drew six pins out from different parts of her dress. Eve noticed + this, but said nothing. She pinned up her apron so as to make an enormous + pocket, and went gayly off with the “spoils of time.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + “Is that what you call being calm, David? Let me alone—don't slobber + me. I am sure I wish she had said, 'No.' If I had thought she would come I + would never have asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “You would, Eve; you would, for love of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? Perhaps I might. I am more indulgent than kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, do tell me all. Is she well? does she come of her own good will? + Dear Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you: first we had a bit of a talk for a blind like; and + her uncle is away; so then I asked her plump to come to tea. Well, David, + first she looked 'No'—only for a single moment, though; she soon + altered her mind, and so then, the moment it was to be 'Yes,' she cleared + up, and you would have thought she had been asked to the king's banquet. + Ah! David, my lad, you have fallen into good hands—you have launched + your heart on a deeper ocean than ever your ship sailed on.” + </p> + <p> + David took no notice. He was in a state of exaltation for one thing, and, + besides, Eve's simile was sent to the wrong address; we terrestrials fear + water in proportion to its depth, but these mariners dread their native + element only when it is shallow. + </p> + <p> + David now kept asking in an excited way what they could do for her. “What + could they get to do her honor? Wouldn't she miss the luxuries of her fine + place?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you be quiet, David; we need not put ourselves about, for she will be + the easiest girl to please you have ever seen here; or, if she isn't, + she'll act it so that you'll be none the wiser. However, you can go and + buy some flowers for me.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will; we have none good enough for her here.” + </p> + <p> + “And, David, tea under the catalpa, as we always do on fine nights.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but I do. These fine ladies are all for novelties. Now I'm much + mistaken if this one has ever had her tea out of doors in all her born + days. What! do you think our little stuffy room would be any treat to her, + after the drawing-room at Font Abbey? Come, you be off till half-past + five; you'll fidget yourself and fidget me else.” + </p> + <p> + David recognized her superiority, obeyed and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Eve, having got rid of him, showed none of the insouciance she had + recommended. She darted into the kitchen, bared her arms, and made wheaten + cakes with unequaled rapidity, the servant looking on with demure + admiration all the while. These put into the oven, she got her keys and + put out the silver teapot, cream jug and sugar basin, things not used + every day, I can tell you; item, the best old china tea service; item, + some rare tea, of which David had brought home a small quantity from + China. At six o'clock Miss Fountain came; a footman marched twenty yards + behind her. She dismissed him at the door, and Eve invited her at once + into the garden. There David joined them, his heart beating violently. She + put out her hand kindly and calmly, and shook hands with him in the most + unembarrassed way imaginable. At the touch of her soft hand every fiber in + him thrilled and the color rushed into his face. At this a faint blush + tinged her own, but no more than the warm welcome she was receiving might + account for. + </p> + <p> + They seated her in a comfortable chair under the catalpa. Presently out + came a nice, clean maid, her white neck half hidden, half revealed, by + plain, unfigured muslin worn where the frock ended. She put the tea things + on the table, and courtesied to Lucy, who returned her salute by a + benignant smile. Out came another stouter one with the kettle, hung it + from a hoop between two stout sticks, and lighted a fire she had laid + underneath, retiring with a parting look at the kettle as soon as it + hissed. Then returned maid one with bread, and wheaten cakes, and fruit, + butter nice and hard from the cellar, and yellow cream, and went off + smiling. + </p> + <p> + A gentle zeal seemed to animate these domestics, as if they, also, in + relative proportions, gave the fete, or at least contributed good will. + Lucy's quick eye caught this. It was new to her. + </p> + <p> + The tea was soon made, and its Oriental fragrance mingled with the other + odors that filled the balmy air. Gay golden broken lights flickered in + patches on the table, the china cups, the ladies' dresses, and the grass, + all but in one place, where the cool deep shadow lay undisturbed around + the foot of the tree-stem. Looking up to see whence the flickering gold + came that sprinkled her white hand, Lucy saw one of the loveliest and + commonest things in nature. The sky was blue—the sun fiery—the + air potable gold outside the tree, so that, as she looked up, the mellow + green leaves of the catalpa, coming between her and the bright sky and + glowing air, shone like transparent gold—staircase upon staircase of + great exotic translucent leaves, with specks of lovely blue sky that + seemed to come down and perch among the top branches. Charming as these + sights were, contrast doubled their beauties; for all these dimples of + bright blue and flakes of translucent gold were eyed from the cool and + from the deep shade. + </p> + <p> + The light, it is true, came down and danced on the turf here and there, + but it left its heat behind through running the gauntlet of the myriad + leaves. Over Lucy's head hung by a silk line from one of the branches a + huge globe of humble but fragrant flowers; they were, in point of fact, + fastened with marvelous skill all round a damp sponge, but she did not + know that. Thus these simple hosts honored their lovely guest. And while + these sights and smells stole into her deep eyes and her delicate + nostrils, “Fiddle, David,” said Eve, loftily, and straightway a simple + mellow tune rang sweetly on the cheerful chords—a rustic, dulcet, + and immortal ditty, in tune with summer and afternoon, with gold-checkered + grass, and leaves that slumbered, yet vibrated, in the glowing air. + </p> + <p> + A bright, dreamy hour; the soul and senses floated gently in color, + fragrance, melody, and great calm. “Each sound seemed but an echo of + tranquillity.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked up and absorbed the scene, then closed her eyes and listened; + and presently her lips parted gradually in so ravishing a smile, her eyes + remaining closed, that even Eve, who saw her in her true light, a terrible + girl come there to burn and destroy David, remaining cool as a cucumber, + could hardly forbear seizing and mumbling her. + </p> + <p> + In certain companies you shall see a boisterous cordiality, which at + bottom is as hollow as diplomacy; but there is a modest geniality which is + to society what the bloom is to the plum. + </p> + <p> + And this charm Lucy found in her hosts of the catalpa. For this very + reason that they were her hosts, their manner to her changed a little, and + becomingly; they made no secret that it was a downright pleasure to them + to have her there. They petted her, and showed her so much simple + kindness, that what with the scene, the music, and her companions' + goodness, the coy bud opened—timidly at first—but in a way it + never had expanded at Font Abbey. + </p> + <p> + She even developed a feeble sense of fun, followed suit demurely when Eve + came out sprightly, laughed like a brook gurgling to Eve's peal of bells, + and lo and behold, when the two girls got together, and faced the man, + strong in numbers, a favorite trick, backed her ally as cowards back the + brave, and set her on to sauce David. They cast doubts upon his skill in + navigation. They perplexed him with treacherous questions in geography, + put with an innocent affectation of a humble desire for information. In + short, they played upon him lightly as they touch the piano. And Eve + carolled a song, and David accompanied her on the fiddle; and at the third + verse Lucy chimed in spontaneously with a second, and the next verse David + struck in with a base, and the tepid air rang with harmony, and poor David + thrilled with happiness. His heart felt his voice mingle and blend with + hers, and even this contact was delicious to his imagination. And they + were happy. But all must end; the shades of evening came down, and the + pleasant little party broke up, and, as John had not come, David asked + leave to escort her home. Oh no, she could not think of giving him that + trouble; so saying, she went home with him. When they were alone, his deep + love made him timid and confused. He walked by her side, and did not speak + to her. She waited with some surprise at this silence, and then, as he was + shy, she talked to him, uttered many airy nothings, and then put questions + to him. “Did he always drink tea out of doors?” + </p> + <p> + “On fine nights in summer. Eve settled all such matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not a voice?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a voice, but no vote. She is skipper ashore.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is she? Who taught her how delicious it is to drink tea out of + doors?” + </p> + <p> + David did not know—fancied it was her own idea. “Did you really like + it, Miss Fountain?” + </p> + <p> + “Like it, Mr. Dodd! It was Elysium. I never passed a sweeter evening in my + life.” + </p> + <p> + David colored all over. “I wish I could believe that.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it the tulip-tree, or the violin, or was it your conversation, Mr. + Dodd, I wonder?” asked she demurely, looking mock-innocent in his face. + </p> + <p> + “It was your goodness to be so easily pleased,” said Dodd, with a gush + that made her color. She smiled, however. “Well, that is one way of + looking at things,” said she. <i>“Entre nous,</i> I think Miss Dodd was + the enchantress.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve is capital company, for that matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed she is; you must be very happy together. Your mutual affection is + very charming, Mr. Dodd, but sometimes it almost makes me sad. Forgive me! + I have no brother.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never want one to love you a thousand times better than a + brother can love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shan't I?” said the lady, and opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No; and there is more than one that worships the ground you tread on at + this moment; but you know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do I?” She opened her eyes still wider. + </p> + <p> + David longed to tell how he loved her, but dared not. He looked wistfully + at her face. It was quite calm and had suddenly became a little reserved. + He felt he was on new and dangerous ground; he sighed and was silent. He + turned away his face. When this involuntary sigh broke from him she turned + her head a little and looked at him. He felt her eye dwell on him, and his + cheeks burned under it. + </p> + <p> + The next moment they were at Font Hill, and Lucy seemed to David to + hesitate whether to give him her hand at parting or not. + </p> + <p> + She did give him her hand, though not so freely, David thought, as she had + done on his own little lawn three hours before, and this dashed his + spirits. It seemed to him a step lost, and he had hoped to gain a step + somehow by walking home with her. He felt like one who has undertaken to + catch some skittish timorous thing, that, if you stand still, will come + within a certain small but safe distance, but you must not move a step + toward it, or, whir, away it is. He went slowly home, his heart warm and + cold by turns; warm when he remembered the sweet hours he had just spent, + and her sweet looks and heavenly tones, every one of which he saw and + heard again; cold when he thought of the social distance that separated + them, and the hundred chances to one against his love. Then he said to + himself: “Time was I thought I could never bring a yard down from the + foretop to the deck, but I mastered that. Time was I thought I could never + work out a logarithm without a formula, but I mastered that. Time was the + fiddle beat me so I was ready to cry over it, but at last I learned to + make it sing, and now I can make her smile with it (God bless her!) + instead of stopping her ears. I can hardly mind the thing that didn't beat + me dead for a long while, but I persevered and got the upper hand. Ay, but + this is higher and harder than them all—a hundred times harder and + higher. + </p> + <p> + “I'll hold my course, let the wind blow high or low, and if I can't + overhaul the wish of my heart, well, I'll carry her flag to the last. I'll + die a bachelor for her sake, as sure as you are the moon, my lass, and you + the polar star, and from this hour I'll never look at you, but I'll make + believe it is her I am looking up at; for she is as high above me, and as + bright as you are. God bless her! and to think I never even said + good-night to her! I stood there like a mummy.” And David reproached + himself for his unkindness. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, on entering the drawing-room, was surprised to find it blazing with + candles, but she was more surprised at what she saw seated calmly in an + armchair—Mrs. Bazalgette. Lucy stood transfixed; the audacious + intruder laughed at her astonishment; the next moment they intertwined, + and fell to kissing one another with tender violence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, love, the fact is, I was passing here on my way home from + Devonshire, and I wanted particularly to speak to you, so I thought I + would venture just to pop in for a passing call, and lo! I find the old + ogre is absent, and not expected back for ever so long, so I have + installed myself at his Font Abbey, partly out of love for you, dear, + partly, I confess it, out of hate to him. You will write and tell me his + face when he comes home and hears I have been living and enjoying myself + in his den. I ordered my imperial into his bedroom. I took it for granted + that would be the only comfortable one in his house.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, turning pale; “oh, aunt, what will become + of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be frightened; the gray-haired monster that dyes his whiskers, and + gets him up to look only sixty, interposed and forbade the consecration.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it. You shall sleep in mine, dear, and I will go into the + east room. It is a sweet little room.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? then why not put me there?” Lucy colored a little. “I think mine + would suit you better, dear, because it is larger and airier, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I see. As you please; you know I never make difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long have you been here, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “About three hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Three hours, and not send for me! I was only in the village. Did no one + tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you know it is not my way to make a fuss and put people out. How + could I tell? You might be agreeably employed, and I was sure of you + before bedtime.” + </p> + <p> + Mighty-fine! but the truth is, she came to Font Abbey to pry. She had + heard a vague report about Lucy and a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + She was very glad to find Lucy was out; it gave her an opportunity. She + sent for Lucy's maid to help her unpack a dress or two—thirteen. + This girl was paid out of Lucy's estate, but did not know that. Mrs. + Bazalgette handed her her wages, and that gives an influence. The wily + matron did not trust to that alone. In unpacking she gave the girl a dress + and several smaller presents, and, this done, slowly and cautiously pumped + her. Jane, to fulfill her share of a bargain, which, though never once + alluded to, was perfectly understood between both the parties, told her + all she knew and all she conjectured; told her, in particular, how + constantly Mr. Talboys was in the house, and how, one night, the old + gentleman had walked part of the way home with him, “which Mr. Thomas says + he didn't think his master would do it for the king, mum!” and had come in + all of a flurry, and sent up for miss, and swore* awful when she couldn't + come because she was abed. “So you may depend, mum, it is so; leastways, + the gentlemen they are willing. We talk it over mostly every day in the + servants' hall, mum, and we are all of a mind so fur; but whether it will + come to a wedding, that we haven't a settled yet. It's miss beats us; she + is like no other young lady ever I came anigh. A man or woman—it is + all the same to her—a kind word for everybody, and pass on. But I do + really think she likes her own side of the house a trifle the best.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *The ladies of the bedchamber will embellish. After all, it + is their business. +</pre> + <p> + “And there you don't agree with her, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mum—being as we are alone—now is it natural? But Mr. + Thomas he says, 'The cold ones take the first offer that comes when there + is money ahind it. It isn't us they wants,' says he. I told him I should + think not the likes of him—'but our house and land,' says he, 'and + hopera box and cetera.' 'But I don't think that of our one,' says I; + 'bless you, she is too high-minded.' But what I think, mum, is, she + wouldn't say 'no' to her uncle; her mouth don't seem made for saying no, + especially to him; and he is bent on Talboys, mum, you take my word.” + </p> + <p> + To return to the drawing-room: Mrs. Bazalgette, after the above delicate + discussion, sat there in ambush, knowing more of Lucy's affairs than Lucy + knew. Her next point was to learn Lucy's sentiments, and to find whether + she was deliberately playing false and breaking her promise, vide. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy, any lovers yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Lucy, a little bird whispers in my ear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is a humming-bird,” and Lucy pouted. “Now, aunt, did you really + come to Font Abbey to tease me about such nonsense as—as—gentlemen?” + and Lucy looked hurt. + </p> + <p> + “Here's an actress for you,” thought Mrs. Bazalgette; but she calmly + dropped the subject, and never recurred to it openly all the evening, but + lay secretly in watch, and put many subtle but seeming innocent questions + to her niece about her habits, her uncle's guest, whether her uncle kept a + horse for her, whether he bought it for her, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Mrs. Bazalgette breakfasted in bed, during which process + she rang her bell seven times. Lucy received at the breakfast-table a + letter from her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR NIECE—The funeral was yesterday, and, I flatter myself, + well performed: there were five-and-twenty carriages. After that a + luncheon, in the right style, and then to the reading of the will. And + here I shall surprise you, but not more than I was myself: I am left 5,000 + pounds consols. My worthy friend, whose loss we are called on so suddenly + to deplore, accompanied this bequest in his will with many friendly + expressions of esteem, which I have always studied and shall study to + deserve. He bequeathed to me also, during minority, the care of his boy, + the heir to this fine property, which far exceeds the value I had + imagined. There is a letter attached to the will; in compliance with it + Arthur is to go to Cambridge, but not until he has been well prepared. He + will therefore accompany me to Font Abbey to-morrow, and I must contrive + somehow or other to find him a mathematical tutor in the neighborhood. + There is a handsome allowance made out of the estate for his board, etc., + etc. + </p> + <p> + “He is an interesting boy, and has none of the rudeness and + mischievousness they generally have—blue eyes, soft, silky, flaxen + hair, and as modest as a girl. His orphaned state merits kindness, and his + prospects entitle him to consideration. I mention this because I fancy, + when we last discussed this matter, I saw a little disposition on your + part to be satirical at the poor boy's expense. I am sure, however, that + you will restrain this feeling at my request, and treat him like a younger + brother. I only wish he was three or four years older—you understand + me, miss. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow afternoon, then, we shall be at Font Abbey. Let him have the + east room, and tell Brown to light a blazing fire in my bedroom. and warm + and air every mortal thing, on pain of death. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your affectionate uncle, + + “JOHN FOUNTAIN.” + </pre> + <p> + On reading this letter Lucy formed an innocent scheme. It had long been + matter of regret to her that Aunt Bazalgette could not see the good + qualities of Uncle Fountain, and Uncle Fountain of Aunt Bazalgette. “It + must be mere prejudice,” said she, “or why do I love them both?” She had + often wished she could bring them together, and make them know one another + better; they would find out one another's good qualities then, and be + friends. But how? As Shakespeare says, “Oxen and wain-ropes would not haul + them, together.” + </p> + <p> + At last chance aided her—Mrs. Bazalgette was at Font Abbey actually. + Lucy knew that if she announced Mr. Fountain's expected return the B would + fly off that minute, so she suppressed the information, and, giving up to + young Arthur as she had to Mrs. B., moved into a still smaller room than + the east room. + </p> + <p> + And now her heart quaked a little. “But, after all, Uncle Fountain is a + gentleman,” thought she, “and not capable of showing hostility to her + under his own roof. Here she is safe, though nowhere else; only I must see + him, and explain to him before he sees her.” With this view Lucy declined + demurely her aunt's proposal for a walk. No, she must be excused; she had + work to do in the drawing-room that could not be postponed. + </p> + <p> + “Work! that alters the case. Let me see it.” She took for granted it was + some useful work—something that could be worn when done. “What! is + this it—these dirty parchments? Oh! I see; it is for that selfish + old man; who but he would set a lady to parchments!” + </p> + <p> + “A bad guess,” cried Lucy, joyously. “I found them myself, and set myself + to work on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me! He is at the bottom of it. If it was for yourself you + would give it up directly. How amusing for me to see you work at that!” + Lucy rose and brought her the new novel. Mrs. Bazalgette took it and sat + down to it, but she could not fix her attention long on it. Ladies whose + hearts are in dress have no taste for books, however frivolous; can't sit + them for above a second or two. Mrs. Bazalgette fidgeted and fidgeted, and + at last rose and left the room, book in hand. “How unkind I am!” said Lucy + to herself. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting sentinel till the carriage should arrive; then she could + run down and prepare her uncle for his innocent and accidental visitor. It + would not be prudent to let him receive the information from a servant, or + without the accompanying explanation. This it was that made her so + unnaturally firm when the little idle B pressed her to waste in play the + shining hours. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette went book in hand to her bedroom, and had not been there + long before she found employment. Many of Lucy's things were still in the + wardrobes. Mrs. B. rummaged them, inspected them at the window, and ended + by ringing for her maid and trying divers of her niece's dresses on. “They + make her dresses better than they do mine; they take more pains.” At last + she found one that was new to her, though Lucy had worn it several times + at Font Abbey. + </p> + <p> + “Where did she get this, Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “Present from the old gentleman, mum; he had it down from London for her + all at one time with this shawl and twelve puragloves.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked two inches taller than Mrs. B., but somehow, I can't tell how, + this dress of hers fitted the latter like a glove. It embraced her; it + held her tenderly, but tight, as gowns and lovers should. The poor dear + could not get out of it. “I <i>must</i> wear it an hour or two,” said she. + “Besides, it will save my own, knocking about in these country lanes.” + Thus attired she went into the drawing-room to surprise Lucy. Now Lucy was + determined not to move; so, not to be enticed, she did not even look up + from her work; on this the other took a mild huff and whisked out. + </p> + <p> + So keen are the feminine senses, that Lucy, on reflection, recognized + something brusk, perhaps angry, in the rustle of that retiring dress, and + soon after rang the bell and inquired where Mrs. Bazalgette was. John + would make henquiries. + </p> + <p> + “Your haunt is in the back garden, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Walking, or what?” + </p> + <p> + John would make henquiries. + </p> + <p> + “She is reading, miss; and she is sitting on the seat master 'ad made for + <i>you,</i> miss. + </p> + <p> + “Very well: thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Any more commands, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present.” John retired with a regretful air, as one capable of + executing important commissions, but lost for lack of opportunity. All the + servants in this house liked to come into contact with Lucy. She treated + them with a dignified kindness and reserved politeness that wins these + good creatures more than either arrogance or familiarity. “Jeames is not + such a fool as he looks.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was glad. Her aunt had got her book. It is an interesting story; she + will not miss me now, and the carriage will soon be here, and then I will + make up for my unkindness. Curiously enough, at this very juncture, the + fair student found something in her parchment which gave her some little + hopes of a favorable result. + </p> + <p> + She was following this clue eagerly, when all of a sudden she started. Her + ear had caught the rattle of a carriage over the stones of the stable + yard. She rang the bell, and inquired if that was not the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle has sent it back, then? He is not coming to-day?” + </p> + <p> + John would inquire of the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, miss, master is come, but he got out at the foot of the hill, and + walked up through the shrubbery with the young gentleman to show him the + grounds.” On this news Lucy rose hastily, snatched up a garden hat, and, + without any other preparation, went out to intercept her uncle. As she + stepped into the garden she heard a loud scream, followed by angry voices; + she threw her hands up to heaven in dismay and ran toward the sounds. They + came from the back garden. She went like lightning round the corner of the + house, and came plump upon an agitated group, of whom she made one + directly, spellbound. Here stood Aunt Bazalgette, her head turned + haughtily, her cheeks scarlet. There stood Mr. Fountain on the other side + of the rustic seat, red as fire, too, but wearing a hang-dog look, and + behind him young Arthur, pale, with two eyes like saucers, gazing + awestruck at the first row he had ever seen between a full-grown lady and + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Our narrative must take a step to the rear, as an excellent writer, + Private ——* phrases it, otherwise you might be misled to + suppose that Uncle Fountain was quarreling with Mrs. B. for having set her + foot in sacred Font Abbey. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “I had an escape myself. As I opened the door of a house, a + black fellow was behind waiting for me, and made a chop. I + took a step to the rear, fired through the door, and cooked + his goose.”—<i>Times.</i> +</pre> + <p> + No, the pudding was richer than that. Mr. Fountain had young Arthur in + charge, and, not being an ill-natured old gentleman, he pitied the boy, + and did all he could to make him feel he was coming among friends. He sent + the carriage on, and showed Arthur the grounds, and covertly praised the + place and all about it, Lucy included, for was not she an appendage of his + abbey. “You will see my niece—a charming young lady, who will be + kind to you, and you must make friends with her. She is very accomplished—paints. + She plays like an angel, too. Ah! there she is. She has got the gown on I + gave her—a compliment to me—a very pretty attention, Arthur, + the day of my return. What is she doing?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur, with his young eyes, settled this question. “The lady is asleep. + See, she has dropped her book.” And; in fact, the whole attitude was lax + and not ungraceful. Her right hand hung down, and the domestic story, its + duty done, reposed beneath. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Arthur,” said the senior, making himself young to please the boy, + and to show him that, if he looked old, he was not worn out, “would you + like a bit of fun? We will startle her—we'll give her a kiss.” + Arthur hung back irresolute, and his cheeks were dyed with blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Not you, you young rogue; you are not her uncle.” The old gentleman then + stole up at the back of the seat, followed with respectful curiosity by + Arthur. She happened to move as the senior got near; so, for fear she was + going to wake of herself and baffle the surprise, he made a rush and + rubbed his beard a little roughly against Mrs. Bazalgette's cheek. Up + starts that lady, who was not fast asleep, but only under the influence of + the domestic tale, utters a scream, and, when she sees her ravisher, goes + into a passion. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you? What is the meaning of this insult?” + </p> + <p> + “How came you here?” was the reply, in an equally angry tone. + </p> + <p> + “Can't a lady come into your little misery of a garden without being + outraged?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't the garden—it is only the back garden,” cried the + proprietor of Font Hill; <i>“(blesse)</i> I'll swear that is my niece's + gown; so you've invaded that, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Bazalgette—Uncle Fountain, it was my fault,” sighed a piteous + voice. This was Lucy, who had just come on the scene. “Dear uncle, forgive + me; it was I who invited her.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's pathetic tones, which were fast degenerating into sobs, were + agreeably interrupted. + </p> + <p> + At one and the same moment the man and woman of the world took a new view + of the situation, looked at one another, and burst out laughing. Both + these carried a safety-valve against choler—a trait that takes us + into many follies, but keeps us out of others—a sense of humor. The + next thing to relieve the situation was the senior's comprehensive vanity. + He must recover young Arthur's reverence, which was doubtless dissolving + all this time. “Now, Arthur,” he whispered, “take a lesson from a + gentleman of the old school. I hate this she-devil; but this is at my + house, so—observe.” He then strutted jauntily and feebly up to Mrs. + Bazalgette: “Madam, my niece says you are her guest; but permit me to + dispute her title to that honor.” Mrs. Bazalgette smiled agreeably. She + wanted to stay a day or two at Font Abbey. The senior flourished out his + arm. “Let me show you what <i>we</i> call the garden here.” She took his + arm graciously. “I shall be delighted, sir [pompous old fool!].” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette steeled her mind to admire the garden, and would have done + so with ease if it had been hideous. But, unfortunately, it was pretty—prettier + than her own; had grassy slopes, a fountain, a grotto, variegated beds, + and beds a blaze of one color (a fashion not common at that time); item, a + brook with waterlilies on its bosom. “This brook is not mine, strictly + speaking,” said her host; “I borrowed it of my neighbor.” The lady opened + her eyes; so he grinned and revealed a characteristic transaction. A + quarter of a century ago he had found the brook flowing through a meadow + close to his garden hedge. He applied for a lease of the meadow, and was + refused by the proprietor in the following terms: “What is to become of my + cows?” + </p> + <p> + He applied constantly for ten years, and met the same answer. Proprietor + died, the cows turned to ox-beef, and were eaten in London along with + flour and a little turmeric, and washed down with Spanish licorice-water, + salt, gentian and a little burned malt. Widow inherited, made hay, and + refused F. the meadow because her husband had always refused him. But in + the tenth year of her siege she assented, for the following reasons: <i>primo,</i> + she had said “no” so often the word gave her a sense of fatigue; <i>secundo,</i> + she liked variety, and thought a change for the worse must be better than + no change at all. + </p> + <p> + Her tenant instantly cut a channel from the upper part of the stream into + his garden, and brought the brook into the lawn, made it write an S upon + his turf, then handed it but again upon the meadow “none the worse,” his + own comment. These things could be done in the country—<i>jadis.</i> + </p> + <p> + It cost Mrs. Bazalgette a struggle to admire the garden and borrowed + stream—they were so pretty. She made the struggle and praised all. + Lucy, walking behind the pair, watched them with innocent satisfaction. + “How fast they are making friends,” thought she, mistaking an armistice + for an alliance. + </p> + <p> + “Since the place is so fortunate as to please you, you will stay a week + with me, madam, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “A week! No, Mr. Fountain; I really admire your courtesy too much to abuse + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; you will oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot bring myself to think so.” + </p> + <p> + “You may believe me. I have a selfish motive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you are in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will explain. If you are my guest for a week, that will give me a claim + to be yours in turn.” And he bent a keen look upon the lady, as much as to + say, “Now I shall see whether you dare let me spy on you as you are doing + on me.” + </p> + <p> + “I propose an amendment,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, with a merry air of + defiance: “for every day I enjoy here you must spend two beneath my roof. + On this condition, I will stay a week at Font Abbey.” + </p> + <p> + “I consent,” said Mr. Fountain, a little sharply. He liked the bargain. “I + must leave you to Lucy for a minute; I have some orders to give. I like <i>my</i> + guests to be comfortable.” With this he retired to his study and pondered. + “What is she here for? it is not affection for Lucy; that is all my eye, a + selfish toad like her. (How agreeable she can make herself, though.) She + heard I was out, and came here to spy directly. That was sharp practice. + Better not give her a chance of seeing my game. I disarmed her suspicion + by asking her to stay a week, aha! Well, during that week Talboys must not + come, that is all; aha! my lady, I won't give those cunning eyes of yours + a chance of looking over my hand.” He then wrote a note to Talboys, + telling him there was a guest at Font Abbey, a disagreeable woman, “who + makes mischief whenever she can. She would be sure to divine our + intentions, and use all her influence with Lucy to spite me. You had + better stay away till she is gone.” He sent this off by a servant, then + pondered again. + </p> + <p> + “She suspects something; then that is a sign she has her own designs on + Lucy. Hum! no. If she had, she would not have invited me to her house. She + invited me directly and cheerfully—!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette walked and sat with an arm round Lucy's waist, and told + her seven times before dinner how happy she was at the prospect of a quiet + week with her. In the evening she yawned eleven times. Next day she asked + Lucy who was coming to dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would perhaps not care to have our tete-a-tete interrupted + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I should like to explore the natives too.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give uncle a hint, dear.” The hint was given very delicately, but + the malicious senior had a perverse construction ready immediately. + </p> + <p> + “So this is her mighty affection for you. Can't get through two days + without strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” said Lucy, imploringly, “she is so used to society, and she has + me all day; we ought to give her some little amusement at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't make up parties now; my friends are all in London. She only + wants something to flirt with. Send for David Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “What, for her to flirt with?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he is a handsome fellow; he will serve her turn.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame, uncle; what would Mr. Bazalgette say? Poor aunt, she is a + coquette now.” + </p> + <p> + “And has been this twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I was thinking—Mr. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + “Talboys is not at home; she must be content with lower game. She shall + bring down David.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy hesitated. “I don't think she will like Mr. Dodd, and I am sure he + will not like her.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “He is so honest. He will not understand a woman of the world and her + little in—sin—No, I don't mean that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he does not understand her he may like her.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, he has made me ask the Dodds to tea, and I am afraid you will not + like them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I don't we must try some more natives to-morrow. Who are they?” + Lucy told her. “Pretty people to ask to meet me,” said she, loftily. This + scorn dissolved in course of the evening. Lucy, anxious her guests should + be pleased with one another, drew the Dodds out, especially David—made + him spin a yarn. With this and his good looks he so pleased Mrs. + Bazalgette that it was the last yarn he ever span during her stay. She + took a fancy to him, and set herself to captivate him with sprightly + ardor. + </p> + <p> + David received her advances politely, but a little coldly. The lady was + very agreeable, but she kept him from Lucy; he hardly got three words with + her all the evening. As they went home together, Eve sneered: “Well, you + managed nicely; it was your business to make friends with that lady.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't you do what she bid you?” + </p> + <p> + “She gave me no orders that I heard,” said the literal first mate. + </p> + <p> + “She gave you a plain hint, though.” + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” + </p> + <p> + “To do what? stupid! Why, to make love to her, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she is a married woman?” + </p> + <p> + “If she chooses to forget that, is it your business to remember it?” + </p> + <p> + “And if she was single, and the loveliest in the world, how could I court + her when my heart is full of an angel?” + </p> + <p> + “If your heart is full, your head is empty. Why, you see nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see why I should belie my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you? Then I can. David, in less than a month Miss Fountain goes to + this lady and stays a quarter of a year: she told me so herself. Oh, my + ears are always open in your service ever since I did agree to be as great + a fool as you are. Now don't you see that if you can't get Mrs. Bazalgette + to invite you to her house, you must take leave of the other here + forever?” + </p> + <p> + “I see what you mean, Eve; how wise you are! It is wonderful. But what is + to be done? I am bad at feigning. I can't make love to her.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can let her make love to you: is that an effort you feel equal + to? and I must do the rest. Oh, we have a nice undertaking before us. But, + if boys will cry for fruit that is out of their reach, and their silly + sisters will indulge them—don't slobber <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “You are such a dear girl to fight for me so a little against your + judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “A little, eh? Dead against it, you mean. Don't look so blank, David; you + are all right as far as me. When my heart is on your side you can snap + your fingers at my judgment.” + </p> + <p> + David was cheered by this gracious revelation. + </p> + <p> + Eve was a tormenting little imp. She could not help reminding him every + now and then that all her maneuvers and all his love were to end in + disappointment. These discouraging comments had dashed poor David's + spirits more than once; but he was beginning to discover that they were + invariably accompanied or followed by an access of cheerful zeal in the + desperate cause—a pleasing phenomenon, though somewhat + unintelligible to this honest fellow, who had never microscoped the + enigmatical sex. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette reproached Lucy: “You never told me how handsome Mr. Dodd + was.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I? + </p> + <p> + “No. He is the handsomest man I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not observed that, but I think he is one of the worthiest.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder,” said the other lady, carelessly. “It is clear you + don't appreciate him here. You half apologized to me for inviting him.” + </p> + <p> + “That was because you are such a fashionable lady, and the Dodds have no + such pretensions.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better; my taste is not for sophisticated people. I only put up + with them because I am obliged. Why, Lucy, you ought to know how my heart + yearns for nature and truth; I am sure I have told you so often enough. An + hour spent with a simple, natural creature like Captain Dodd refreshes me + as a cooling breeze after the heat and odors of a crowded room.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dodd is very natural too—is she not?” + </p> + <p> + “Very. Pertness and vulgarity are natural enough—to some people.” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle likes her the best of the two.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your uncle is mad. But the fact is, men are no judges in such cases; + they are always unjust to their own sex, and as blind to the faults of + ours as beetles.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, aunt, she is very arch and lively.” + </p> + <p> + “Pert and fussy, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty, at all events? Rather?” + </p> + <p> + “What, with that snub nose!!?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy offered to invite other neighbors; Mrs. Bazalgette replied she didn't + want to be bothered with rurality. “You can ask Captain Dodd, if you like; + there is no need to invite the sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I must; my uncle likes her the best.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>I</i> don't; and I am only here for a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dodd would be hurt. It would be unkind—discourteous.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. She watches him all the time like a little dragon.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Apres?</i> We have no sinister designs on Mr. Dodd, have we?” and + something unusually keen flashed upon Aunt Bazalgette out of the tail of + the quiet Lucy's eye. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette looked cross. “Nonsense, Lucy; so tiresome! Can't we have + an agreeable person without tacking on a disagreeable one?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt,” said Lucy, pathetically, “ask me anything else in the world, but + don't ask me to be rude, for <i>I can't.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you are bound to entertain her, since she is your choice, and + leave me mine.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy acquiesced softly. + </p> + <p> + David, tutored by his sister, now tried to seem interested in her who came + between him and Lucy, and a miserable hand he made of this his first piece + of acting. Luckily for him, Mrs. Bazalgette liked the sound of her own + voice; and his good looks, too, went a long way with the mature woman. + Lucy and Eve sat together at the tea-table; Mr. Fountain slumbered below; + Arthur was in the study, nailed to a novel; Eve, under a careless + exterior, watched intently to find out if Lucy, under a calm surface, + cared for David at all or not, and also watched for a chance to serve him. + She observed a certain languor about the young lady, but no attempt to + take David from the coquette. At last, however, Lucy did say demurely, + “Mr. Dodd seems to appreciate my aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think it is rather the other way?” + </p> + <p> + “That is an insidious question, Miss Dodd. I shall make no admissions; but + I warn you she is a very fascinating woman.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother is greatly admired by the ladies, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, since I praised my champion, you have a right to praise yours. But he + will get the worst in that little encounter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? + </p> + <p> + “Because my sprightly aunt forgets the very names of her conquests when + once she has thoroughly made them.” + </p> + <p> + “She will never make this one; my brother carries an armor against + coquettes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, indeed; and pray what may that be?” inquired Lucy, a little + quizzingly. + </p> + <p> + “A true and deep attachment.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you will look at him a little closer you will see that he would be + glad to get away from that old flirt; but David is very polite to ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy stole a look from under her silken lashes, and it so happened that at + that very moment she encountered a sorrowful glance from David that said + plainly enough, I am obliged to be here, but I long to be there. She + received his glance full in her eyes, absorbed it blandly, then lowered + her lashes a moment, then turned her head with a sweet smile toward Eve. + “I think you said your brother was engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I misunderstood you, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Eve uttered this monosyllable so dryly that Lucy drew back, and + immediately turned the conversation into chit-chat. + </p> + <p> + It had not trickled above ten minutes when an exclamation from David + interrupted it. The young ladies turned instinctively, and there was David + flushing all over, and speaking to Mrs. Bazalgette with a tremulous + warmth, that, addressed as it was to a pretty woman, sounded marvelously + like love-making. + </p> + <p> + Lucy turned her crest round a little haughtily, and shot such a glance on + Eve. Eve read in it a compound of triumph and pique. + </p> + <p> + David came to Eve one morning with parchments in his hand and a merry + smile. “Eureka!” + </p> + <p> + “You're another,” said Eve, as quick as lightning, and upon speculation. + </p> + <p> + “I have made Mr. Fountain's pedigree out,” explained David. + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so! won't he be pleased?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Do you think <i>she</i> will be pleased?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? She will look pleased, anyway. I say, don't you go and tell them + the whole county was owned by the Dodds before Fountain, or Funteyn, or + Font, was ever heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly. I have my own weaknesses, my lass; I've no need to adopt another + man's.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul, how wise you are got! So sudden, too! You shouldn't + surprise a body like that. Lucky I'm not hysterical. Now let me think, + David—Solomon, I mean—no, you shall keep this discovery back + awhile; it may be wanted.” She then reminded him that the Fountains were + capricious; that they had dropped him for a week, and eight again; if so, + this might be useful to unlock their street door to him at need. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Eve, what cunning!” + </p> + <p> + “David, when I have a bad cause in hand, I do one of two things: I drop + it, or I go into it heart and soul. If my zeal offends you, I can retire + from the contest with great pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no! no! no! no! If you leave the helm I shall go ashore directly”—dismay + of David; grim satisfaction of his imp. + </p> + <p> + This matter settled, David asked Eve if she did not think Master Nelson + (Mr. Fountain's new ward) was a very nice boy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I see he has taken a wonderful fancy to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And so have I to him; we have had one or two walks together. He is to + come here at twelve o'clock to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Now why couldn't you have asked me first, David? The painters are coming + into the house to-day; and the paperers, and all, and we can't be bothered + with mathematics. You must do them at Font Abbey.” Eve was a little cross. + David only laughed at her; but he hesitated about making a school-house of + Font Abbey—it would look like intruding. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! nonsense,” said Eve; “they will only be too glad to take advantage + of your good-nature.” + </p> + <p> + “He is an orphan,” said David, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + However, the lesson was given at Font Abbey, and after it Master Nelson + came bounding into the drawing-room to the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lucy, Mr. Dodd is such a beautiful geometrician! He has been giving + me a lesson; he is going to give me one every day. He knows a great deal + more than my last tutor.” On this Master Nelson was questioned, and + revealed that a friendship existed between him and Mr. Dodd such as girls + are incapable of (this was leveled at Lucy); being cross-examined as to + the date of this friendship, he was obliged to confess that it had only + existed four days, but was to last to death. + </p> + <p> + “But, Arthur,” said Lucy, “will not this take up too much of Mr. Dodd's + time? I think you had better consult Uncle Fountain before you make a + positive arrangement of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have spoken to my guardian about it, and he was <i>so</i> pleased. + He said that would save him a mathematical tutor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “Mr. Dodd is to teach mathematics + gratis.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend is a gentleman,” was the timid reply. (Juveniles have a + pomposity all their own, and exquisitely delicious.*) “We read together + because we like one another, and that is why we walk together and play + together; if we were to offer him money he would throw it at our heads.” + Mr. Arthur then relaxed his severity, and, condescending once more to the + familiar, added: “And he has made me a kite on mathematical principles—such + a whacker—those in the shops are no use; and he has sent his + mother's Bath chair on to the downs, and he is going to show me the kite + draw him ten knots an hour in it—a knot means a mile, Lucy—so + I can't stay wasting my time here; only, if you want to see some fun for + once in your lives, come on the downs in about an hour—will you? Oh + yes! do come!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Read the Oxford Essays. +</pre> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse us, dear,” said Lucy in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “am I wrong about your uncle's + selfishness! I have tried in vain ever since I came here to make you see + it where <i>you</i> were the only sufferer.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite in vain, aunt,” said Lucy sadly; “you have shown me defects in + my poor uncle that I should never have discovered.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Only, as you hate him, and I love him, and always mean to love him, + permit me to call his defects 'thought-lessness.' <i>You</i> can apply the + harsh term 'selfish-ness' to the most good-natured, kind, indulgent—oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! Don't cry, you silly girl. Thoughtless? a calculating old goose, + who is eternally aiming to be a fox—never says or does anything + without meaning something a mile off. Luckily, his veil is so thin that + everybody sees through it but you. What do you think of his <i>thought-less-ness</i> + in getting a tutor gratis? Poor Mr. Dodd!” + </p> + <p> + “I will answer for it, it is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd to be of service to + his little friend,” said Lucy, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know a bore is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd is a new acquaintance of yours, aunt, but I have had + opportunities of observing his character, and I assure you all this pity + is wasted.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Lucy, what did you say to Arthur just now. You are contradicting <i>yourself.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “What a love of opposition I must have. Are you not tired of in-doors? + Shall we go into the village?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I exhausted the village yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “The garden?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, suppose we sketch the church together. There is a good + light.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Let us go on the downs, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, aunt, it—it is a long walk.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better.” + </p> + <p> + “But we said 'No.'” + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur was right; the kites that are sold by shops of prey are not + proportioned nor balanced; this is probably in some way connected with the + circumstance that they are made to sell, not fly. The monster kite, + constructed by the light of Euclid, rose steadily into the air like a + balloon, and eventually, being attached to the chair, drew Mr. Arthur at a + reasonable pace about half a mile over a narrow but level piece of turf + that was on the top of the downs. Q.E.D. This done, these two patient + creatures had to wind the struggling monster in, and go back again to the + starting point. Before they had quite achieved this, two petticoats + mounted the hill and moved toward them across the plateau. At sight of + them David thrilled from head to foot, and Arthur cried, “Oh, bother!” an + unjust ejaculation, since it was by his invitation they came. His alarms + were verified. The ladies made themselves No. 1 directly, and the poor + kite became a shield for flirtation. Arthur was so cross. + </p> + <p> + At last the B's desire to occupy attention brought her to the verge of + trouble. Seeing David saying a word to Lucy, she got into the chair, and + went gayly off, drawn by the kite, which Arthur, with a mighty struggle, + succeeded in hooking to the car for her. Now, the plateau was narrow, and + the chair wanted guiding. It was easy to guide it, but Mrs. Bazalgette did + not know how; so it sidled in a pertinacious and horrid way toward a long + and steepish slope on the left side. She began to scream, Arthur to laugh—the + young are cruel, and, I am afraid, though he stood perfectly neutral to + all appearance, his heart within nourished black designs. But David came + flying up at her screams—just in time. He caught the lady's + shoulders as she glided over the brow of the slope, and lifted her by his + great strength up out of the chair, which went the next moment bounding + and jumping athwart the hill, and soon rolled over and groveled in rather + an ugly way. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette sobbed and cried so prettily on David's shoulder, and had + to be petted and soothed by all hands. Inward composure soon returned, + though not outward, and in due course histrionics commenced. First the + sprain business. None of you do it better, ladies, whatever you may think. + David had to carry her a bit. But she was too wise to be a bore. Next, the + heroic business: <i>would</i> be put down, <i>would</i> walk, possible or + not; <i>would</i> not be a trouble to her kind friends. Then the martyr + smiling through pain. David was very attentive to her; for while he was + carrying her in his arms she had won his affection, all he could spare + from Lucy. Which of you can tell all the consequences if you go and carry + a pretty woman, with her little insinuating mouth close to your ears? + </p> + <p> + Lucy and Arthur walked behind. Arthur sighed. Lucy was <i>reveuse.</i> + Arthur broke silence first. “Lucy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “When is she going?” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur, for shame! I won't tell you. To-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said Arthur, with a depth of feeling, “she spoils everything!!!” + </p> + <p> + Next morning —— <i>come back?</i> What for? <i>I will have the + goodness to tell you what she said in his ear?</i> Why, nothing. + </p> + <p> + <i>You are a female reader?</i> Oh! that alters the case. To attempt to + deceive you would be cowardly, immoral; it would fail. She sighed, “My + preserver!” at which David had much ado not to laugh in her face. Then she + murmured still more softly, “You must come and see me at my home before + you sail—will you not? I insist” (in the tone of a supplicant), + “come, promise me.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will—with pleasure,” said David, flushing. + </p> + <p> + “Mind, it is a promise. Put me down. Lucy, come here and make him put me + down. I <i>will not</i> be a burden to my friends.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + THAT same evening, Mrs. Bazalgette, being alone with Lucy in the + drawing-room, put her arm round that young lady's waist, and lovingly, not + seriously, as a man might have been apt to do, reminded her of her + honorable promise—not to be caught in the net of matrimony at Font + Abbey. Lucy answered, without embarrassment, that she claimed no merit for + keeping her word. No one had had the ill taste to invite her to break it. + </p> + <p> + “You are either very sly or very blind,” replied Mrs. Bazalgette, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt!” said Lucy, piteously. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette, who, by many a subtle question and observation during the + last week, had satisfied herself of Lucy's innocence, now set to work and + laid Uncle Fountain bare. + </p> + <p> + “I do not speak in a hurry, Lucy; a hint came round to me a fortnight ago + that you had an admirer here, and it turns out to be this Mr. Talboys.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Does that surprise you? Do you think a young gentleman would come to + Font Abbey three nights in a week without a motive?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy reflected. + </p> + <p> + “It is all over the place that you two are engaged.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored, and her eyes flashed with something very like anger, but she + held her peace. + </p> + <p> + “Ask Jane else.” + </p> + <p> + “What! take my servant into my confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is a way of setting that sort of people chattering without + seeming to take any notice. To tell the truth, I have done it for you. It + is all over the village, and all over the house.” + </p> + <p> + “The proper person to ask must have been Uncle Fountain himself.” + </p> + <p> + “As if he would have told me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a gentleman, aunt, and would not have uttered a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctrine of chivalry! He would have uttered half a dozen in one minute. + Besides, why should I question a person I can read without. Your uncle, + with his babyish cunning that everybody sees through, has given me the + only proof I wanted. He has not had Mr. Talboys here once since I came.” + </p> + <p> + “Cunning little aunt! Mr. Talboys happens not to be at home; uncle told me + so himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple little niece, uncle told you a fib; Mr. Talboys is at home. And + observe! until I came to Font Abbey, he was here three times a week. You + admit that. I come; your uncle knows I am not so unobservant as you, and + Mr. Talboys is kept out of sight.” + </p> + <p> + “The proof that my uncle has deceived me,” said Lucy, coldly, and with + lofty incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Read that note from Miss Dodd!” + </p> + <p> + “What! you in correspondence with Miss Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, she has thrust herself into correspondence with me—just + like her assurance.” + </p> + <p> + The letter ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MADAM—My brother requests me to say that, in compliance with + your request, he called at the lodge of Talboys Park, and the people + informed him Mr. Talboys had not left Talboys Park at all since Easter. I + remain yours, etc.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was dumfounded. + </p> + <p> + “I suspected something, Lucy, so I asked Mr. Dodd to inquire.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a singular commission to send him on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he takes long walks—cruises, he calls them—and he is so + good-natured. Well, what do you think of your uncle's veracity now?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was troubled and distressed, but she mastered her countenance: “I + think he has sacrificed it for once to his affection for me. I fear you + are right; my eyes are opened to many circumstances. But do—oh, pray + do!—see his goodness in all this.” + </p> + <p> + “The goodness of a story-teller.” + </p> + <p> + “He admires Mr. Talboys—he reveres him. No doubt he wished to secure + his poor niece what he thinks a great match, and now you assign ill + motives to him. Yes, I confess he has deviated from truth. Cruel! cruel! + what can you give me in exchange if you rob me of my esteem for those I + love!” + </p> + <p> + This innocent distress, with its cause, were too deep for a lady whose + bright little intelligence leaned toward cunning rather than wisdom. In + spite of her niece's trouble, and the brimming eyes that implored + forbearance, she drove the sting, merrily in again and again, till at last + Lucy, who was not defending herself, but an absent friend, turned a little + suddenly on her and said: + </p> + <p> + “And do you think he says nothing against you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is a backbiter, too, is he? I didn't know he had that vice. Ah! + and, pray, what can he find to say against me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, people that hate one another can always find something ill-natured to + say,” retorted Lucy, with a world of meaning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette turned red, and her little nose went up into the air at an + angle of forty-five. She said, with majestic disdain: “I don't hate the + man—I don't condescend to hate him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't condescend to backbite him, dear.” + </p> + <p> + This home-thrust, coming from such a quarter, took away my Lady Disdain's + very breath. She sat transfixed; then, upon reflection, got up a tear, and + had to be petted. + </p> + <p> + This sweet lady departed, flinging down her firebrand on those hospitable + boards. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, though she had defended her uncle, was not a little vexed that he + had managed matters so as to get her talked of with Mr. Talboys. Her + natural modesty and reserve prevented her from remonstrating; nor was + there any positive necessity. She was one of those young ladies who seem + born mistresses of the art of self-defense. Deriving the art not from + experience, but from instinct, they are as adroit at seventeen as they are + at twenty-seven; so a last year's bird constructs her first nest as + cunningly as can a veteran feathered architect. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, without a grain of discourtesy or tangible ill-temper, she + quietly froze, and a small family with her, they could not tell how or + why, for they had never even suspected this girl's power. You would have + seemed to them as one that mocketh had you told them they owed their + gayety, their good-humor, their happiness, and their conversational powers + to her. + </p> + <p> + Of these Talboys suffered the most. She brought him to a stand-still by a + very simple process. She no longer patted or spurred him. To vary the + metaphor, a man that has no current must be stirred or stagnate; Lucy's + light hand stirred Talboys no more; Talboys stagnated. Mr. Fountain + suffered next in proportion. He began to find that something was the + matter, but what he had no idea. He did not observe that, though Lucy + answered him as kindly as ever, she did not draw him out as heretofore, + far less that she was vexed with him, and on her guard against him and + everybody, like a <i>maitresse d'armes.</i> No. “The days were drawing in. + The air was heavy; no carbon in it. Wind in the east again!!!” etc. So + subtle is the influence of these silly little creatures upon creation's + lords. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys did not take delicate hints. He continued his visits three + times a week, and the coast was kept clear for him. On this Miss Fountain + proceeded to overt acts of war. She brought a champion on the scene—a + terrible champion—a champion so irresistible that I set any woman + down as a coward who lets him loose upon a sex already so unequal to the + contest as ours. What that champion's real name is I have in vain + endeavored to discover, but he is <i>called</i> “Headache.” When this + terrible ally mingled in the game—on the Talboys nights—dismay + fell upon the wretched males that abode in and visited the once cheerful, + cozy Font Abbey. Messrs. Fountain and Talboys put their heads together in + grave, anxious consultations, and Arthur vented a yell of remonstrance. He + found the lady one afternoon preparing indisposition. She was leaning + languidly back, and the fire was dying out of her eye, and the color out + of her cheek, and the blinds were drawn down. The poor boy burst in upon + this prologue. “Oh, Lucy,” he cried, in piteous, foreboding tones, “don't + go and have a headache to-night. It was so jolly till you took to these <i>stupid</i> + headaches.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry, Arthur,” said Lucy, apologetically, but at bottom she was + inexorable. The disease reached its climax just before dinner. All + remedies failed, and there was nothing for it but to return to her own + room, and read the last new tale of domestic interest—and principle—until + sleep came to her relief. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Arthur shot out with the retiring servants, and interred + himself in the study, where he sought out with care such wild romances as + give entirely false views of life, and found them, “and so shut up in + measureless content.”—Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + The seniors consulted at their ease. They both appreciated the painful + phenomenon, but they differed <i>toto coelo</i> as to the cause. Mr. + Fountain ascribed it to the somber influence of Mrs. Bazalgette, and + miscalled her, till Jane's hair stood on end: she happened to be the one + at the keyhole that night. Mr. Talboys laid all the blame on David Dodd. + The discussion was vigorous, and occupied more than two hours, and each + party brought forward good and plausible reasons; and, if neither made any + progress toward converting the other, they gained this, at least, that + each corroborated himself. Now Mrs. Bazalgette was gone no direct + reprisals on her were possible. Registering a vow that one day or other he + would be even with her, the senior consented, though not very willingly, + to co-operate with his friend against an imaginary danger. In answer to + his remark that the Dodds were never invited to tea now, Mr. Talboys had + replied: “But I find from Mr. Arthur he visits the house every day on the + pretense of teaching him mathematics—a barefaced pretense—a + sailor teach mathematics!” Mr. Fountain had much ado to keep his temper at + this pertinacity in a jealous dream. He gulped his ire down, however, and + said, somewhat sullenly: “I really cannot consent to send my poor friend's + son to the University a dunce, and there is no other mathematician near.” + </p> + <p> + “If I find you one,” said Talboys, hastily, “will you relieve Mr. Dodd of + his labors, and me of his presence?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the other. Poor David! + </p> + <p> + “Then there is my friend Bramby. He is a second wrangler. He shall take + Arthur, and keep him till Miss Fountain leaves us. Bramby will refuse me + nothing. I have a living in my gift, and the incumbent is eighty-eight.” + </p> + <p> + The senior consented with a pitying smile. + </p> + <p> + “Bramby will take him next week,” said Talboys, severely. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain nodded his head. It was all the assent he could effect: and + at that moment there passed through him the sacrilegious thought that the + Conqueror must have imported an ass or two among his other forces, and + that one of these, intermarrying with Saxon blood, had produced a mule, + and that mule was his friend. + </p> + <p> + The same uneasy jealousy, which next week was to expel David from Font + Abbey, impelled Mr. Talboys to call the very next day at one o'clock to + see what was being done under cover of trigonometry. He found Mr. and Miss + Fountain just sitting down to luncheon. David and Arthur were actually + together somewhere, perhaps going through the farce of geometry. He was + half vexed at finding no food for his suspicions. Presently, so spiteful + is chance, the door opened, and in marched Arthur and David. + </p> + <p> + “I have made him stay to luncheon for once,” said Arthur; “he couldn't + refuse me; we are to part so soon.” Arthur got next to Lucy, and had David + on his left. Mr. Talboys gave Mr. Fountain a look, and very soon began to + play his battery upon David. + </p> + <p> + “How do you naval officers find time to learn geometry?” + </p> + <p> + “What? don't you know it is a part of our education, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard that before.” + </p> + <p> + “That is odd; but perhaps you have spent all your life ashore” (this in + commiserating accents). David then politely explained to Mr. Talboys that + a man who looked one day to command a ship must not only practice + seamanship, but learn navigation, and that navigation was a noble art + founded on the exact sciences as well as on practical experiences; that + there did still linger upon the ocean a few of the old captains, who, born + at a period when a ship, in making a voyage, used to run down her + longitude first, and then begin to make her latitude, could handle a ship + well, and keep her off a lee shore <i>if they saw it in time,</i> but + were, in truth, hardly to be trusted to take her from port to port. “We + get a word with these old salts now and then when we are becalmed + alongside, and the questions they put make us quite feel for them. Then + they trust entirely to their instruments. They can take an observation, + but they can't verify one. They can tack her and wear her (I have seen + them do one when they should have done the other), and they can read the + sky and the water better than we young ones; and while she floats they + stick to her, and the greater the danger the louder the oaths—but + that is all.” He then assured them with modest fervor that much more than + that was expected of the modern commander, particularly in the two capital + articles of exact science and gentlemanly behavior. He concluded with + considerable grace by apologizing for his enthusiastic view of a + profession that had been too often confounded with the faults of its + professors—faults that were curable, and that they would all, he + hoped, live long enough to see cured. Then, turning to Miss Fountain, he + said: “And if I began by despising my business, and taking a small view of + it, how should I ever hold sticks with my able competitors, who study it + with zeal and admiration?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “I don't quite understand all you have said, Mr. Dodd, but that last + I think is unanswerable.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain. “I am sure of it. As the Duke of Wellington said the other day + in the House of Lords, 'That is a position I defy any noble lord to + assault with success'—haw! ho!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys averted his attack. “Pray, sir,” said he, with a sneer, “may I + ask, have nautical commanders a particular taste for education as well as + science?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of. If you mean me, I am hungry to learn, and I find few + but what can teach me something, and what little I know I am willing to + impart, sir; give and take.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the direction of your teaching that seems to me so singular. + Mathematics are horrible enough, and greatly to be avoided.” + </p> + <p> + “That is news to me.” + </p> + <p> + “On <i>terra firma,</i> I mean.” + </p> + <p> + At this opening of the case Talboys versus Newton, Arthur shrugged his + shoulders to Lucy and David, and went swiftly out as from the presence of + an idiot. It was abominably rude. But, besides being ill-natured and a + little shallow, Mr. Talboys was drawling out his words, and Arthur was + sixteen—candid epoch, at which affectation in man or woman is + intolerable to us; we get a little hardened to it long before sixty. Mr. + Talboys bit his lip at this boyish impertinence, but he was too proud a + man to notice it otherwise than by quietly incorporating the offender into + his satire. “But the enigma is why you read them with a stripling, of + whose breeding we have just had a specimen—mathematics with a + hob-ba-de-hoy? <i>Grand Dieu!</i> Do pray tell us, Mr. Dodd, why you come + to Font Abbey every day; is it really to teach Master Orson mathematics + and manners?” + </p> + <p> + David did not sink into the earth as he was intended to. + </p> + <p> + “I come to teach him algebra and geometry, what little I know.” + </p> + <p> + “But your motive, Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + David looked puzzled, Lucy uneasy at seeing her guest badgered. + </p> + <p> + “Ask Miss Fountain why she thinks I do my best for Arthur,” said David, + lowering his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Talboys colored and looked at Fountain. + </p> + <p> + “I think it must be out of pure goodness,” said Lucy, sweetly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys ignored her calmly. “Pray enlighten us, Mr. Dodd. Now what is + the real reason you walk a mile every day to do mathematics with that + interesting and well-behaved juvenile?” + </p> + <p> + “You are very curious, sir,” said David, grimly, his ire rising unseen. + </p> + <p> + “I am—on this point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it is—because + he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in every man that + is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. Can ye read the riddle now, ye + lubber?” and David started up haughtily, and, with contempt and wrath on + his face, marched through the open window and joined his little friend on + the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger and Talboys white. + </p> + <p> + The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the + door. + </p> + <p> + “It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door. Provoking cub!” + </p> + <p> + “You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?” + </p> + <p> + “A rival? Nonsense and stuff!!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why was she so agitated? She went out with tears in her eyes: I saw + them.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor girl was frightened, no doubt. We don't have fracases at Font + Abbey. On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace, and + shall reign unruffled while I live. The passions are not admitted here, + sir. Gracious Heaven forbid! I'd as soon see a bonfire in the middle of my + dining-room as Jealousy & Co.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case you had better exclude the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no + handle. I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form.” + </p> + <p> + With this understanding the friends parted. + </p> + <p> + After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy. He + was reading, she working placidly. She looked off her work demurely at him + several times. He was absorbed in a flighty romance. “I have dropped my + worsted, Arthur. It is by you.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his romance, + heart and soul. Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a long + silence, “Your book seems very interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fling it against the wall if it does not mind,” was the infuriated + reply. “Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and can't see, or + won't see, what everybody else can see, that it is an absurd + misunderstanding. One word of common sense would put it all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not put the book down and talk to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't. It won't let me. I must see how long the two fools will go on + not seeing what everybody else sees.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not the number of volumes tell you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Signorina, don't you try to be satirical!” said the sprightly youth; + “you'll only make a mess of it. What is the use dropping one drop of + vinegar into such a great big honey pot?” + </p> + <p> + “You are a saucy boy,” retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation. + </p> + <p> + A long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, dear. I will try and manage with a chair.” + </p> + <p> + “No you won't, now; there.” + </p> + <p> + The victim was caught by the hands. But with fatal instinctive + perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy's supple white hand + disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was intended to. + Lucy gave a little sigh. Here was a dreadful business—obliged to + elicit the information she had resolved should be forced upon her. + </p> + <p> + “By the by, Arthur,” said she, carelessly, “did Mr. Dodd say anything to + you on the lawn?” + </p> + <p> + “What about?” + </p> + <p> + “About what was said after you went out so ru—so suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “No; why? what was said? Something about me? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while. You + must not move your hands, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lucy, that is too bad. It is not fair to excite one's curiosity and + then stop directly.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is nothing. Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all, and + Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions. There, + <i>you</i> are disentangled at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, signorina, let us talk sense. Tell me, which do you like best of all + the gentlemen that come here?” + </p> + <p> + “You, dear; only keep your hands still.” + </p> + <p> + “None of your chaff, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Chaff! what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Flattery, then. I hope it isn't that affected fool Talboys, for I hate + hun.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you actually like him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't dislike him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I pity your taste, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Talboys has many good qualities; and if he was what you describe him, + Uncle Fountain would not prize him as he does.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something in that, Lucy; but I think my guardian and you are mad + upon just that one point. Talboys is a fool and a snob.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur,” said Lucy, severely, “if you speak so of my uncle's friends, you + and I shall quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't quarrel just now, if you can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't I, though? Why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Because your skein is not wound yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you little black-hearted thing!” + </p> + <p> + “I know human nature, miss,” said the urchin, pompously; “I have read Miss + Edgeworth!!!” + </p> + <p> + He then made an appeal to her candor and good sense. “Now don't you see my + friend Mr. Dodd is worth them all put together?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't quite see that.” + </p> + <p> + “He is so noble, so kind, so clever.” + </p> + <p> + “You must own he is a trifle brusk.” + </p> + <p> + “Never. And, if he is, that is not like hurting people's feelings on + purpose, and saying nasty, ill-natured things wrapped up in politeness + that you daren't say out like a man, or you'd get kicked. He is a + gentleman inside; that Talboys is only one outside; but you girls can't + look below the surface.” + </p> + <p> + “We have not read Miss Edgeworth. His hands are not so white as Mr. + Talboys'.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor his liver, either—oh, you goose! Which has the finest eyes? + Why, you don't see such eyes as Mr. Dodd's every day. They are as large as + yours, only his are dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry, dear. You must admit his voice is very loud.” + </p> + <p> + “He can make it loud, but it is always low and gentle whenever he speaks + to you. I have noticed that; so that is monstrous ungrateful of you.” + </p> + <p> + “There, the skein is wound. Arthur!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a great mind to tell you something your friend Mr. Dodd said while + you were out of the room—but no, you shall finish your story first.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; hang the story!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you only say that out of politeness. I have taken you from it so long + already.” + </p> + <p> + The impetuous boy jumped up, seized the volumes, dashed out, and presently + came running back, crying: “There, I have thrown them behind the bookcase + for ever and ever. Now will you tell me what he said?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy smiled triumphantly. She could relish a bloodless victory over an + inanimate rival. Then she said softly, “Arthur, what I am going to tell + you is in confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be torn in pieces before I betray it,” said the young chevalier. + </p> + <p> + Lucy smiled at his extravagance, then began again very gravely: “Mr. + Talboys, who, with many good qualities, has—what shall I say?—narrow + and artificial views compared with your friend—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now you are talking sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why interrupt me, dear?—began teasing him, and wanting to know + the real reason he comes here.” + </p> + <p> + “The real reason? What did the fool mean?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell, Arthur, any more than you? Mr. Dodd evidently thought + that some slur was meant on the purity of his friendship for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shame! shame! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “I saw his anger rising; for Mr. Dodd, though not irritable, is passionate—at + least I think so. I tried to smooth matters. But no; Mr. Talboys persisted + in putting this ungenerous question, when all of a sudden Mr. Dodd burst + out, 'You wish to know why I love Arthur? Because he is an orphan; and + because an orphan finds a brother in every man who is worth the + shoe-leather he stands in. That is all the riddle, you lubber!!' It was + terribly rude; but oh! Arthur, I must tell you your friend looked noble; + he seemed to swell and rise to a giant as he spoke, and we all felt such + little shrimps around him; and his lip trembled, and fire flashed from his + eyes. How you would have admired him then; and he swept out of the room, + and left us for his little friend, who is worthy of it all, since he + stands up for him against us all. Arthur! why, he is crying! poor child! + and do you think those words did not go to <i>my</i> heart as well? I am + an orphan, too. Arthur, don't cry, love! oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + Oh, magic of a word from a great heart! Such a word, uncouth and simple, + but hot from a manly bosom, pierced silk and broadcloth as if they had + been calico and fustian, and made a fashionable young lady and a bold + school-boy take hands and cry together. But such sweet tears dry quickly; + they dry almost as they flow. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” cried the mercurial prince; “a sudden thought strikes me. You + kept running him down a minute ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” said Lucy, with a look of amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know you did. Now tell me what was that for.” + </p> + <p> + “To give you the pleasure of defending him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh. Hum? Lucy, you are not quite so simple as the others think; sometimes + I can't make you out myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? Well, you know what to do, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, read Miss Edgeworth over again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + ARTHUR was bundled off to a private tutor, and the Dodds invited to Font + Abbey no more, and Talboys dined there three days a week. So far, David + Dodd was in a poor and miserable position compared with Talboys, who + visited Lucy at pleasure, and could close the very street door against a + rival, real or imaginary. But the street door is not the door of the + heart, and David had one little advantage over his powerful antagonist; it + was a slender one, and he owed it to a subtle source—female tact. + His sister had long been aware of Talboys. The gossip of the village had + enlightened her as to his visits and supposed pretensions. She had + deliberately withheld this information from her brother, for she said to + herself: “Men always make <i>such</i> fools of themselves when they are + jealous. No. David shan't even know he has got a rival; if he did he would + be wretched and live on thorns, and then he would get into passions, and + either make a fool of himself in her eyes, or do something rash and be + shown to the door.” + </p> + <p> + Thus far Eve, defending her brother. And with this piece of shrewdness she + did a little more for him than she intended or was conscious of; for + Talboys, either by feeble calculation or instinct of petty rivalry, + constantly sneered at David before Lucy; David never mentioned Talboys' + name to her. Now superior ignores, inferior detracts. Thus Talboys lowered + himself and rather elevated David; moreover, he counteracted his own + strongest weapon, the street door. After putting David out of sight, this + judicious rival could not let him fade out of mind too; he found means to + stimulate the lady's memory, and, as far as in him lay, made the absent + present. May all my foes unweave their webs as cleverly! David knew + nothing of this. He saw himself shut out from Paradise, and he was sad. He + felt the loss of Arthur too. The orphan had been medicine to him. When a + man is absorbed in a hopeless passion, to be employed every day in a good + action has a magical soothing influence on the racked heart. Try this + instead of suicide, despairing lover. It is a quack remedy; no M. D. + prescribes it. Never you mind; in desperate ills a little cure is worth a + deal of etiquette. Poor David had lost this innocent comfort—lost, + too, the pleasure of going every day to the house she lived in. To be + sure, when he used to go he seldom caught a glimpse of her, but he did now + and then, and always enjoyed the hope. + </p> + <p> + “I see how it is,” said he to Eve one day; “I am not welcome to the master + of the house. Well, he is the master; I shall not force my way where I am + not welcome”; but after these spirited words he hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense,” said Eve. “It isn't him. There are mischief-makers + behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay? just you tell me who they are. I'll teach them to come across my + hawse”; and David's eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be silly,” said Eve, and turned it off; “and don't be so + downhearted. Why, you are not half a man.” + </p> + <p> + “No more I am, Eve. What has come to me?” + </p> + <p> + “What, indeed? just when everything goes swimmingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, how can you say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, David, she leaves this in a few days for Mrs. Bazalgette's house. + You tell me you have got a warm invitation there. Then make the play + there, and, if you can't win her, say you don't deserve her, twiddle your + thumb, and see a bolder lover carry her off. You foolish boy, she is only + a woman; she is to be won. If you don't mind, some man will show you it + was as easy as you think it is hard. Timid wooers make a mountain of a + mole-hill.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is you who have kept me backing and filling all this time, Eve.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Prudence at first starting, but that isn't to say courage is + never to come in. First creep within the fortification wall; but, once + inside, if you don't storm the city that minute, woe be unto you. Come, + cheer up! it is only for a few days, and then she goes where you will have + her all to yourself; besides, you shall have one sweet delicious evening + with her all alone before she goes. What! have you forgotten the pedigree? + Wasn't I right to keep that back? and now march and take a good long + walk.” + </p> + <p> + Her tongue was a spur. It made David's drooping manhood rear and prance—a + trumpet, and pealed victory to come. David kissed her warmly and strode + away radiant. She looked sadly after him. + </p> + <p> + She had never spoken so hopefully, so encouragingly. The reason will + startle such of my readers as have not taken the trouble to comprehend + her. It was that she had never so thoroughly desponded. Such was Eve. When + matters went smoothly, she itched to torment and take the gloss off David; + but now the affair looked really desperate, so it would have been unkind + not to sustain him with all her soul. The cause of her despondency and + consequent cheerfulness shall now be briefly related. Scarce an hour ago + she had met Miss Fountain in the village and accompanied her home. For + David's sake she had diverted the conversation by easy degrees to the + subject of marriage, in order to sound Miss Fountain. “You would never + give your hand without your heart, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Not even to a coronet?” + </p> + <p> + “Not even to a crown.” + </p> + <p> + So far so good; but Miss Fountain went on to say that the heart was not + the only thing to be consulted in a matter so important as marriage. + </p> + <p> + “It is the only thing I would ever consult,” said Eve. As Lucy did not + reply, Eve asked her next what she would do if she loved a poor man. Lucy + replied coldly that it was not her present intention to love anybody but + her relations; that she should never love any gentleman until she had been + married to him, or, correcting herself, at all events, been some time + engaged to him, and she should certainly never engage herself to anyone + who would not rather improve her position in society than deteriorate it. + Eve met these pretty phrases with a look of contempt, as much as to say, + “While you speak I am putting all that into plain vulgar English.” The + other did not seem to notice it. “To leave this interesting topic for a + while,” said she, languidly, “let me consult you, Miss Dodd. I have not, + as you may have noticed, great abilities, but I have received an excellent + education. To say nothing of those <i>soi-disant</i> accomplishments with + which we adorn and sometimes weary society, my dear mother had me well + grounded in languages and history. Without being eloquent, I have a + certain fluency, in which, they tell me, even members of Parliament are + deficient, smoothly as their speeches read made into English by the + newspapers. Like yourself, Miss Dodd, and all our sex, I am not destitute + of tact, and tact, you know, is 'the talent of talents.' I feel,” here she + bit her lip, “myself fit for public life. I am ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very; and perhaps you will kindly tell me how I had best direct that + ambition. The army? No; marching against daisies, and dancing and flirting + in garrison towns, is frivolous and monotonous too. It isn't as if war was + raging, trumpets ringing, and squadrons charging. Your brother's + profession? Not for the world; I am a coward” [consistent]. “Shall I lower + my pretensions to the learned professions?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt your cleverness, but the learned professions?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman has a tongue, you know, and that is their grand requisite. I + interrupted you, Miss Dodd; pray forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, let us go through them. To be a clergyman, what is required? + To preach, and visit the sick, and feel for them, and understand what + passes in the sorrowful hearts of the afflicted. Is that beyond our sex?” + </p> + <p> + “That last is far more beyond a man at most times; and oh, the discourses + one has to sit out in church!” + </p> + <p> + “Portia made a very passable barrister, Miss Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did she?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know she did; and as for medicine, the great successes there are + achieved by honeyed words, with a long word thrown in here and there. I've + heard my own mamma say so. Now which shall I be?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are making fun of me,” said Eve; “but there is many a true + word spoken in jest. You could be a better, parson, lawyer or doctor than + nine out of ten, but they won't let us. They know we could beat them into + fits at anything but brute strength and wickedness, so they have shut all + those doors in us poor girls' faces.” + </p> + <p> + “There; you see,” said Lucy archly, “but two lines are open to our + honorable ambition, marriage and—water-colors. I think marriage the + more honorable of the two; above all, it is the more fashionable. Can you + blame me, then, if my ambition chooses the altar and not the easel?” + </p> + <p> + “So that is what you have been bringing me to.” + </p> + <p> + “You came of your own accord,” was the sly retort. “Let me offer you some + luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you; I could not eat a morsel just now.” + </p> + <p> + Eve went away, her bright little face visibly cast down. It was not Miss + Fountain's words only, and that new trait of hard satire, which she had so + suddenly produced from her secret recesses. Her very tones were cynical + and worldly to Eve's delicate sense of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor David!” she thought, and when she got to the door of the room + she sighed; and as she went home she said more than once to herself, “No + more heart than a marble statue. Oh, how true our first thought is! I come + back to mine—” + </p> + <p> + Lucy (sola). <i>“Then</i> what right had she to come here and try to turn + me inside out?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + As the hour of Lucy's departure drew near, Mr. Fountain became anxious to + see her betrothed to his friend, for fear of accidents. “You had better + propose to her in form, or authorize me to do so, before she goes to that + Mrs. Bazalgette.” This time it was Talboys that hung back. He objected + that the time was not opportune. “I make no advance,” said he; “on the + contrary, I seem of late to have lost ground with your niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've seen the sort of distance she has put on; all superficial, my + dear sir. I read it in your favor. I know the sex; they can't elude me. + Pique, sir—nothing on earth but female pique. She is bitter against + us for shilly-shallying. These girls hate shilly-shally in a man. They are + monopolists—severe monopolists; shilly-shally is one of their + monopolies. Throw yourself at her feet, and press her with ardor; she will + clear up directly.” The proposed attitude did not tempt the stiff Talboys. + His pride took the alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. It is a position in which I should not care to place myself + unless I was quite sure of not being refused. No, I will not risk my + proposal while she is under the influence of this Dodd; he is, somehow or + other, the cause of her coldness to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! why, she has been hermetically sealed against him ever so + long,” cried Fountain, almost angrily. + </p> + <p> + “I saw his sister come out of your gate only the other day. Sisters are + emissaries—dangerous ones, too. Who knows? her very coldness may be + vexation that this man is excluded. Perhaps she suspects me as the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “These are chimeras—wild chimeras. My niece cares nothing for such + people as the Dodds.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon; these low attachments are the strongest. It is a + notorious fact.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the affability + of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why, there is not a + girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her; and she is too cold + to flirt—-but with a view to matrimonial position. The worst of it + is, that, while you fear an imaginary danger, you are running into a real + one. If we are defeated it will not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs. + Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it, whence does Lucy's coldness date? From + that viper's visit to my house. Rely on it, if we are suffering from any + rival influence, it is that woman's. She is a dangerous woman—she is + a character I detest—she is a schemer.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss + Fountain?” inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the new + lead. + </p> + <p> + “In all probability.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then it is mere surmise.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man who + knows her sex, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views, what + more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to this her + strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has left behind. + And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any positive pledge to you. + Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you do not share it with me, it + must be that you do not care about our alliance.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was hurt. “Not care for the alliance? It was dear to him—all + the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss Fountain—warmly + attached; would do anything for her except run the risk of an affront—a + refusal.” Then followed a long discussion, the result of which was that he + would not propose in form now, but <i>would</i> give proofs of his + attachment such as no lady could mistake; <i>inter alia,</i> he would be + sure to spend the last evening with her, and would ride the first stage + with her next day, squeeze her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And + as for the formal proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr. + Fountain was to pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare + Miss Fountain; then Talboys would suddenly pounce—and pop. The + grandeur and boldness of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased, + Mr. Fountain. + </p> + <p> + “What! under her own roof?” and he could not help rubbing his hands with + glee and spite—“under her own eye, and <i>malgre</i> her personal + influence? Why, you are Nap. I.” + </p> + <p> + “She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there,” said Talboys, + slyly. + </p> + <p> + The senior groaned. (“'Mule I.' I should have said.”) + </p> + <p> + And so they cut and dried it all. + </p> + <p> + The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by special + messenger from Mr. Talboys. “He could not come that evening. His brother + had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven years. He could + not set him to dine alone.” + </p> + <p> + After dinner, in the middle of her uncle's nap, in came Lucy, and, + unheard-of occurrence—deed of dreadful note—woke him. She was + radiant, and held a note from Eve. “Good news, uncle; those good, kind + Dodds! they are coming to tea.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” and he wore a look of consternation. Recollecting, however, that + Talboys was not to be there, he was indifferent again. But when he read + the note he longed for his self-invited visitors. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS FOUNTAIN—David has found out the genealogy. He says there + is no doubt you came from the Fountains of Melton, and he can prove it. He + has proved it to me, and I am none the wiser. So, as David is obliged to + go away to-morrow, I think the best way is for me to bring him over with + the papers to-night. We will come at eight, unless you have company.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a worthy young man,” shouted Mr. Fountain. “What o'clock is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly eight. Oh, uncle, I am so glad. How pleased you will be!” + </p> + <p> + The Dodds arrived soon after, and while tea was going on David spread his + parchments on the table and submitted his proofs. He had eked out the + other evidence by means of a series of leases. The three fields that went + with Font Abbey had been let a great many times, and the landlord's name, + Fountain in the latter leases, was Fontaine in those of remoter date. + David even showed his host the exact date at which the change of + orthography took place. “You are a shrewd young gentleman,” cried Mr. + Fountain, gleefully. + </p> + <p> + David then asked him what were the names of his three meadows. The names + of them? He didn't know they had any. + </p> + <p> + “No names? Why, there isn't a field in England that hasn't its own name, + sir. I noticed that before I went to sea.” He then told Mr. Fountain the + names of his three meadows, and curious names they were. Two of them were + a good deal older than William the Conqueror. David wrote them on a slip + of paper. He then produced a chart. “What is that, Mr. David?” + </p> + <p> + “A map of the Melton estate, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how on earth did you get that?” + </p> + <p> + “An old shipmate of mine lives in that quarter—got him to make it + for me. Overhaul it, sir; you will find the Melton estate has got all your + three names within a furlong of the mansion house.” + </p> + <p> + “From this you infer—” + </p> + <p> + “That one of that house came here, and brought the E along with him that + has got dropped somehow since, and, being so far from his birthplace, he + thought he would have one or two of the old names about him. What will you + bet me he hasn't shot more than one brace of partridges on those fields + about Melton when he was a boy? So he christened your three fields afresh, + and the new names took; likely he made a point of it with the people in + the village. For all that, I have found one old fellow who stands out + against them to this day. His name is Newel. He will persist in calling + the field next to your house Snap Witcheloe. 'That is what my grandfather + allus named it,' says he, 'and that is the name it went by afore there was + ever a Fountain in this ere parish.' I have looked in the Parish Register, + and I see Newel's grandfather was born in 1690. Now, sir, all this is not + mathematical proof; but, when you come to add it to your own direct + proofs, that carry you within a cable's length of Port Fontaine, it is + very convincing; and, not to pay out too much yarn, I'll bet—my head—to + a China orange—” + </p> + <p> + “David, don't be vulgar.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Mr. Dodd—be yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, to serve Eve out, I'll bet her head (and that is a better one + than mine) to a China orange that Fontaine and Fountain are one, and that + the first Fontaine came over here from Melton more than one hundred and + thirty years ago, and less than one hundred and forty, when Newel's + grandfather was a young man.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Probatum est,”</i> shouted old Fountain, his eyes sparkling, his voice + trembling with emotion. “Miss Fontaine,” said he, turning to Lucy, + throwing a sort of pompous respect into his voice and manner, “you shall + never marry any man that cannot give you as good a home as Melton, and + quarter as good a coat of arms with you as your own, the Founteyns'.” + David's heart took a chill as if an ice-arrow had gone through it. “So + join me to thank our young friend here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain held out his hand. David gave his mechanically in return, + scarcely knowing what he did. “You are a worthy and most intelligent young + man, and you have made an old man as happy as a lord,” said the old + gentleman, shaking him warmly. + </p> + <p> + “And there is my hand, too,” said Lucy, putting out hers with a blush, “to + show you I bear you no malice for being more unselfish and more sagacious + than us all.” Instantly David's cold chill fled unreasonably. His cheeks + burned with blushes, his eyes glowed, his heart thumped, and the delicate + white, supple, warm, velvet hand that nestled in his shot electric tremors + through his whole frame, when glided, with well-bred noiselessness, + through the open door, Mr. Talboys, and stood looking yellow at that + ardent group, and the massive yet graceful bare arm stretched across the + table, and the white hand melting into the brown one. + </p> + <p> + While he stood staring, David looked up, and caught that strange, that + yellow look. Instantly a light broke in on him. “So I should look,” felt + David, “if I saw her hand in his.” He held Lucy's hand tight (she was just + beginning to withdraw it), and glared from his seat on the newcomer like a + lion ready to spring. Eve read and turned pale; she knew what was in the + man's blood. + </p> + <p> + Lucy now quietly withdrew her hand, and turned with smiling composure + toward the newcomer, and Mr. Fountain thrust a minor anxiety between the + passions of the rivals. He rose hastily, and went to Talboys, and, under + cover of a warm welcome, took care to let him know Miss Dodd had been kind + enough to invite herself and David. He then explained with uneasy + animation what David had done for him. + </p> + <p> + Talboys received all this with marked coldness; but it gave him time to + recover his self-possession. He shook hands with Lucy, all but ignored + David and Eve, and quietly assumed the part of principal personage. He + then spoke to Lucy in a voice tuned for the occasion, to give the + impression that confidential communication was not unusual between him and + her. He apologized, scarce above a whisper, for not having come to dinner + on her last day. + </p> + <p> + “But after dinner,” said he, “my brother seemed fatigued. I treacherously + recommended bed. You forgive me? The nabob instantly acted on my selfish + hint. I mounted my horse, and <i>me voila.”</i> In short, in two minutes + he had retaliated tenfold on David. As for Lucy, she was a good deal + amused at this sudden public assumption of a tenderness the gentleman had + never exhibited in private, but a little mortified at his parade of + mysterious familiarity; still, for a certain female reason, she allowed + neither to appear, but wore an air of calm cordiality, and gave Talboys + his full swing. + </p> + <p> + David, seated sore against his will at another table, whither Mr. Fountain + removed him and parchments on pretense of inspecting the leases, listened + with hearing preternaturally keen—listened and writhed. + </p> + <p> + His back was toward them. At last he heard Talboys propose in murmuring + accents to accompany her the first stage of her journey. She did not + answer directly, and that second was an age of anguish to poor David. + </p> + <p> + When she did answer, as if to compensate for her hesitation, she said, + with alacrity: “I shall be delighted; it will vary the journey most + agreeably; I will ride the pony you were so kind as to give me.” + </p> + <p> + The letters swam before David's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lucy came to the table, and, standing close behind David—so close + that he felt her pure cool breath mingle with his hair, said to her uncle: + “Mr. Talboys proposes to me to ride the first stage to-morrow; if I do, + you must be of the party.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, must I? Well, I'll roll after you in my phaeton.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Eve could bear no longer the anguish on David's beloved + face. It made her hysterical. She could hardly command herself. She rose + hastily, and saying, “We must not keep you up the night before a journey,” + took leave with David. As he shook hands with Lucy, his imploring eye + turned full on hers, and sought to dive into her heart. But that soft + sapphire eye was unfathomable. It was like those dark blue southern waters + that seem to reveal all, yet hide all, so deep they are, though clear. + </p> + <p> + Eve. “Thank Heaven, we are safe out of the house.” + </p> + <p> + David. “I have got a rival.” + </p> + <p> + Eve. “A pretty rival; she doesn't care a button for him.” + </p> + <p> + David. “He rides the first stage with her.” + </p> + <p> + Eve. “Well, what of that?” + </p> + <p> + David. “I have got a rival.” + </p> + <p> + David was none of your lie-a-beds. He rose at five in summer, six in + winter, and studied hard till breakfast time; after that he was at every + fool's service. This morning he did not appear at the breakfast table, and + the servant had not seen him about. Eve ran upstairs full of anxiety. He + was not in his room. The bed had not been slept in; the impress of his + body outside showed, however, that he had flung himself down on it to + snatch an uneasy slumber. + </p> + <p> + Eve sent the girl into the village to see if she could find him or hear + tidings of him. The girl ran out without her bonnet, partaking her + mistress's anxiety, but did not return for nearly half an hour, that + seemed an age to Eve. The girl had lost some time by going to Josh Grace + for information. Grace's house stood in an orchard; so he was the + unlikeliest man in the village to have seen David. She set against this + trivial circumstance the weighty one that he was her sweetheart, and went + to him first. + </p> + <p> + “I hain't a-sin him, Sue; thee hadst better ask at the blacksmith's shop,” + said Joshua Grace. + </p> + <p> + Susan profited by this hint, and learned at the blacksmith's shop that + David had gone by up the road about six in the morning, walking very fast. + She brought the news to Eve. + </p> + <p> + “Toward Royston?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss; but, la! he won't ever think to go all the way to Royston—without + his breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Susan. I think I know what he is gone for.” + </p> + <p> + On the servant retiring, her assumed firmness left her. + </p> + <p> + “On the road <i>she</i> is to travel! and his rival with her. What mad act + is he going to do? Heaven have mercy on him, and me, and her!” + </p> + <p> + Eve knew what was in the man's blood. She sat trembling at home till she + could bear it no longer. She put on her bonnet, and sallied out on the + road to Royston, determined to stop the carriage, profess to have business + at Royston, and take a seat beside Mr. Fountain. She felt that the very + sight of her might prevent David from committing any great rashness or + folly. On reaching the high road, she observed a fresh track of narrow + wheels, that her rustic experience told her could only be those of a + four-wheeled carriage, and, making inquiries, she found she was too late; + carriage and riders had gone on before. + </p> + <p> + Her heart sank. Too late by a few minutes; but somehow she could not turn + back. She walked as fast as she could after the gay cavalcade, a prey to + one of those female anxieties we have all laughed at as extravagant, + proved unreasonable, and sometimes found prophetic. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lucy and Mr. Talboys cantered gayly along; Mr. Fountain rolled + after in a phaeton; the traveling carriage came last. Lucy was in spirits; + motion enlivens us all, but especially such of us as are women. She had + also another cause for cheerfulness, that may perhaps transpire. Her two + companions and unconscious dependents were governed by her mood. She made + them larks to-day, as she had owls for some weeks past, last night + excepted. She would fall back every now and then, and let Uncle Fountain + pass her; then come dashing up to him, and either pull up short with a + piece of solemn information like an <i>aid-de-camp</i> from headquarters, + or pass him shooting a shaft of raillery back into his chariot, whereat he + would rise with mock fury and yell a repartee after her. Fountain found + himself good company—Talboys himself. It was not the lady; oh dear + no! it never is. + </p> + <p> + At last all seemed so bright, and Mr. Talboys found himself so agreeable, + that he suddenly recalled his high resolve not to pop in a county + desecrated by Dodds. “I'll risk it now,” said he; and he rode back to + Fountain and imparted his intention, and the senior nearly bounded off his + seat. He sounded the charge in a stage whisper, because of the coachman, + “At her at once!” + </p> + <p> + “Secret conference? hum!” said Lucy, twisting her pony, and looking slyly + back. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys rejoined her, and, after a while, began in strange, melodious + accents, “You will leave a blank—” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we canter?” said Lucy, gayly, and off went the pony. Talboys + followed, and at the next hill resumed the sentimental cadence. + </p> + <p> + “You will leave a sad blank here, Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “No greater than I found,” replied the lady, innocently (?). “Oh, dear!” + she cried, with sudden interest, “I am afraid I have dropped my comb.” She + felt under her hat. [No, viper, you have not dropped your comb, but you + are feeling for a large black pin with a head to it. There, you have found + it, and taken it out of your hair, and got it hid in your hand. What is + that for?] + </p> + <p> + “Ten times greater,” moaned the honeyed Talboys; “for then we had not seen + you. Ah! my dear Miss Fountain—The devil! wo-ho, Goliah!” + </p> + <p> + For the pony spilled the treacle. He lashed out both heels with a squeak + of amazement within an inch of Mr. Talboys' horse, which instantly began + to rear, and plunge, and snort. While Talboys, an excellent horseman, was + calming his steed, Lucy was condoling with hers. “Dear little naughty + fellow!” said she, patting him [“I did it too hard”]. + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying, the blessing we have never enjoyed we do not miss; but, + now that you have shone upon us, what can reconcile us to lose you, unless + it be the hope that—Hallo!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The pony was off with a bound like a buck. She had found out the right + depth of pin this time. “Ah! where is my whip? I have dropped it; how + careless!” Then they had to ride back for the whip, and by this means + joined Mr. Fountain. Lucy rode by his side, and got the carriage between + her and her beau. By this plan she not only evaded sentiment, but matured + by a series of secret trials her skill with her weapon. Armed with this + new science, she issued forth, and, whenever Mr. Talboys left off + indifferent remarks and sounded her affections, she probed the pony, and + he kicked or bolted as the case might require. + </p> + <p> + “Confound that pony!” cried Talboys; “he used to be quiet enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't scold him, dear, playful little love. He carries me like a + wave.” + </p> + <p> + At this simple sentence Talboys' dormant jealousy contrived to revive. He + turned sulky, and would not waste any more tenderness, and presently they + rattled over the stones of Royston. Lucy commended her pony with peculiar + earnestness to the ostler. “Pray groom him well, and feed him well, sir; + he is a love.” The ostler swore he would not wrong her ladyship's nag for + the world. + </p> + <p> + Lucy then expressed her desire to go forward without delay: “Aunt will + expect me.” She took her seat in the carriage, bade a kind farewell to + both the gentlemen now that no tender answer was possible, and was whirled + away. + </p> + <p> + Thus the coy virgin eluded the pair. + </p> + <p> + Now her manner in taking leave of Talboys was so kind, so smiling (in the + sweet consciousness of having baffled him), that Fountain felt sure it all + had gone smoothly. They were engaged. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he cried, with great animation. + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the despondent reply. + </p> + <p> + “Refused?” screeched the other; “impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” was the haughty reply. + </p> + <p> + “What then? Did you change your mind? Didn't you propose after all?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>couldn't.</i> That d—d pony wouldn't keep still.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain groaned. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, left to herself, gave a little sigh of relief. She had been playing + a part for the last twenty-four hours. Her cordiality with Mr. Talboys + naturally misled Eve and David, and perhaps a male reader or two. Shall I + give the clue? It may be useful to you, young gentlemen. Well, then, her + sex are compounders. Accustomed from childhood never to have anything + entirely their own way, they are content to give and take; and, these + terms once accepted, it is a point of honor and tact with them not to let + a creature see the irksome part of the bargain is not as delicious as the + other. One coat of their own varnish goes over the smooth and the rough, + the bitter and the sweet. + </p> + <p> + Now Lucy, besides being singularly polite and kind, was <i>femme jusqu' au + bout des ongles.</i> If her instincts had been reasons, and her vague + thoughts could have been represented by anything so definite as words, the + result might have appeared thus: + </p> + <p> + “A few hours, and you can bore me no more, Mr. Talboys. Now what must I do + for you in return? <i>Seem not to be bored to-day? Mais c'est la moindre + des choses. Seem to be pleased with your society?</i> Why not? it is only + for an hour or two, and my seeming to like it will not prolong it. My + heart swells with happiness at the thought of escaping from you, good + bore; you shall share my happiness, good bore. It is so kind of you not to + bore me to all eternity.” + </p> + <p> + This was why the last night she sat like Patience on an ottoman smiling on + Talboys and racking David's heart; and this was why she made the ride so + pleasant to those she was at heart glad to leave, till they tried + sentiment on, and then she was an eel directly, pony and all. + </p> + <p> + Lucy (sola). “That is over. Poor Mr. Talboys! Does he fancy he has an + attachment? No; I please and I am courted wherever I go, but I have never + been loved. If a man loved me I should see it in his face, I should feel + it without a word spoken. Once or twice I fancied I saw it in one man's + eyes: they seemed like a lion's that turned to a dove's as they looked at + me.” Lucy closed her own eyes and recalled her impression: “It must have + been fancy. Ought I to wish to inspire such a passion as others have + inspired? No, for I could never return it. The very language of passion in + romances seems so extravagant to me, yet so beautiful. It is hard I should + not be loved, merely because I cannot love. Many such natures have been + adored. I could not bear to die and not be loved as deeply as ever woman + was loved. I must be loved, adored and worshiped: it would be so sweet—sweet!” + She slowly closed her eyes, and the long lovely lashes drooped, and a + celestial smile parted her lips as she fell into a vague, delicious + reverie. Suddenly the carriage stopped at the foot of a hill. She opened + her eyes, and there stood David Dodd at the carriage window. + </p> + <p> + Lucy put her head out. “Why, it is Mr. Dodd! Oh, Mr. Dodd, is there + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You look so pale.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” and he flushed faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Which way are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going home again now,” said David, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “You came all this way to bid me good-by,” and she arched her eyebrows and + laughed—a little uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “It didn't seem a step. It will seem longer going back.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you shall ride back. My pony is at the White Horse; will you not + ride my pony back for me? then I shall know he will be kindly used; a + stranger would whip him.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think my arm would wither if I ill-used him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good. I suppose it is because you are so brave.” + </p> + <p> + “Me brave? I don't feel so. Am I to tell him to drive on?” and he looked + at her with haggard and imploring eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes fell before his. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, then,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He cried with a choking voice to the postilion, “Go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage went on and left him standing in the road, his head upon his + breast. + </p> + <p> + At the steepest part of the hill a trace broke, and the driver drew the + carriage across the hill and shouted to David. He came running up, and put + a large stone behind each wheel. + </p> + <p> + Lucy was alarmed. “Mr. Dodd! let me out.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her out. The postboy was at a <i>nonplus;</i> but David whipped + a piece of cord and a knife out of his pocket, and began, with great + rapidity and dexterity, to splice the trace. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now you are pleased, Mr. Dodd; our misfortune will elicit your skill + in emergencies.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, it isn't that; it is—I never hoped to see you again so + soon.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored, and her eyes sought the ground; the splice was soon made. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said David; “I could have spent an hour over it; but you would + have been vexed, and the bitter moment must have come at last.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Miss Fountain—oh! mayn't I say Miss Lucy to-day?” he + cried, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you may,” said Lucy, the tears rising in her eyes at his sad + face and beseeching look. “Oh, Mr. Dodd, parting with those we esteem is + always sad enough; I got away from the door without crying—for once; + don't <i>you</i> make me cry.” + </p> + <p> + “Make you cry?” cried David, as it he had been suspected of sacrilege; + “God forbid!” He muttered in a choking voice, “You give the word of + command, for I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “You can go on,” said her soft, clear voice; but first she gave David her + hand with a gentle look—“Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + But David could not speak to her. He held her hand tight in both his + powerful hands. They seemed iron to her—shaking, trembling, grasping + iron. The carriage went slowly on, and drew her hand away. She shrank into + a corner of the carriage; he frightened her. + </p> + <p> + He followed the carriage to the brow of the hill, then sat down upon a + heap of stones, and looked despairingly after it. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lucy put her head in her hands and blushed, though she was all + alone. “How dare he forget the distance between us? Poor fellow! have not + I at times forgotten it? I am worse than he. I lost my self-possession; I + should have checked his folly; he knows nothing of <i>les convenances.</i> + He has hurt my hand, he is so rough; I feel his clutch now; there, I + thought so, it is all red—poor fellow! Nonsense! he is a sailor; he + knows nothing of the world and its customs. Parting with a pleasant + acquaintance forever made him a little sad. + </p> + <p> + “He is all nature; he is like nobody else; he shows every feeling instead + of concealing it, that is all. He has gone home, I hope.” She glanced + hastily back. He was sitting on the stones, his arms drooping, his head + bowed, a picture of despondency. She put her face in her hands again and + pondered, blushing higher and higher. Then the pale face that had always + been ruddy before, the simple grief and agitation, the manly eye that did + not know how to weep, but was so clouded and troubled, and wildly sad; the + shaking hands, that had clutched hers like a drowning man's (she felt them + still), the quivering features, choked voice, and trembling lip, all these + recoiled with double force upon her mind: they touched her far more than + sobs and tears would have done, her sex's ready signs of shallow grief. + </p> + <p> + Two tears stole down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “If he would but go home and forget me!” She glanced hastily back. David + was climbing up a tree, active as a cat. “He is like nobody else—he! + he! Stay! is that to see the last of me—the very last? Poor soul! + Madman, how will this end? What can come of it but misery to him, remorse + to me? + </p> + <p> + “This is love.” She half closed her eyes and smiled, repeating, “This is + love. + </p> + <p> + “Oh how I despise all the others and their feeble flatteries!” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forgive me my mad, my wicked wish! + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> beloved. + </p> + <p> + “I am adored. + </p> + <p> + “I am miserable!” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the carriage was out of sight, David came down and hurried from + the place. He found the pony at the inn. The ostler had not even removed + his saddle. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Methought that ostler did protest too much.” + </pre> + <p> + David kissed the saddle and the pommels, and the bridle her hand had held, + and led the pony out. After walking a mile or two he mounted the pony, to + sit in her seat, not for ease. Walking thirty miles was nothing to this + athlete; sticking on and holding on with his chin on his knee was rather + fatiguing. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Eve walked on till she was four miles from home. No David. She + sat down and cried a little space, then on again. She had just reached an + angle in the road, when—clatter, clatter—David came cantering + around with his knee in his mouth. Eve gave a joyful scream, and up went + both her hands with sudden delight. At the double shock to his senses the + pony thought his end was come, and perhaps the world's. He shied slap into + the hedge and stuck there—alone; for, his rider swaying violently + the reverse way, the girths burst, the saddle peeled off the pony's back, + and David sat griping the pommel of the saddle in the middle of the road + at Eve's feet, looking up in her face with an uneasy grin, while dust rose + around him in a little column. Eve screeched, and screeched, and + screeched; then fell to, with a face as red as a turkey-cock's, and beat + David furiously, and hurt—her little hands. + </p> + <p> + David laughed. This incident did him good—shook him up a bit. The + pony groveled out of the ditch and cantered home, squeaking at intervals + and throwing his heels. + </p> + <p> + David got up, hoisted the side saddle on to his square shoulders, and, + keeping it there by holding the girths, walked with Eve toward Font Abbey. + She was now a little ashamed of her apprehensions; and, besides, when she + leathered David, she was, in her own mind, serving him out for both + frights. At all events, she did not scold him, but kindly inquired his + adventures, and he told her what he had done and said, and what Miss + Fountain had said. + </p> + <p> + The account disappointed Eve. “All this is just a pack of nothing,” said + she. “It is two lovers parting, or it is two common friendly + acquaintances; all depends on how it was done, and that you don't tell + me.” Then she put several subtle questions as to the looks, and tones and + manner of the young lady. David could not answer them. On this she + informed him he was a fool. + </p> + <p> + “So I begin to think,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “There! be quiet,” said she, “and let me think it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! ay!” said he. + </p> + <p> + While he was being quiet and letting her think a carriage came rapidly up + behind them, with a horseman riding beside it; and, as the pedestrians + drew aside, an ironical voice fell upon them, and the carriage and + horseman stopped, and floured, them with dust. + </p> + <p> + Messrs. Talboys and Fountain took a stroll to look at the new jail that + was building in Royston, and, as they returned, Talboys, whose wounded + pride had now fermented, told Mr. Fountain plainly that he saw nothing for + it but to withdraw his pretensions to Miss Fountain. + </p> + <p> + “My own feelings are not sufficiently engaged for me to play the up-hill + game of overcoming her disinclination.” + </p> + <p> + “Disinclination? The mere shyness of a modest girl. If she was to be 'won + unsought,' she would not be worthy to be Mrs. Talboys.” + </p> + <p> + “Her worth is indisputable,” said Mr. Talboys, “but that is no reason why + I should force upon her my humble claims.” + </p> + <p> + The moment his friend's pride began to ape humility, Fountain saw the + wound it had received was incurable. He sighed and was silent. Opposition + would only have set fire to opposition. + </p> + <p> + They went home together in silence. On the road Talboys caught sight of a + tall gentleman carrying a side-saddle, and a little lady walking beside + him. He recognized his <i>bete noir</i> with a grim smile. Here at least + was one he had defeated and banished from the fair. What on earth was the + man doing? Oh, he had been giving his sister a ride on a donkey, and they + had met with an accident. Mr. Talboys was in a humor for revenge, so he + pulled up, and in a somewhat bantering voice inquired where was the steed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is in port by now,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Do you usually ease the animal of that part of his burden, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said David, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + Eve, who hated Mr. Talboys, and saw through his sneers, bit her lip and + colored, but kept silence. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Talboys, unwarned by her flashing eye, proceeded with his ironical + interrogatory, and then it was that Eve, reflecting that both these + gentlemen had done their worst against David, and that henceforth the + battlefield could never again be Font Abbey, decided for revenge. She + stepped forward like an airy sylph, between David and his persecutor, and + said, with a charming smile, “I will explain, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys bowed and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The reason my brother carries this side-saddle is that it belongs to a + charming young lady—you have some little acquaintance with her—Miss + Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fountain!” cried Talboys, in a tone from which all the irony was + driven out by Eve's coup. + </p> + <p> + “She begged David to ride her pony home; she would not trust him to + anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Talboys, stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, owing to—to—an accident, the saddle came off, and + the pony ran home; so then David had only her saddle to take care of for + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we escorted Miss Fountain to Royston, and we never saw Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but you did not go beyond Royston,” said Eve, with a cunning air. + </p> + <p> + “Beyond Royston? where? and what was he doing there? Did he go all that + way to take her orders about her pony?” said Talboys, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that you must excuse me, sir,” cried Eve, with a scornful + laugh; “that is being too inquisitive. Good-morning”; and she carried + David off in triumph. + </p> + <p> + The next moment Mr. Talboys spurred on, followed by the phaeton. Talboys' + face was yellow. + </p> + <p> + <i>“La langue d'une femme est son epee.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Sheer off and repair damages, you lubber,” said David, dryly, “and don't + come under our guns again, or we shall blow you out of the water. Hum! + Eve, wasn't your tongue a little too long for your teeth just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Not an inch.” + </p> + <p> + “She might be vexed; it is not for me to boast of her kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Temper won't let a body see everything. I'll tell you what I have done, + too—I've declared war.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you? Then run the Jack up to the mizzen-top, and let us fight it + out.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the way to look at it, David. Now don't you speak to me till we + get home; let me think.” + </p> + <p> + At the gate of Font Abbey, they parted, and Eve went home. David came to + the stable yard and hailed, “Stable ahoy!” Out ran a little bandy-legged + groom. “The craft has gone adrift,” cried David, “but I've got the gear + safe. Stow it away”; and as he spoke he chucked the saddle a distance of + some six yards on to the bandy-legged groom, who instantly staggered back + and sank on a little dunghill, and there sat, saddled, with two eyes like + saucers, looking stupefied surprise between the pommels. + </p> + <p> + “It is you for capsizing in a calm,” remarked David, with some surprise, + and went his way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Eve, have you thought?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, David, I was a little hasty; that puppy would provoke a saint. After + all there is no harm done; they can't hurt us much now. It is not here the + game will be played out. Now tell me, when does your ship sail?” + </p> + <p> + “It wants just five weeks to a day.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she take up her passengers at —— as usual?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Eve, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Bazalgette lives within a mile or two of ——. You + have a good excuse for accepting her invitation. Stay your last week in + her house. There will be no Talboys to come between you. Do all a man can + do to win her in that week.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “And if she says 'No,' be man enough to tear her out of your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tear her out of my heart, but I will win her. I must win her. I + can't live without her. A month to wait!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys. “Well, sir, what do you say now?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain (hypocritically). “I say that your sagacity was superior to + mine; forgive me if I have brought you into a mortifying collision. To be + defeated by a merchant sailor!” He paused to see the effect of his + poisoned shaft. + </p> + <p> + Talboys. “But I am not defeated. I will not be defeated. It is no longer a + personal question. For your sake, for her sake, I must save her from a + degrading connection. I will accompany you to Mrs. Bazalgette's. When + shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not immediately; it would look so odd. The old one would smell a + rat directly. Suppose we say in a month's time.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; I shall have a clear stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I shall then use all my influence with her. Hitherto I have used + none.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Mr. Dodd cannot penetrate there, I conclude.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she will be Mrs. Talboys.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she will.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy sighed a little over David's ardent, despairing passion, and his pale + and drawn face. Her woman's instinct enabled her to comprehend in part a + passion she was at this period of her life incapable of feeling, and she + pitied him. He was the first of her admirers she had ever pitied. She + sighed a little, then fretted a little, then reproached herself vaguely. + “I must have been guilty of some imprudence—given some + encouragement. Have I failed in womanly reserve, or is it all his fault? + He is a sailor. Sailors are like nobody else. He is so simple-minded. He + sees, no doubt, that he is my superior in all sterling qualities, and that + makes him forget the social distance between him and me. And yet why + suspect him of audacity? Poor fellow, he had not the courage to <i>say</i> + anything to me, after all. No; he will go to sea, and forget his folly + before he comes back.” Then she had a gust of egotism. It was nice to be + loved ardently and by a hero, even though that hero was not a gentleman of + distinction, scarcely a gentleman at all. The next moment she blushed at + her own vanity. Next she was seized with a sense of the great indelicacy + and unpardonable impropriety of letting her mind run at all upon a person + of the other sex; and shaking her lovely shoulders, as much as to say, + “Away idle thoughts,” she nestled and fitted with marvelous suppleness + into a corner of the carriage, and sank into a sweet sleep, with a red + cheek, two wet eyelashes, and a half-smile of the most heavenly character + imaginable. And so she glided along till, at five in the afternoon, the + carriage turned in at Mr. Bazalgette's gates. Lucy lifted her eyes, and + there was quite a little group standing on the steps to receive her, and + waving welcome to the universal pet. There was Mr. Bazalgette, Mrs. + Bazalgette, and two servants, and a little in the rear a tall stranger of + gentleman-like appearance. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies embraced one another so rapidly yet so smoothly, and so + dovetailed and blended, that they might be said to flow together, and make + one in all but color, like the Saone and the Rhone. After half a dozen + kisses given and returned with a spirit and rapidity from which, if we + male spectators of these ardent encounters were wise, we might slyly learn + a lesson, Aunt Bazalgette suddenly darted her mouth at Lucy's ear, and + whispered a few words with an animation that struck everybody present. + Lucy smiled in reply. After “the meeting of the muslins,” Mr. Bazalgette + shook hands warmly, and at last Lucy was introduced to his friend Mr. + Hardie, who expressed in courteous terms his hopes that her journey had + been a pleasant one. + </p> + <p> + The animated words Mrs. Bazalgette whispered into Lucy's ear at that + moment of burning affection were as follows: + </p> + <p> + “You have had it washed!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy (unpacking her things in her bedroom). “Who is Mr. Hardie, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “What! don't you know? Mr. Hardie is the great banker.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a banker? I should have taken him for something far more + distinguished. His manner is good. There is a suavity without feebleness + or smallness.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette's eye flashed, but she answered with apparent nonchalance: + “I am glad you like him; you will take him off my hands now and then. He + must not be neglected; Bazalgette would murder us. <i>Apropos,</i> remind + me to ask him to tell you Mr. Hardie's story, and how he comes to be + looked up to like a prince in this part of the world, though he is only a + banker, with only ten thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + “You make me quite curious, aunt. Cannot you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Oh, dear, no! Paper currency, foreign loans, government securities, + gold mines, ten per cents, Mr. Peel, and why <i>one</i> breaks and <i>another</i> + doesn't! all that is quite beyond me. Bazalgette is your man. I had no + idea your mousseline-delame would have washed so well. Why, it looks just + out of the shop; it—” Come away, reader, for Heaven's sake! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + THE man whom Mr. Bazalgette introduced so smoothly and off-hand to Lucy + Fountain exercised a terrible influence over her life, as you will see by + and by. This alone would make it proper to lay his antecedents before the + reader. But he has independent claims to this notice, for he is a + principal figure in my work. The history of this remarkable man's fortune + is a study. The progress of his mind is another, and its past as well as + its future are the very corner-stone of that capacious story which I am + now building brick by brick, after my fashion where the theme is large. I + invite my reader, therefore, to resist the natural repugnance which + delicate minds feel to the ring of the precious metals, and for the sake + of the coming story to accompany me into AN OLD BANK. + </p> + <p> + The Hardies were goldsmiths in the seventeenth century; and when that + business split, and the deposit and bill-of-exchange business went one + way, and the plate and jewels another, they became bankers from father to + son. A peculiarity attended them; they never broke, nor even cracked. Jew + James Hardie conducted for many years a smooth, unostentatious and + lucrative business. It professed to be a bank of deposit only, and not of + discount. This was not strictly true. There never was a bank in creation + that did not discount under the rose, when the paper represented + commercial effects, and the indorsers were customers and favorites. But + Mr. Hardie's main business was in deposits bearing no interest. It was of + that nature known as “the legitimate banking business,” a title not, I + think, invented by the customers, since it is a system destitute of that + reciprocity which is the soul of all just and legitimate commercial + relations. + </p> + <p> + You shall lend me your money gratis, and I will lend it out at interest: + such is legitimate banking—in the opinion of bankers. + </p> + <p> + This system, whose decay we have seen, and whose death my young readers + are like to see, flourished under old Hardie, green—as the public in + whose pockets its roots were buried. + </p> + <p> + Country gentlemen and noblemen, and tradesmen well-to-do, left floating + balances varying from seven, five, three thousand pounds, down to a + hundred or two, in his hands. His art consisted in keeping his + countenance, receiving them with the air of a person conferring a favor, + and investing the bulk of them in government securities, which in that day + returned four and five per cent. As he did not pay one shilling for the + use of the capital, he pocketed the whole interest. A small part of the + aggregate balance was not invested, but remained in the bank coffers as a + reserve to meet any accidental drain. It was a point of honor with the + squires and rectors, who shared their incomes with him in a grateful + spirit, never to draw their balances down too low; and more than once in + this banker's career a gentleman has actually borrowed money for a month + or two of the bank at four per cent, rather than exhaust his deposit, or, + in other words, paid his debtor interest for the temporary use of his own + everlasting property. Such capitalists are not to be found in our day; + they may reappear at the Millennium. + </p> + <p> + The banker had three clerks; one a youth and very subordinate, the other + two steady old men, at good salaries, who knew the affairs of the bank, + but did not chatter them out of doors, because they were allowed to talk + about them to their employer; and this was a vent. The tongue must have a + regular vent or random explosions—choose! Besides the above + compliment paid to years of probity and experience, the ancient <i>regime</i> + bound these men to the interest and person of their chief by other simple + customs now no more. + </p> + <p> + At each of the four great festivals of the Church they dined with Mr. and + Mrs. Hardie, and were feasted and cordially addressed as equals, though + they could not be got to reply in quite the same tone. They were never + scorned, but a peculiar warmth of esteem and friendship was shown them on + these occasions. One reason was, the old-fangled banker himself aspired to + no higher character than that of a man of business, and were not these + clerks men of business good and true? his staff, not his menials? + </p> + <p> + And since I sneered just now at a vital simplicity, let me hasten to own + that here, at least, it was wise, as well as just and worthy. Where men + are forever handling heaps of money, it is prudent to fortify them doubly + against temptation—with self-respect, and a sufficient salary. + </p> + <p> + It is one thing not to be led into temptation (accident on which half the + virtue in the world depends), another to live in it and overcome it; and + in a bank it is not the conscience only that is tempted, but the senses. + Piles of glittering gold, amiable as Hesperian fruit; heaps of silver + paper, that seem to whisper as they rustle, “Think how great we are, yet + see how little; we are fifteen thousand pounds, yet we can go into your + pocket; whip us up, and westward ho! If you have not the courage for that, + at all events wet your finger; a dozen of us will stick to it. That pen in + your hand has but to scratch that book there, and who will know? Besides, + you can always put us back, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Hundreds and thousands of men take a share in the country's public + morality, legislate, build churches, and live and die respectable, who + would be jail-birds sooner or later if their sole income was the pay of a + banker's clerk, and their eyes, and hands, and souls rubbed daily against + hundred-pound notes as his do. I tell you it is a temptation of + forty-devil power. + </p> + <p> + Not without reason, then, did this ancient banker bestow some respect and + friendship on those who, tempted daily, brought their hands pure, + Christmas after Christmas, to their master's table. Not without reason did + Mrs. Hardie pet them like princes at the great festivals, and always send + them home in the carriage as persons their entertainers delighted to + honor. Herein I suspect she looked also, woman-like, to their security; + for they were always expected to be solemnly, not improperly, intoxicated + by the end of supper; no wise fuddled, but muddled; for the graceful + superstition of the day suspected severe sobriety at solemnities as + churlish and ungracious. + </p> + <p> + The bank itself was small and grave, and a trifle dingy, and bustle there + was none in it; but if the stream of business looked sluggish and narrow, + it was deep and quietly incessant, and tended all one way—to enrich + the proprietor without a farthing risked. + </p> + <p> + Old Hardie had sat there forty years with other people's money overflowing + into his lap as it rolled deep and steady through that little + counting-house, when there occurred, or rather recurred, a certain + phenomenon, which comes, with some little change of features, in a certain + cycle of commercial changes as regularly as the month of March in the + year, or the neap-tides, or the harvest moon, but, strange to say, at each + visit takes the country by surprise. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + THE nation had passed through the years of exhaustion and depression that + follow a long war; its health had returned, and its elastic vigor was + already reviving, when two remarkable harvests in succession, and an + increased trade with the American continent, raised it to prosperity. One + sign of vigor, the roll of capital, was wanting; speculation was fast + asleep. The government of the day seems to have observed this with regret. + A writer of authority on the subject says that, to stir stagnant + enterprise, they directed “the Bank of England to issue about four + millions in advances to the state and in enlarged discounts.” I give you + the man's words; they doubtless carry a signification to you, though they + are jargon in a fog to me. Some months later the government took a step + upon very different motives, which incidentally had a powerful effect in + loosening capital and setting it in agitation. They reduced to four per + cent the Navy Five per Cents, a favorite national investment, which + represented a capital of two hundred millions. Now, when men have got used + to five per cent from a certain quarter, they cannot be content with four, + particularly the small holders; so this reduction of the Navy Five per + Cents unsettled several thousand capitalists, and disposed them to search + for an investment. A flattering one offered itself in the nick of time. + Considerable attention had been drawn of late to the mineral wealth of + South America, and one or two mining companies existed, but languished in + the hands of professed speculators. The public now broke like a sudden + flood into these hitherto sluggish channels of enterprise, and up went the + shares to a high premium. + </p> + <p> + Almost contemporaneously, numerous joint-stock companies were formed, and + directed toward schemes of internal industry. The small capitalists that + had sold out of the Navy Five per Cents threw themselves into them all, + and being bona fide speculators, drew hundreds in their train. Adventure, + however, was at first restrained in some degree by the state of the + currency. It was low, and rested on a singularly sound basis. Mr. Peel's + Currency Bill had been some months in operation; by its principal + provision the Bank of England was compelled on and after a certain date to + pay gold for its notes on demand. The bank, anticipating a consequent rush + for gold, had collected vast quantities of sovereigns, the new coin; but + the rush never came, for a mighty simple reason. Gold is convenient in + small sums, but a burden and a nuisance in large ones. It betrays its + presence and invites robbers; it is a bore to lug it about, and a fearful + waste of golden time to count it. Men run upon gold only when they have + reason to distrust paper. But Mr. Peel's Bill, instead of damaging Bank of + England paper, solidified it, and gave the nation a just and novel + confidence in it. Thus, then, the large hoard of gold, fourteen to twenty + millions, that the caution of the bank directors had accumulated in their + coffers, remained uncalled for. But so large an abstraction from the + specie of the realm contracted the provincial circulation. The small + business of the country moved in fetters, so low was the metal currency. + The country bankers petitioned government for relief, and government, + listening to representations that were no doubt supported by facts, and + backed by other interests, tampered with the principle of Mr. Peel's Bill, + and allowed the country bankers to issue 1 pound and 2 pound notes for + eleven years to come. + </p> + <p> + To this step there were but six dissentients in the House of Commons, so + little was its importance seen or its consequences foreseen. This piece of + inconsistent legislation removed one restraint, irksome but salutary, from + commercial enterprise at a moment when capital was showing some signs of a + feverish agitation. Its immediate consequences were very encouraging to + the legislator; the country bankers sowed the land broadcast with their + small paper, and this, for the cause above adverted to, took <i>pro tem.</i> + the place of gold, and was seldom cashed at all except where silver was + wanted. On this enlargement of the currency the arms of the nation seemed + freed, enterprise shot ahead unshackled, and unwonted energy and activity + thrilled in the veins of the kingdom. The rise in the prices of all + commodities which followed, inevitable consequence of every increase in + the currency, whether real or fictitious, was in itself adverse to the + working classes; but the vast and numerous enterprises that were + undertaken, some in the country itself, some in foreign parts, to which + English workmen were conveyed, raised the price of labor higher still in + proportion; so no class was out of the sun. + </p> + <p> + Men's faces shone with excitement and hope. The dormant hordes of misers + crept out of their napkins and sepulchral strong-boxes into the warm air + of the golden time. The mason's chisel chirped all over the kingdom, and + the shipbuilders' * hammers rang all round the coast; corn was plenty, + money became a drug, labor wealth, and poverty and discontent vanished + from the face of the land. Adventure seemed all wings, and no lumbering + carcass to clog it. New joint-stock companies were started in crowds as + larks rise and darken the air in winter;** hundreds came to nothing, but + hundreds stood, and of these nearly all reached a premium, small in some + cases, high in most, fabulous in some; and the ease with which the first + calls for cash on the multitudinous shares were met argued the vast + resources that had hitherto slumbered in the nation for want of promising + investments suited to the variety of human likings and judgments. The mind + can hardly conceive any species of earthly enterprise that was not fitted + with a company, oftener with a dozen, and with fifty or sixty where the + proposed road to metal was direct. Of these the mines of Mexico still kept + the front rank, but not to the exclusion of European, Australian and + African ore. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Two hundred new vessels are said to have been laid on the + stocks in one year. + + ** In two years 624 new companies were projected. +</pre> + <p> + That masterpiece of fiction, “the Prospectus,” * diffused its gorgeous + light far and near, lit up the dark mine, and showed the minerals shining + and the jewels peeping; shone broad over the smiling fields, soon to be + plowed, reaped, and mowed by machinery; and even illumined the depths of + the sea, whence the buried treasures of ancient and modern times were + about to be recovered by the Diving-bell Company. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * There is a little unlicked anonymuncule going scribbling + about, whose creed seems to be that a little camel, to be + known, must be examined and compared with other quadrupeds, + but that the great arts can be judged out of the depths of a + penny-a-liner's inner consciousness, and to be rated and + ranked need not be compared <i>inter se.</i> Applying the + microscope to the method of the novelist, but diverting the + glass from the learned judge's method in Biography, the + learned historian's method in History, and the daily + chronicler's method in dressing <i>res gestoe</i> for a journal, + this little addle-pate has jumped to a comparative estimate, + not based on comparison, so that all his blindfold + vituperation of a noble art is chimera, not reasoning; it + is, in fact, a retrograde step in science and logic. This is + to evade the Baconian method, humble and wise, and crawl + back to the lazy and self-confident system of the ancients, + that kept the world dark so many centuries. It is [Greek] + versus Induction. “[Greek],” ladies, is “divination by means + of an ass's skull.” A pettifogger's skull, however, will + serve the turn, provided that pettifogger has been bitten + with an insane itch for scribbling about things so + infinitely above his capacity as the fine arts. Avoid this + sordid dreamer, and follow, in letters as in science, the + Baconian method! Then you will find that all uninspired + narratives are more or less inexact, and that one, and one + only, Fiction proper, has the honesty to antidote its errors + by professing inexactitude. You will find that the + Historian, Biographer, Novelist, and Chronicler are all + obliged <i>to paint upon their data</i> with colors the + imagination alone can supply, and all do it—alive or dead. + You will find that Fiction, as distinguished from neat + mendacity, has not one form upon earth, but a dozen. You + will find the most habitually, willfully, and inexcusably + inaccurate, with the means of accuracy under its nose, that + form of fiction called “anonymous criticism,” political and + literary; the most equivocating, perhaps, is the + “imaginavit,” better known at Lincoln's Inn as the + “affidavit.” In the article of exaggeration, the mildest and + tamest are perhaps History and the Novel, the boldest and + most sparkling is the Advertisement, but the grandest, + ablest, most gorgeous and plausibly exaggerating is surely + the grave commercial prospectus, drawn up and signed by + potent, grave and reverend seniors, who fear God, worship + Mammon, revere big wigs right or wrong, and never read + romances. +</pre> + <p> + One mine was announced with a “vein of ore as pure and solid as a tin + flagon.” + </p> + <p> + In another the prospectus offered mixed advantages. The ore lay in so + romantic a situation, and so thick, that the eye could be regaled with a + heavenly landscape, while the foot struck against neglected lumps of gold + weighing from two pounds to fifty. + </p> + <p> + This put the Bolanos mine on its mettle, and it announced, “not mines, but + mountains of silver.” Here, then, men might chip metal instead of + painfully digging it. With this, up went the shares till they reached 500 + premium. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tialpuxahua was done at 199 premium. + Anglo Mexican 10 pounds paid, went to 158 pounds premium. + United Mexican 10 “ “ , “ 155 pounds ” + Columbian 10 “ “ , “ 82 pounds ” + </pre> + <p> + But the Real del Monte, a mine of longer standing, on which 70 pounds was + paid up, went to 550 premium, and at a later period, for I am not + following the actual sequence of events, reached the enormous height of + 1350 premium. + </p> + <p> + The Prospectus of the Equitable Loan Company lamented in paragraph one the + imposition practiced on the poor, and denounced the pawnbrokers' 15 per + cent. In paragraph four it promised 40 per cent to its shareholders. + </p> + <p> + Philanthropy smiled in the heading, and Avarice stung in the tail. No + wonder a royal duke and other good names figured in this concern. Another + eloquent sheet appealed to the national dignity. Should a nation that was + just now being intersected by forty canal companies, and lighted by thirty + gas companies, and every life in it worth a button insured by a score of + insurance companies, dwell in hovels? Here was a country that, after long + ruling the sea, was now mining the earth, and employing her spoils nobly, + lending money to every nation and tribe that would fight for + constitutional liberty. Should the principal city of so sovereign a nation + be a collection of dingy dwellings made with burned clay? No; let these + perishable and ignoble, materials give way, and London be granite, or at + least wear a granite front—with which up went the Red Granite + Company. + </p> + <p> + A railway was projected from Dover to Calais, but the shares never came + into the market. + </p> + <p> + The Rhine Navigation shares were snapped up directly. The original + holders, having no faith in their own paper, sold large quantities + directly for the account. But they had underrated the ardor of the public. + At settling day the shares were at 28 premium, and the sellers found they + had made a most original hedge; for “the hedge” is not a daring operation + that grasps at large gains; it is a timid and cautious maneuver, whose + humble aim is to lower the figures of possible loss or gain. To be ruined + by a stroke of caution so shocked the directors' sense of justice that + they forged new coupons in imitation of the old, and tried to pass them + off. The fraud was discovered; a committee sat on it. Respectables quaked. + Finally, a scapegoat was put forward and expelled the Stock Exchange, and + with that the inquiry was hushed. It would have let too much daylight in + on a host of “good names” in the City and on 'Change. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, the country threw itself with ardor into Transatlantic + loans. This, however, was an existing speculation vastly dilated at the + period we are treating, but created about five years earlier. Its + antecedent history can be dispatched in a few words. + </p> + <p> + England is said to be governed by a limited monarchy; but in case of a + struggle between the two, her heart goes more with unlimited republic than + with genuine monarchy. The Spanish colonies in South America found this + out, and in their long battle for independence came to us for sympathy and + cash. They often obtained both, and in one case something more; we lent + Chili a million at six per cent, but we lent her ships, bayonets, and + Cochrane gratis. This last, a gallant and amphibious dragoon, went to work + in a style the slow Spaniard was unprepared for; blockaded the coast, + overawed the Royalist party, and wrenched the state from the mother + country, and settled it a republic. One of the first public acts of this + Chilian republic was to borrow a million of us to go on with. Peru took + only half a million at this period. Colombia, during the protracted + struggle her independence cost her, obtained a sort of <i>carte blanche</i> + loan from us at ten per cent. We were to deliver the stock in munitions of + war, as called for, which, you will 'observe, was selling our loan; for at + the bottom of all our romance lies business, business, business. Her + freedom secured, the new state accommodated us by taking two millions of 5 + per cent stock at 84. In all, about ten millions nominal capital, eight + millions cash, crossed the Atlantic while we were cool; but now that we + were heated by three hundred joint-stock companies, and the fire fanned by + seven hundred prospectuses, fresh loans were effected with a wider range + of territory and on a more important scale. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Brazil now got . . . 3,200,000 l. in two loans; + Colombia . . . . . . 4,750,000 l.; + Peru . . . . . . . . 1,366,000 l. in two loans; + Mexico . . . . . . . 6,400,000 l. in two loans; + Buenos Ayres . . . . 1,000,000 l.; +</pre> + <p> + and Guatemala, a state we never heard of till she wanted money, took a + million and a half. Besides these there were smaller loans, lent, not to + nations, but to tribes. So hot was our money in our pockets that we tried + 200,000 pounds on Patagonia. But the savages could not be got to nail us, + which was the more to be regretted, as we might have done a good stroke + with them; could have sent the stock out in fisherman's boots, cocked + hats, beads, Bibles, and army misfits. + </p> + <p> + Europe found out there existed an island overflowing with faith and + overburdened with money; she ran at us for a slice of the latter. We lent + Naples two millions and a half at 5 per cent stock 92 1/2. Portugal a + million and a half at 87. Austria three millions and a half at 82 1/2. + Denmark three millions and a half at 3 per cent stock 75 1/2. Then came a + <i>bonne bouche.</i> The subtle Greek had gathered from his western + visitors a notion of the contents of Thucydides, and he came to us for + sympathy and money to help him shake off the barbarians and their yoke, + and save the wreck of the ancient temples. The appeal was shrewdly + planned. England reads Thucydides, and skims Demosthenes, though Greece, + it is presumed, does not. The impressions of our boyhood fasten upon our + hearts, and our mature reason judges them like a father, not like a judge. + To sweep the Tartar out of the Peloponnese, and put in his place a free + press that should recall from the tomb that soul of freedom, and revive by + degrees that tongue of music—who can play Solomon when such a + proposal comes up for judgment? + </p> + <p> + “Give yourself no further concern about the matter,” said the lofty + Burdett, with a gentlemanlike wave of the hand; “your country shall be + saved.” + </p> + <p> + “In a few weeks,” said another statesman, “Cochrane will be at + Constantinople, and burn the port and its vessels. Having thus disarmed + invasion, he will land in the Morea and clear it of the Turks.” + </p> + <p> + Greece borrowed in two loans 2,800,000 pounds at 5 per cent. Russia (droll + juxtaposition!) drew up the rear. She borrowed three millions and a half, + but upon far more favorable terms than, with all our romance, we accorded + to “Graeculus esuriens.” The Greek stock ruled * from 56 1/2 to 59. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A corruption from the French verb “rouler.” + </pre> + <p> + Into these loans, and the multitudinous mines and miscellaneous + enterprises, gas, railroad, canal, steam, dock, provision, insurance, + milk, water, building, washing, money-lending, fishing, lottery, + annuities, herring-curing, poppy-oil, cattle, weaving, bog draining, + street-cleaning, house-roofing, old clothes exporting, steel-making, + starch, silk-worm, etc., etc., etc., companies, all classes of the + community threw themselves, either for investment or temporary + speculation, on the fluctuations of the share-market. One venture was + ennobled by a prince of the blood figuring as a director; another was + sanctified by an archbishop; hundreds were solidified by the best + mercantile names in the cities of London, Liverpool, and Manchester. + Princes, dukes, duchesses, stags, footmen, poets, philosophers, divines, + lawyers, physicians, maids, wives, widows, tore into the market, and + choked the Exchange up so tight that the brokers could not get in nor out, + and a bare passage had to be cleared by force and fines through a mass of + velvet, fustian, plush, silk, rags, lace, and broadcloth, that jostled and + squeezed each other in the struggle for gain. The shop-keeper flung down + his scales and off to the share-market; the merchant embarked his funds + and his credit; the clerk risked his place and his humble respectability. + High and low, rich and poor, all hurried round the Exchange, like midges + round a flaring gas-light, and all were to be rich in a day. + </p> + <p> + And, strange to say, all seemed to win and none to lose; for nothing was + at a discount except toil and self-denial, and the patient industry that + makes men rich, but not in a day. + </p> + <p> + One cold misgiving fell. The vast quantities of gold and silver that + Mexico, mined by English capital and machinery, was about to pour into our + ports, would so lower the price of those metals that a heavy loss must + fall on all who held them on a considerable scale at their present values + in relation to corn, land, labor and other properties and commodities. + </p> + <p> + “We must convert our gold,” was the cry. Others more rash said: “This is + premature caution—timidity. There is no gold come over yet; wait + till you learn the actual bulk of the first metallic imports.” “No, thank + you,” replied the prudent ones, “it will be too late then; when once they + have touched our shores, the fall will be rapid.” So they turned their + gold, whose value was so precarious, into that unfluctuating material, + paper. This solitary fear was soon swallowed up in the general confidence. + The king congratulated Parliament, and Parliament the king. Both houses + rang with trumpet notes of triumph, a few of which still linger in the + memories of living men. + </p> + <p> + 1. “The cotton trade and iron trade were never so flourishing.” + </p> + <p> + 2. “The exports surpassed by millions the highest figure recorded in' + history.” + </p> + <p> + 3. “The hum of industry was heard throughout the fields.” + </p> + <p> + 4. “Joy beamed in every face.” + </p> + <p> + 5. “The country now reaped in honor and repose all it had sown in courage, + constancy and wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + 6. “Our prosperity extended to all ranks of men, enhanced by those arts + which minister to human comfort, and those inventions by which man seems + to have obtained a mastery over Nature through the application of her own + powers.” + </p> + <p> + But one honorable gentleman informed the Commons that “distress had + vanished from the land,” * and in addressing the throne acknowledged a + novel embarrassment: “Such,” said he, “is the general prosperity of the + country, that I feel at a loss how to proceed; whether to give precedence + to our agriculture, which is the main support of the country, to our + manufactures, which have increased to an unexampled extent, or to our + commerce, which distributes them to the ends of the earth, finds daily new + outlets for their distribution, and new sources of national wealth and + prosperity.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “The poor ye shall have always with you.”—Chimerical + Evangelist. +</pre> + <p> + Our old bank did not profit by the golden shower. Mr. Hardie was old, too, + and the cautious and steady habits of forty years were not to be shaken + readily. He declined shares, refused innumerable discounts, and loans upon + scrip and invoices, and, in short, was behind the time. His bank came to + be denounced as a clog on commerce. Two new banks were set up in the town + to oil the wheels of adventure, on which he was a drag, and Hardie fell + out of the game. + </p> + <p> + He was not so old or cold as to be beyond the reach of mortification, and + these things stung him. One day he said fretfully to old Skinner, “It is + hardly worth our while to take down the shutters now, for anything we do.” + </p> + <p> + One afternoon two of his best customers, who were now up to their chins in + shares, came and solicited a heavy loan on their joint personal security. + Hardie declined. The gentlemen went out. Young Skinner watched them, and + told his father they went into the new bank, stayed there a considerable + time, and came out looking joyous. Old Skinner told Mr. Hardie. The old + gentleman began at last to doubt himself and his system. + </p> + <p> + “The bank would last my time,” said he, “but I must think of my son. I + have seen many a good business die out because the merchant could not keep + up with the times; and here they are inviting me to be director in two of + their companies—good mercantile names below me. It is very + flattering. I'll write to Dick. It is just he should have a voice; but, + dear heart! at his age we know beforehand he will be for galloping faster + than the rest. Well, his old father is alive to curb him.” + </p> + <p> + It was always the ambition of Mr. Richard Hardie to be an accomplished + financier. For some years past he had studied money at home and abroad—scientifically. + His father's connection had gained him a footing in several large + establishments abroad, and there he sat and worked <i>en amateur</i> as + hard as a clerk. This zeal and diligence in a young man of independent + means soon established him in the confidence of the chiefs, who told him + many a secret. He was now in a great London bank, pursuing similar + studies, practical and theoretical. + </p> + <p> + He received his father's letters sketching the rapid decline of the bank, + and finally a short missive inviting him down to consider an enlarged plan + of business. During the four days that preceded the young man's visit, + more than one application came to Hardie senior for advances on scrip, + cargoes coming from Mexico, and joint personal securities of good + merchants that were in the current ventures. Old Hardie now, instead of + refusing, detained the proposals for consideration. Meantime, he ordered + five journals daily instead of one, sought information from every quarter, + and looked into passing events with a favorable eye. The result was that + he blamed himself, and called his past caution timidity. Mr. Richard + Hardie arrived and was ushered into the bank parlor. After the first + affectionate greetings old Skinner was called in, and, in a little + pompous, good-hearted speech, invited to make one in a solemn conference. + The compliment brought the tears into the old man's eyes. Mr. Hardie + senior opened, showed by the books the rapid decline of business, pointed + to the rise of two new banks owing to the tight hand he had held + unseasonably, then invited the other two to say whether an enlarged system + was not necessary to meet the times, and submitted the last, proposals for + loans and discounts. “Now, sir, let me have your judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “After my betters, sir,” was old Skinner's reply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dick, have you formed any opinion on this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am extremely glad of it,” said the old gentleman, very sincerely, but + with a shade of surprise; “out with it, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + The young man thus addressed by his father would not have conveyed to us + the idea of “Dick.” His hair was brown; there were no wrinkles under his + eyes or lines in his cheek, but in his manner there was no youth whatever. + He was tall, commanding, grave, quiet, cold, and even at that age almost + majestic. His first sentence, slow and firm, removed the paternal notion + that a cipher or a juvenile had come to the council-table. + </p> + <p> + “First, sir, let me return to you my filial thanks for that caution which + you seem to think has been excessive. There I beg respectfully to differ + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it, Dick; but now you see it is time to relax, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The two old men stared at one another. The senile youth proceeded: “That + some day or other our system will have to be relaxed is probable, but just + now all it wants is—tightening.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dick? Skinner, the boy is mad. You can't have watched the signs of + the times.” + </p> + <p> + “I have, sir; and looked below the varnish.” + </p> + <p> + “To the point, then, Dick. There is a general proposal 'to relax our + system.' The boy uses good words, Skinner, don't he? and here are six + particulars over which you can cast your eye. Hand them to him, Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take things in that order,” said Richard, quietly running his eye + over the papers. There was a moment's silence. “It is proposed to connect + the bank with the speculations of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not fairly stated, Dick; it is too broad. We shall make a + selection; we won't go in the stream above ankle deep.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a resolution, sir, that has been often made but never kept—for + this reason: you can't sit on dry land and calculate the force of the + stream. It carries those who paddle in it off their feet, and then they + must swim with it or—sink.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, for Heaven's sake, no poetry here.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir,” said old Skinner, “remember, 'twas you brought the stream in.” + </p> + <p> + “More fool I. 'Flow on, thou shining Dick'; only the more figures of + arithmetic, and the fewer figures of speech, you can give old Skinner and + me, the more weight you will carry with us.” + </p> + <p> + The young man colored a moment, but never lost his ponderous calmness. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you figures in their turn, But we were to begin with the + general view. Half-measures, then, are no measures; they imply a + vacillating judgment; they are a vain attempt to make a pound of rashness + and a pound of timidity into two pounds of prudence. You permit me that + figure, sir; it comes from the summing-book. The able man of business + fidgets. He keeps quiet, or carries something out.” + </p> + <p> + Old Skinner rubbed his hands. “These are wise words, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “No, only clever ones. This is book-learning. It is the sort of wisdom you + and I have outgrown these forty years. Why, at his age I was choke-full of + maxims. They are good things to read; but act proverbs, and into the + Gazette you go. My faith in any general position has melted away with the + snow of my seventy winters.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, if it was established that all adders bite, would you refuse + to believe his adder would bite you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, if a single adder bit me, it would go farther to convince me that + the next adder would bite me too than if fifty young Buffons told me all + adders bite.” + </p> + <p> + The senile youth was disconcerted for a single moment. He hesitated. The + keys that the old man had himself said would unlock his judgment lay + beside him on the table. He could not help glancing slyly at them, but he + would not use them before their turn. His mind was methodical. His will + was strong in all things. He put his hand in his side-pocket, and drew out + a quantity of papers neatly arranged, tied, and indorsed. + </p> + <p> + The old men instantly bestowed a more watchful sort of attention on him. + </p> + <p> + “This, gentlemen, is a list of the joint-stock companies created last + year. What do you suppose is their number?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty, I'll be bound, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “More than that, Skinner. Say eighty.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Two hundred and forty-three, gentlemen. Of these some were +stillborn, but the majority hold the market. The capital proposed to +be subscribed on the sum total is two hundred and forty-eight +millions.” + </pre> + <p> + “Pheugh! Skinner!” + </p> + <p> + “The amount actually paid at present (chiefly in bank-notes) is stated at + 43,062,608 pounds, and the balance due at the end of the year on this set + of ventures will be 204,937,392 pounds or thereabouts. The projects of <i>this + year</i> have not been collected, but they are on a similar scale. Full a + third of the general sum total is destined to foreign countries, either in + loans or to work mines, etc., the return for which is uncertain and + future. All these must come to nothing, and ruin the shareholders that + way, or else must sooner or later be paid in specie, since no foreign + nation can use our paper, but must sell it to the Bank of England. We + stand, then, pledged to burst like a bladder, or to <i>export</i> in a few + months thrice as much specie as we possess. To sum up, if the country + could be sold to-morrow, with every brick that stands upon it, the + proceeds would not meet the engagements into which these joint-stock + companies have inveigled her in the course of twenty months. Viewed then, + in gross, under the test, not of poetry and prospectus, but of arithmetic, + the whole thing is a bubble.” + </p> + <p> + “A bubble?” uttered both the seniors in one breath, and almost in a + scream. + </p> + <p> + “But I am ready to test it in detail. Let us take three main features—the + share-market, the foreign loans, and the inflated circulation caused by + the provincial banks. Why do the public run after shares? Is it in the + exercise of a healthy judgment? No; a cunning bait has been laid for human + weakness. Transferable shares valued at 100 pounds can be secured and paid + for by small instalments of 5 pounds or less. If, then, his 100 pound + shares rise to 130 pounds each, the adventurer can sell at a nominal + profit of 30 per cent, but a real profit of 600 per cent on his actual + investment. This intoxicates rich and poor alike. It enables the small + capitalist to operate on the scale that belongs, in healthy times, to the + large capitalist; a beggar can now gamble like a prince; his farthings are + accepted as counters for sovereigns; but this is a distinct feature of all + the more gigantic bubbles recorded. Here, too, you see, is illusory credit + on a vast scale, with its sure consequence, inflated and fictitious + values; another bit of soap that goes to every bubble in history. Now for + the Transatlantic loans. I submit them to a simple test. Judge nations + like individuals. If you knew nothing of a man but that he had set up a + new shop, would you lend him money? Then why lend money to new republics + of whom you know nothing but that, born yesterday, they may die to-morrow, + and that they are exhausted by recent wars, and that, where responsibility + is divided, conscience is always subdivided?” + </p> + <p> + “Well said, Richard, well said.” + </p> + <p> + “If a stranger offered you thirty per cent, would you lend him your + money?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for I should know he didn't mean to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, these foreign negotiators offer nominally five per cent, but, + looking at the price of the stock, thirty, forty, and even fifty per cent. + Yet they are not so liberal as they appear; they could afford ninety per + cent. You understand me, gentlemen. Would you lend to a man that came to + you under an alias like a Newgate thief? Cast your eye over this + prospectus. It is the Poyais loan. There is no such place as Poyais.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a loan to an anonymous swamp by the Mosquito River. But Mosquito + suggests a bite. So the vagabonds that brought the proposal over put their + heads together as they crossed the Atlantic, and christened the place + Poyais; and now fools that are not fools enough to lend sixpence to + Zahara, are going to lend 200,000 pounds to rushes and reeds.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Richard, what are you talking about? 'The air is soft and balmy; the + climate fructifying; the soil is spontaneous'—what does that mean? + mum! mum! 'The water runs over sands of gold.' Why, it is a description of + Paradise. And, now I think of it, is not all this taken from John Milton?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. It is written by thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems there are tortoise-shell, diamonds, pearls—” + </p> + <p> + “In the prospectus, but not in the morass. It is a good, straightforward + morass, with no pretensions but to great damp. But don't be alarmed, + gentlemen, our countrymen's money will not be swamped there. It will all + be sponged up in Threadneedle Street by the poetic swindlers whose names, + or aliases, you hold in your hand. The Greek, Mexican, and Brazilian loans + may be translated from Prospectish into English thus: At a date when every + sovereign will be worth five to us in sustaining shriveling paper and + collapsing credit, we are going to chuck a million sovereigns into the + Hellespont, five million sovereigns into the Gulf of Mexico, and two + millions into the Pacific Ocean. Against the loans to the old monarchies + there is only this objection, that they are unreasonable; will drain out + gold when gold will be life-blood; which brings me, by connection, to my + third item—the provincial circulation. Pray, gentlemen, do you + remember the year 1793?” + </p> + <p> + For some minutes past a dead silence and a deep, absorbed attention had + received the young man's words; but that quiet question was like a great + stone descending suddenly on a silent stream. Such a noise, agitation, and + flutter. The old banker and his clerk both began to speak at once. + </p> + <p> + “Don't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, Mr. Richard, don't talk of 1793.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about 1793? You weren't born.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Richard, such a to-do, sir! 1800 firms in the Gazette. Seventy + banks stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “Nearer a hundred, Mr. Skinner. Seventy-one stopped in the provinces, and + a score in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, Mr. Richard knows everything, whether he was born or not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he doesn't, you old goose; he doesn't know how you and I sat looking + at one another, and pretending to fumble, and counting out slowly, waiting + sick at heart for the sack of guineas that was to come down by coach. If + it had not come we should not have broken, but we should have suspended + payment for twenty-four hours, and I was young enough then to have cut my + throat in the interval.” + </p> + <p> + “But it came, sir—it came, and you cried, 'Keep the bank open till + midnight!' and when the blackguards heard that, and saw the sackful of + gold, they crept away; they were afraid of offending us. Nobody came anigh + us next day. Banks smashed all round us like glass bottles, but Hardie + & Co. stood, and shall stand for ever and ever. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Who showed the white feather, Mr. Skinner? Who came creeping and + sniveling, and took my hand under the counter, and pressed it to give me + courage, and then was absurd enough to make apologies, as if sympathy was + as common as dirt? Give me your hand directly, you old—Hallo!” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, sir! God bless you! It is all right, sir. The bank is safe + for another fifty years. We have got Master Richard, and he has got a + head. O Gemini, what a head he has got, and the other day playing + marbles!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and we are interrupting him with our nonsense. Go on, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + Richard had secretly but fully appreciated the folly of the interruption. + His was a great mind, and moved in a sort of pecuniary ether high above + the little weaknesses my reader has observed in Hardie senior and old + Skinner. Being, however, equally above the other little infirmities of + fretfulness and fussiness, he waited calmly and proceeded coolly. + </p> + <p> + “What was the cause of the distress in 1793?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that was the puzzle—wasn't it, Skinner? We were never so + prosperous as that year. The distress came over us like a thunder-storm + all in a moment. Nobody knows the exact cause.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, it is as well known as any point of history + whatever. Some years of prosperity had created a spawn of country banks, + most of them resting on no basis; these had inflated the circulation with + their paper. A panic and a collapse of this fictitious currency was as + inevitable as the fall of a stone forced against nature into the air.” + </p> + <p> + “There <i>were</i> a great many petty banks, Richard, and, of course, + plenty of bad paper. I believe you are right. The causes of things were + not studied in those days as they are now.” + </p> + <p> + “All that we know now, sir, is to be found in books written long before + 1793.” + </p> + <p> + “Books! books!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; a book is not dead paper except to sleepy minds. A book is a + man giving you his best thoughts in his very best words. It is only the + shallow reader that can't learn life from genuine books. I'll back him who + studies them against the man who skims his fellow-creatures, and vice + versa. A single page of Adam Smith, studied, understood, and acted on by + the statesmen of your day, would have averted the panic of 1793. I have + the paragraph in my note-book. He was a great man, sir; oblige me, Mr. + Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir, certainly. 'Should the circulation of paper exceed the + value of the gold and silver of which it supplies the place, many people + would immediately perceive they had more of this paper than was necessary + for transacting their business at home; and, as they could not send it + abroad, bank paper only passing current where it is issued, there would be + a run upon the banks to the extent of this superfluous paper.'” + </p> + <p> + Richard Hardie resumed. “We were never so overrun with rotten banks as + now. Shoemakers, cheesemongers, grocers, write up 'Bank' over one of their + windows, and deal their rotten paper by the foolscap ream. The issue of + their larger notes is colossal, and renders a panic inevitable soon or + late; but, to make it doubly sure, they have been allowed to utter 1 pound + and 2 pound notes. They have done it, and on a frightful scale. Then, to + make it trebly sure, the just balance between paper and specie is + disturbed in the other scale as well as by foreign loans to be paid in + gold. In 1793 the candle was left unsnufled, but we have lighted it at + both ends and put it down to roast. Before the year ends, every sovereign + in the banks of this country may be called on to cash 30 pounds of paper—bank-paper, + share-paper, foolscap-paper, waste-paper. In 1793, a small excess of paper + over specie had the power to cause a panic and break some ninety banks; + but our excess of paper is far larger, and with that fatal error we have + combined foreign loans and three hundred bubble companies. Here, then, + meet three bubbles, each of which, unaided, secures a panic. Events + revolve, gentlemen, and reappear at intervals. The great French bubble of + 1719 is here to-day with the addition of two English tom-fooleries, + foreign loans and 1 pound notes. Mr. Law was a great financier. Mr. Law + was the first banker and the greatest. All mortal bankers are his pupils, + though they don't know it. Mr. Law was not a fool; his critics are. Mr. + Law did not commit one error out of six that are attributed to him by + those who judge him without reading, far less studying, his written works. + He was too sound and sober a banker to admit small notes. They were + excluded from his system. He found France on the eve of bankruptcy; in + fact, the state had committed acts of virtual bankruptcy. He saved her + with his bank. + </p> + <p> + “Then came his two errors, one remedial, the other fatal. No. 1, he + created a paper company and blew it up to a bubble. When the shares had + reached the skies, they began to come down, like stones, by an inevitable + law. No. 2, to save them from their coming fate, he propped them with his + bank. Overrating the power of governments, and underrating Nature's, he + married the Mississippi shares (at forty times their value) to his + banknotes by edict. What was the consequence? The bank paper, sound in + itself, became rotten by marriage. Nothing could save the share-paper. The + bank paper, making common cause with it, shared its fate. Had John Law let + his two tubs each stand on its own bottom, the shares would have gone back + to what they came from—nothing; the bank, based as it was on specie, + backed stoutly by the government, and respected by the people for great + national services, would have weathered the storm and lasted to this day. + But he tied his rickety child to his healthy child, and flung them into a + stormy sea, and told them to swim together: they sank together. Now + observe, sir, the fatal error that ruined the great financier in 1720 is + this day proposed to us. We are to connect our bank with bubble companies + by the double tie of loans and liability. John Law was sore tempted. The + Mississippi Company was his own child as well as the bank. Love of that + popularity he had drunk so deeply, egotism, and parental partiality, + combined to obscure that great man's judgment. But, with us, folly stands + naked on one side, bubbles in hand—common sense and printed + experience on the other. These six specimen bubbles here are not <i>our</i> + children. Let me see whose they are, aliases excepted.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, young gentleman, very good. Now it is my turn. I have got a + word or two to say on the other side. The journals, which are so seldom + agreed, are all of one mind about these glorious times. Account for that!” + </p> + <p> + “How can you know their minds, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “By their leading columns.” + </p> + <p> + “Those are no clue.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Do they think one thing and print another? Why should the + independent press do that? Nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir? Because they are bribed to print it, but they are not bribed to + think it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bribed? The English press bribed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not directly, like the English freeman. Oblige me with a journal or + two, no matter which; they are all tarred with the same stick in time of + bubble. Here, sir, are 50 pounds worth of bubble advertisements, yielding + a profit of say 25 pounds on this single issue. In this one are nearer 100 + pounds worth of such advertisements. Now is it in nature that a newspaper, + which is a trade speculation, should say the word that would blight its + own harvest? This is the oblique road by which the English press is + bribed. These leaders are mere echoes of to-day's advertisement sheet, and + bidders for to-morrow's.” + </p> + <p> + “The world gets worse every day, Skinner.” + </p> + <p> + “It gets no better,” replied Richard, philosophically. + </p> + <p> + “But, Richard, here is our county member, and ——, staid, sober + men both, and both have pledged their honor on the floor of the House of + Commons to the sound character of some of these companies.” + </p> + <p> + “They have, sir; but they will never redeem the said honor, for they are + known to be bribed, and not obliquely, by those very companies.” (The + price current of M. P. honor, in time of bubble, ought to be added to the + works of arithmetic.) “Those two Brutuses get 500 pounds apiece per annum + for touting those companies down at Stephen's. —— goes cheaper + and more oblique. He touts, in the same place, for a gas company, and his + house in the square flares from cellar to garret, gratis.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! and he talked of the light of conscience in his very last + speech. But this cannot apply to all. There is the archbishop; he can't + have sold his name to that company.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? He is over head and ears in debt.” + </p> + <p> + “But the duke, <i>he</i> can't have.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He is over head and ears in debt. Princes deep in debt by + misconduct, and bishops deep in ditto by ditto, are half-honest, needy + men; and half-honest, needy men are all to be bought and sold like hogs in + Smithfield, especially in time of bubble.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the world come to!” + </p> + <p> + “What it was a hundred years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I have got one pill left for him, Skinner. Here is the Chancellor of the + Exchequer, a man whose name stands for caution, has pronounced a panegyric + on our situation. Here are his words quoted in this leader; now listen: + 'We may safely venture to contemplate with instructive admiration the + harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its basis.' What do you say + to that?” + </p> + <p> + “I say it is one man's opinion versus the experience of a century. + Besides, that is a quotation, and may be a fraudulent one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. The speech was only delivered last Wednesday: we will refer to + it. Mum! mum! Ah, here it is. 'The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose and—' + mum! mum! ah—'I am of—o-pinion that—if, upon a fair + review of our situation, there shall appear to be nothing hollow in its + foundation, artificial in its superstructure, or flimsy in its general + results, we may safely venture to contemplate with instructive admiration + the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its basis.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! I quite agree with cautious Bobby. If it is not hollow, it + may be solid; if it is not a gigantic paper balloon, it may be a very fine + globe, and vice versa, which vice versa he in his heart suspects to be the + truth. You see, sir, the mangled quotation was a swindle, like the flimsy + superstructures it was intended to prop. The genuine paragraph is a fair + sample of Robinson, and of the art of withholding opinion by means of + expression. But as quoted, by a fraudulent suppression of one half, the + unbalanced half is palmed off as a whole, and an indecision perverted into + a decision. I might just as fairly cite him as describing our situation to + be 'hollow in its basis, artificial in its superstructure, flimsy in its + general result.' Since you value names, I will cite you one man that has + commented on the situation; not, like Mr. Robinson, by misty sentences, + each neutralizing the other, but by consistent acts: a man, gentlemen, + whose operations have always been numerous and courageous in less <i>prosperous</i> + times, yet now he is <i>out of everything</i> but a single insurance + company.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a gentleman; it is a blackguard,” said the exact youth. + </p> + <p> + “You excite my curiosity. Who is the capitalist, then, that stands aloof?” + </p> + <p> + “Nathan Meyer Rothschild.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil.” + </p> + <p> + Old Skinner started sitting. “Rothschild hanging back. Oh, master, for + Heavens sake don't let us try to be wiser than those devils of Jews. Mr. + Richard, I bore up pretty well against your book-learning, but now you've + hit me with a thunderbolt. Let us get in gold, and keep as snug as mice, + and not lend one of them a farthing to save them from the gallows. Those + Jews smell farther than a Christian can see. Don't let's have any more + 1793's, sir, for Heaven's sake. Listen to Mr. Richard; he has been abroad, + and come back with a head.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Skinner. You seem to possess private information, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “I employ three myrmidons to hunt it; it will be useful by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be now. Remark on these proposals.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, two of them are based on gold mines, shares at a fabulous + premium. Now no gold mine can be worked to a profit by a company. <i>Primo:</i> + Gold is not found in veins like other metals. It is an abundant metal made + scarce to man by distribution over a wide surface. The very phrase gold + mine is delusive. <i>Secundo:</i> Gold is a metal that cannot be worked to + a profit by a company for this reason: workmen will hunt it for others so + long as the daily wages average higher than the amount of metal they find + per diem; but, that Rubicon once passed, away they run to find gold for + themselves in some spot with similar signs; if they stay, it is to murder + your overseers and seize your mine. Gold digging is essentially an + individual speculation. These shares sell at 700 pounds apiece; a dozen of + them are not worth one Dutch tulip-root. Ah! here is a company of another + class, in which you have been invited to be director; they would have + given you shares and made you liable.” Mr. Richard consulted his + note-book. “This company, which 'commands the wealth of both Indies'—in + perspective—dissolved yesterday afternoon for want of eight guineas. + They had rented offices at eight guineas a week, and could not pay the + first week. 'Turn out or pay,' said the landlord, a brute absorbed in the + present, and with no faith in the glorious future. They offered him 1,500 + pounds worth of shares instead of his paltry eight guineas cash. On this + he swept his premises of them. What a godsend you would have been to these + Jeremy Diddlers, you and the ten thousand they would have bled you of.” + </p> + <p> + The old banker turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is nothing new, sir. <i>'To-morrow</i> the first lord of the + treasury calls at my house, and brings me 11,261 pounds 14s. 11 3/4d., + which is due to me from the nation at twelve of the clock on that day; you + couldn't lend me a shilling till then, could ye?' Now for the loans. + Baynes upon Haggart want 2,000 pounds at 5 per cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Good names, Richard, surely,” said old Hardie, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “They were; but there are no good names in time of bubble. The operations + are so enormous that in a few weeks a man is hollowed out and his frame + left standing. In such times capitalists are like filberts; they look all + nut, but half of them are dust inside the shell, and only known by + breaking. Baynes upon Haggart, and Haggart upon Baynes, the city is full + of their paper. I have brought some down to show it to you. A discounter, + who is a friend of mine, did it for them on a considerable scale at thirty + per cent discount (cast your eye over these bills, Haggart on Baynes). But + he has burned his fingers even at that, and knows it. So I am authorized + to offer all these to you at fifty per cent discount.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “If, therefore, you think of doing rotten apple upon rotten pear, + otherwise Haggart upon Baynes, why do it at five per cent when it is to be + had by the quire at fifty?” + </p> + <p> + “Take them out of my sight,” said old Hardie, starting up—“take them + all out of my sight. Thank God I sent for you. No more discussion, no more + doubt. Give me your hand, my son; you have saved the bank!” + </p> + <p> + The conference broke up with these eager words, and young Skinner retired + swiftly from the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + The next day Mr. Hardie senior came to a resolution which saddened poor + old Skinner. He called the clerks in and introduced them to Mr. Richard as + his managing partner. + </p> + <p> + “Every dog has his day,” said the old gentleman. “Mine has been a long + one. Richard has saved the bank from a fatal error; Richard shall conduct + it as Hardie & Son. Don't be disconsolate, Skinner; I'll look in on + you now and then.” + </p> + <p> + Hardie junior sent back all the proposals with a polite negative. He then + proceeded on a two-headed plan. Not to lose a shilling when the panic he + expected should come, and to make 20,000 pounds upon its subsiding. Hardie + & Son held Exchequer bills on rather a large scale. They were at half + a crown premium. He sold every one and put gold in his coffers. He + converted in the same way all his other securities except consols. These + were low, and he calculated they would rise in any general depreciation of + more pretentious investments. He drew out his balance, a large one, from + his London correspondent, and put his gold in his coffers. He drew a large + deposit from the Bank of England. Whenever his own notes came into the + bank, he withdrew them from circulation. “They may hop upon Hardie & + Son,” said he, “but they shan't run upon us, for I'll cut off their legs + and keep them in my safe.” + </p> + <p> + One day he invited several large tradesmen in the town to dine with him at + the bank. They came full of curiosity. He gave them a luxurious dinner, + which pleased them. After dinner he exposed the real state of the nation, + as he understood it. They listened politely, and sneered silently, but + visibly. He then produced six large packets of his banknotes; each packet + contained 3,000 pounds. Skinner, then present, enveloped these packets in + cartridge-paper, and the guests were requested to seal them up. This was + soon done. In those days a bunch of gigantic seals dangled and danced on + the pit of every man's stomach. The sealed packets went back into the + safe. + </p> + <p> + “Show us a sparkle o' gold, Mr. Richard,” said Meredith, linen-draper and + wag. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Skinner, oblige me by showing Mr. Meredith a little of your specie—a + few anti-bubble pills, eh! Mr. Meredith.” + </p> + <p> + Omnes. “Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Presently a shout from Meredith: “Boys, he has got it here by the bushel. + All new sovereigns. Don't any of ye be a linen-draper, if you have got a + chance to be a banker. How much is there here, Mr. Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “We must consult the books to ascertain that, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Must you? Then just turn your head away, Mr. Richard, and I'll put in a + claw.” + </p> + <p> + Omnes. “Haw! haw! ho!” + </p> + <p> + Richard Hardie resumed. “My precautions seem extravagant to you now, but + in a few months you will remember this conversation, and it will lead to + business.” The rest of the evening he talked of anything, everything, + except banking. He was not the man to dilute an impression. + </p> + <p> + Hardie junior was so confident in his reading and his reasonings that he + looked every day into the journals for the signs of a general collapse of + paper and credit; instead of which, public confidence seemed to increase, + not diminish, and the paper balloon, as he called it, dilated, not shrank; + and this went on for months. His gold lay a dead and useless stock, while + paper was breeding paper on every side of him. He suffered his share of + those mortifications which every man must look to endure who takes a + course of his own, and stems a human current. He sat somber and perplexed + in his bank parlor, doing nothing; his clerks mended pens in the office. + The national calamity so confidently predicted, and now so eagerly sighed + for, came not. + </p> + <p> + In other words, Richard Hardie was a sagacious calculator, but not a + prophet; no man is till afterward, and then nine out of ten are. At last + he despaired of the national calamity ever coming at all. So then, one + dark November day, an event happened that proved him a shrewd calculator + of probabilities in the gross, and showed that the records, of the past, + “studied” instead of “skimmed,” may in some degree counterbalance youth + and its narrow experience. Owing to the foreign loans, there were a great + many bills out against this country. Some heavy ones were presented, and + seven millions in gold taken out of the Bank of England and sent abroad. + This would have trickled back by degrees; but the suddenness and magnitude + of the drain alarmed the bank directors for the safety of the bank, + subject as it was by Mr. Peel's bill to a vast demand for gold. + </p> + <p> + Up to this period, though they had amassed specie themselves, they had + rather fed the paper fever in the country at large, but now they began to + take a wide and serious view of the grave contingencies around them. They + contracted their money operations, refused in two cases to discount corn, + and, in a word, put the screw on as judiciously as they could. But time + was up. Public confidence had reached its culminating point. The sudden + caution of the bank could not be hidden; it awoke prudence, and prudence + after imprudence drew terror at its heels. There was a tremendous run upon + the country banks. The smaller ones “smashed all around like glass + bottles,” as in 1793; the larger ones made gigantic and prolonged efforts + to stand, and generally fell at last. + </p> + <p> + Many, whose books showed assets 40s. in the pound, suspended payment; for + in a violent panic the bank creditors can all draw their balances in a few + hours or days, but the poor bank cannot put a similar screw on its + debtors. Thus no establishment was safe. Honor and solvency bent before + the storm, and were ranked with rottenness; and, as at the same time the + market price of securities sank with frightful rapidity, scarcely any + amount of invested capital was safe in the unequal conflict. + </p> + <p> + Exchequer bills went down to 60s. discount, and the funds rose and fell + like waves in a storm. + </p> + <p> + London bankers were called out of church to answer dispatches from their + country correspondents. + </p> + <p> + The Mint worked day and night, and coined a hundred and fifty thousand + sovereigns per diem for the Bank of England; but this large supply went + but a little way, since that firm had in reality to cash nearly all the + country notes that were cashed. + </p> + <p> + Post-chaises and four stood like hackney-coaches in Lombard Street, and + every now and then went rattling off at a gallop into the country with + their golden freight. In London, at the end of a single week, not an old + sovereign was to be seen, so fiercely was the old coinage swept into the + provinces, so active were the Mint and the smashers; these last drove a + roaring trade; for paper now was all suspected, and anything that looked + like gold was taken recklessly in exchange. + </p> + <p> + Soon the storm burst on the London banks. A firm known to possess half a + million in undeniable securities could not cash them fast enough to meet + the checks drawn on their counter, and fell. Next day, a house whose very + name was a rock suspended for four days. An hour or two later two more + went hopelessly to destruction. The panic rose to madness. Confidence had + no longer a clue, nor names a distinction. A man's enemies collected three + or four vagabonds round his door, and in another hour there was a run upon + him, that never ceased till he was emptied or broken. At last, as, in the + ancient battles, armies rested on their arms to watch a duel in which both + sides were represented, the whole town watched a run upon the great house + of Pole, Thornton & Co. The Bank of England, from public motives, + spiced of course with private interest, had determined to support Pole, + Thornton & Co., and so perhaps stem the general fury, for all things + have their turning-point. Three hundred thousand pounds were advanced to + Pole & Co., who with this aid and their own resources battled through + the week, but on Saturday night were drained so low that their fate once + more depended on the Bank of England. Another large sum was advanced them. + They went on; but, ere the next week ended, they succumbed, and universal + panic gained the day. + </p> + <p> + Climax of all, the Bank of England notes lost the confidence of the + public, and a frightful run was made on it. The struggle had been prepared + for, and was gigantic on both sides. Here the great hall of the bank, full + of panic-stricken citizens jostling one another to get gold for the notes + of the bank; there, foreign nations sending over ingots and coin to the + bank, and the Mint working night and day, Sunday and week-day, to turn + them into sovereigns to meet the run. Sovereigns or else half-sovereigns + were promptly delivered on demand. No hesitation or sign of weakness + peeped out; but under this bold and prudent surface, dismay, sickness of + heart, and the dread of a great humiliation. At last, one dismal evening, + this establishment, which at the beginning of the panic had twenty + millions specie, left off with about five hundred thousand pounds in coin, + and a similar amount in bullion. A large freight of gold was on the seas, + coming to their aid, and due, but not arrived; the wind was high; and in a + few hours the people would be howling round their doors again. They sent a + hasty message to the government, and implored them to suspend, by order in + council, the operation of Mr. Peel's bill for a few days. A plump negative + from Mr. Canning. + </p> + <p> + Then, being driven to expedients, they bethought them of a chest of 1 + pound notes that they had luckily omitted to burn. + </p> + <p> + Another message to the government, “May we use these?” + </p> + <p> + “As a temporary expedient, yes.” + </p> + <p> + The one-pound notes were whirling all over the country before daybreak, + and, marvelous anomaly, which took Richard Hardie by surprise, they oiled + the waves, the panic abated from that hour. The holders of country notes + took the 1 pound B. E. notes as cash with avidity. The very sight of them + piled on a counter stopped a run in more than one city. + </p> + <p> + The demand for gold at the Bank of England continued, but less fiercely; + and as the ingots still came tumbling in, and the Mint hailed sovereigns + on them, their stock of specie rose as the demand declined, and they came + out of their fiercest battle with honor. But, ere the tide turned, things + in general came to a pass scarcely known in the history of civilized + nations. Ladies and gentlemen took heirlooms to the pawnbrokers', and + swept their tills of the last coin. Not only was wild speculation, + hitherto so universal and ardent, snuffed out like a candle, but + investment ceased and commerce came to a stand-still. Bank stock, East + India stock, and, some days, consols themselves, did not go down; they + went out, were blotted from the book of business. No man would give them + gratis; no man would take them on any other terms. The brokers closed + their books; there were no buyers nor sellers. Trade was coming to the + same pass, except the retail business in eatables; and an observant + statesman and economist, that watched the phenomenon, pronounced that in + forty-eight hours more all dealings would have ceased between man and man, + or returned to the rude and primitive form of barter, or direct exchange + of men's several commodities, labor included. + </p> + <p> + Finally, things crept into their places; shades of distinction were drawn + between good securities and bad. Shares were forfeited, companies + dissolved, bladders punctured, balloons flattened, bubbles burst, and + thousands of families ruined—thousands of people beggared—and + the nation itself, its paper fever reduced by a severe bleeding, lay sick, + panting, exhausted, and discouraged for a year or two to await the eternal + cycle—torpor, prudence, health, plethora, blood-letting; torpor, + prudence, health, plethora, bloodletting, etc., etc., etc., etc., <i>in + secula seculorum.</i> + </p> + <p> + The journals pitched into “speculation.” + </p> + <p> + Three banks lay in the dust in the town of ——, and Hardie + & Son stood looking calmly down upon the ruins. + </p> + <p> + Richard Hardie had carried out his double-headed plan. + </p> + <p> + There was no run upon him—could not be one in the course of nature, + his balances were so low, and his notes were all at home. He created + artificially a run of a very different kind. He dined the same party of + tradesmen—all but one, who could not come, being at supper after + Polonius his fashion. After dinner he showed the packets still sealed, and + six more unsealed. “Here, gentlemen, is our whole issue.” There was a huge + wood fire in the old-fashioned room. He threw a packet of notes into it. A + most respectable grocer yelled and lost color: victim of his senses, he + thought sacred money was here destroyed, and his host a well-bred, and oh! + how plausible, maniac. The others derided him, and packet after packet fed + the flames. When two only were left, containing about five thousand pounds + between them, Hardie junior made a proposal that they should advertise in + their shop windows to receive Hardie's five-pound notes as five guineas in + payment for their goods. Observing a natural hesitation, he explained that + they would by this means, crush their competitors, and could easily clap a + price on their goods to cover the odd shillings. The bargain was soon + struck. Mr. Richard was a great man. All his guests felt in their secret + souls and pockets—excuse the tautology—that some day or other + they should want to borrow money of him. Besides, “crush their + competitors!” + </p> + <p> + Next day Mr. Richard loosed his hand and let a flock of his own bank-notes + fly (they were asked for earnestly every day). Some soon found their way + to the shops in question. The next day still more took wing and buzzed + about the shops. Presently other tradesmen, finding people rushed to the + shops in question, began to bid against them for Hardie's notes, a result + the long-headed youth had expected; and said notes went up to ten + shillings premium. Too calm and cold to be betrayed into deserting his + principles, he confined the issue within the bounds he had prescribed, and + when they were all out seldom saw one of them again. By this means he + actually lowered the Bank of England notes in public estimation, and set + his own high above them in the town of ——. Deposits came in. + Confidence unparalleled took the place of fear so far as he was concerned, + and he was left free to work the other part of his plan. + </p> + <p> + To the amazement and mystification of old Skinner, he laid out ten + thousand pounds in Exchequer bills, and followed this up by other large + purchases of paper, paper, nothing but paper. + </p> + <p> + Hardie senior was nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Are you true to your own theory, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + The youth explained to him that blind confidence always ends in blind + distrust, and then all paper becomes depreciated alike, but good paper is + sure to recover. “Sixty-two shillings discount, sir, is a ridiculous + decline of Exchequer bills. We are at peace, and elastic, and the + government is strong. My other purchases all rest upon certain + information, carefully and laboriously amassed while the world was so busy + blowing bubbles. I am now buying paper that is unjustly depreciated in + Panic, i.e., in the second act of that mania of which Bubble is the first + act.” He added: “When the herd buy, the price rises; when they sell, it + falls. To buy with them and sell with them is therefore to buy dear and + sell cheap. My game—and it is a game that reduces speculation to a + certainty—is threefold: + </p> + <p> + “First, never, at any price or under any temptation, buy anything that is + not as good as gold. + </p> + <p> + “Secondly, buy that sound article when the herd sells it. + </p> + <p> + “Thirdly, sell it when the herd buys it.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” said the old man, “I see what it is—you are a genius.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no use your denying it, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Common sense, sir, common sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but common sense carried to such a height as you do is genius.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, then I own to the genius of common sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I admire you, Richard—I am proud of you; but the bank has stood one + hundred and forty years, and never a genius in it;” the old man sighed. + </p> + <p> + Hardie senior, having relieved his mind of this vague misgiving, never + returned to it—probably never felt it again. It was one of those + strange flashes that cross a mind as a meteor the sky. + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman, having little to do, talked more than heretofore, and, + like fathers, talked about his son, and, unlike sons, cried him up at his + own expense. The world is not very incredulous; above all, it never + disbelieves a man who calls himself a fool. Having then gained the public + ear by the artifice of self-depreciation, he poured into it the praises of + Hardie junior. He went about telling how he, an old man, was all but + bubbled till this young Daniel came down and foretold all. Thus paternal + garrulity combined for once with a man's own ability to place Richard + Hardie on the pinnacle of provincial grandeur. + </p> + <p> + A few years more and Hardie senior died. (His old clerk, Skinner, followed + him a month later.) + </p> + <p> + Richard Hardie, now sole partner and proprietor, assumed a mode of living + unknown to his predecessors. He built a large, commodious house, and + entertained in the first style. The best families in the neighborhood + visited a man whose manner was quiet and stately, his income larger than + their own, and his house and table luxurious without vulgar pretensions, + and the red-hot gilding and glare with which the injudicious parvenu + brands himself and furniture. + </p> + <p> + The bank itself put on a new face. Twice as much glass fronted the street, + and a skylight was let into the ceiling: there were five clerks instead of + three; the new ones at much smaller salaries than the pair that had come + down from antiquity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + SUCH was Mr. Hardie at twenty-five, and his townspeople said: “If he is so + wise now he is a boy, what in Heaven's name will he be at forty?” To sixty + the provincial imagination did not attempt to follow his wisdom. He was + now past thirty, and behind the scenes of his bank was still the able + financier I have sketched. But in society he seemed another man. There his + characteristics were quiet courtesy, imperturbability, a suave but + impressive manner, vast information on current events, and no flavor + whatever of the shop. + </p> + <p> + He had learned the happy art, which might be called “the barrister's art,” + <i>hoc agendi,</i> of throwing the whole man into a thing at one time, and + out of it at another. In the bank and in his own study he was a devout + worshiper of Mammon; in society, a courteous, polished, intelligent + gentleman, always ready to sift and discuss any worthy topic you could + start except finance. There was some affectation in the cold and immovable + determination with which he declined to say three words about money. But + these great men act habitually on a preconceived system: this gives them + their force. + </p> + <p> + If Lucy Fountain had been one of those empty girls that were so rife at + the time, the sterling value of his conversation would have disgusted her, + and his calm silence where there was nothing to be said (sure proof of + intelligence) would have passed for stupidity with her. But she was + intelligent, well used to bungling, straightforward flattery, and to smile + with arch contempt at it, and very capable of appreciating the more subtle + but less satirical compliment a man pays a pretty girl by talking sense to + her; and, as it happened, her foible favored him no less than did her + strong points. She attached too solid a value to manner; and Mr. Hardie's + manner was, to her fancy, male perfection. It added to him in her + estimation as much as David Dodd's defects in that kind detracted from the + value of his mind and heart. + </p> + <p> + To this favorable opinion Mr. Hardie responded in full. + </p> + <p> + He had never seen so graceful a creature, nor so young a woman so + courteous and high-bred. + </p> + <p> + He observed at once, what less keen persons failed to discover, that she + was seldom spontaneous or off her guard. He admired her the more. He had + no sympathy with the infantine in man or woman. “She thinks before she + speaks,” said he, with a note of admiration. On the other hand, he missed + a trait or two the young lady possessed, for they happened to be virtues + he had no eye for; but the sum total was most favorable; in short, it was + esteem at first sight. + </p> + <p> + As a cobweb to a cabbage-net, so fine was Mrs. Bazalgette's reticulation + compared with Uncle Fountain's. She invited Mr. Hardie to stay a fortnight + with her, commencing just one day before Lucy's return. She arranged a + round of gayety to celebrate the double event. What could be more simple? + Yet there was policy below. The whirl of pleasure was to make Lucy forget + everybody at Font Abbey; to empty her heart, and pave Mrs. B.'s + candidate's way to the vacancy. Then, she never threw Mr. Hardie at Lucy's + head, contenting herself with speaking of him with veneration when Lucy + herself or others introduced his name. She was always contriving to throw + the pair together, but no mortal could see her hand at work in it. <i>Bref,</i> + a she-spider. The first day or two she watched her niece on the sly, just + to see whether she regretted Font Abbey, or, in other words, Mr. Talboys. + Well acquainted with all the subtle signs by which women read one another, + she observed with some uneasiness that Lucy appeared somewhat listless and + pensive at times, when left quite to herself. Once she found her with her + cheek in her hand, and, by the way the young lady averted her head and + slid suddenly into distinct cheerfulness, suspected there must have been + tears in her eyes, but could not be positive. Next, she noticed with + satisfaction that the round of gayety, including, as it did, morning rides + as well as evening dances, dissipated these little reveries and languors. + She inferred that either there was nothing in them but a sort of sediment + of <i>ennui,</i> the natural remains of a visit to Font Abbey, or that, if + there was anything more, it had yielded to the active pleasures she had + provided, and to the lady's easy temper, and love of society, “the only + thing she loves, or ever will,” said Mrs. B., assuming prophecy. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, how superior Mr. Hardie's conversation is. He interests one in + topics that are unbearable generally; politics now. I thought I abhorred + them, but I find it was only those little paltry Whig and Tory squabbles + that wearied me. Mr. Hardie's views are neither Whig nor Tory; they are + patriotic, and sober, and large-minded. He thinks of the country. I can + take some interest in what he calls politics.” + </p> + <p> + “And, pray, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, aunt, the liberation of commerce from its fetters for one thing. I + can contrive to be interested in that, because I know England can be great + only by commerce. Then the education of all classes, because without that + England cannot be enlightened or good.” + </p> + <p> + “He never says a word to me about such things,” said Mrs. Bazalgette; “I + suppose he thinks they are above poor me.” She delivered this with so + admirable an imitation of pique, that the courtier was deceived, and + applied butter to “a fox's wound.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, aunt. Consider; if that was it, he would not waste them on me, who + am so inferior to you in sagacity. More likely he says, 'This young lady + has not yet completed her education; I will sprinkle a little good sense + among her frivolous accomplishments.' Whatever the motive, I am very much + obliged to Mr. Hardie. A man of sense is so refreshing after—(full + stop). What do you think of his voice?” + </p> + <p> + “His voice? I don't remember anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do—you must; it is a very remarkable one; so mellow, so + quiet, yet so modulated.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do remember now; it is rather a pleasant voice—for a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather a pleasant voice!” repeated Lucy, opening her eyes; “why, it is a + voice to charm serpents.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! It has not charmed him one yet, you see.” + </p> + <p> + This speech was not in itself pellucid; but these sweet ladies among + themselves have so few topics compared with men, and consequently beat + their little manor so often, that they seize a familiar idea, under any + disguise, with the rapidity of lightning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, charmers are charm-proof,” replied Lucy; “that is the only reason + why. I am sure of that.” Then she reflected awhile. “It is his natural + voice, is it not? Did you ever hear him speak in any other? Think.” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must be a good man. Apropos, is Mr. Hardie a good man, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course he is.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of any scandal against him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mean your negative goodness. You never heard anything against + <i>me</i> out of doors.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and are you not a good girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Me, aunt? Why, you know I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing, aunt,” exclaimed Lucy, “and the good are never + nullities. Then I am not open, which is a great fault in a character. But + I can't help it! I can't! I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you need not break your heart for that. You will get over it before + you have been married a year. Look at me; I was as shy as any of you at + first going off, but now I can speak my mind; and a good thing too, or + what would become of me among the selfish set?” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning me, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Divide it among you. Come, this is idle talk. Men's voices, and + whether they are good, bad, or indifferent, as if that mattered a pin, + provided their incomes are good and their manners endurable. I want a + little serious conversation with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” and Lucy colored faintly; “with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “We go to the Hunts' ball the day after to-morrow, Lucy; I suppose you + know that? Now what on earth am I to wear? that is the question. There is + no time to get a new dress made, and I have not got one—” + </p> + <p> + “That you have not worn at least once.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of them twice and three times;” and the B looked aghast at the state + of nudity to which she was reduced. Lucy sidled toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Since you consult me, dear, I advise you to wear what I mean to wear + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what a capital idea! then we shall pass for sisters. I dare say I + have got some old thing or other that will match yours; but you had better + tell me at once what you do mean to wear.” + </p> + <p> + “A gown, a pair of gloves, and a smirk”; and with this heartless + expression of nonchalance Lucy glided away and escaped the impending + shower. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the selfishness of these girls!” cried the deserted one. “I have got + her a husband to her taste, so now she runs away from me to think of him.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment she looked at the enormity from another point of view, and + then with this burst of injured virtue gave way to a steady complacency. + </p> + <p> + “She is caught at last. She notices his very voice. She fancies she cares + for politics—ha! ha! She is gone to meditate on him—could not + bear any other topic—would not even talk about dress, a thing her + whole soul was wrapped up in till now. I have known her to go on for hours + at a stretch about it.” + </p> + <p> + There are people with memories so constructed that what they said, and + another did not contradict or even answer, seems to them, upon retrospect, + to have been delivered by that other person, and received in dead silence + by themselves. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lucy was in her own room and the door bolted. + </p> + <p> + So she was the next day; and uneasy Mrs. Bazalgette came hunting her, and + tapped at the door after first trying the handle, which in Lucy's creed + was not a discreet and polished act. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody admitted here till three o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “It is me, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “So I conclude,” said Lucy gayly. “'Me' must call again at three, whoever + it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” said Aunt Bazalgette, and flounced off in a pet. + </p> + <p> + At three Dignity dissolved in curiosity, and Mrs. Bazalgette entered her + niece's room in an ill-temper; it vanished like smoke at the sight of two + new dresses, peach-colored and <i>glacees,</i> just finished, lying on the + bed. An eager fire of questions. “Where did you get them? which is mine? + who made them?” + </p> + <p> + “A new dressmaker.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what a godsend to poor us! Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see how you like her work before I tell you. Try this one on.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette tried on her dress, and was charmed with it. Lucy would + not try on hers. She said she had done so, and it fitted well enough for + her. + </p> + <p> + “Everything fits you, you witch,” replied the B. “I must have this woman's + address; she is an angel.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked pleased. “She is only a beginner, but desirous to please you; + and 'zeal goes farther than talent,' says Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd! Ah! by-the-by, that reminds me—I am so glad you mentioned + his name. Where does the woman live?” + </p> + <p> + “The woman, or, as some consider her, the girl, lives at present with a + charming person called by the world Mrs. Bazalgette, but by the dressmaker + her sweet little aunt—” (kiss) (kiss) (kiss); and Lucy, whose + natural affection for this lady was by a certain law of nature heated + higher by working day and night for her in secret, felt a need of + expansion, and curled, round her like a serpent with a dove's heart. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette did what you and I, manly reader, should have been apt to + omit. She extricated herself, not roughly, yet a little hastily—like + a water-snake gliding out of the other sweet serpent's folds.* Sacred + dress being present, she deemed caresses frivolous—and ill-timed. + “There, there, let me alone, child, and tell me all about it directly. + 'What put it into your head? Who taught you? Is this your first attempt? + Have you paid for the silk, or am I to? Do tell me quick; don't keep me on + thorns!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Here flashes on the cultivated mind the sprightly couplet, + + “Oh, that I had my mistress at this bay, + To kiss and clip me—till I run away.” + + SHAKESPEARE.—Venus and Adonis. +</pre> + <p> + Lucy answered this fusillade in detail. “You know, aunt, dressmakers bring + us their failures, and we, by our hints, get them made into successes.” + </p> + <p> + “So we do.” + </p> + <p> + “So I said to myself, 'Now why not bring a little intelligence to bear at + the beginning, and make these things right at once?' Well, I bought + several books, and studied them, and practiced cutting out, in large + sheets of brown paper first; next I ventured a small flight—I made + Jane a gown.” + </p> + <p> + “What! your servant?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I had a double motive; first attempts are seldom brilliant, and it + was better to fail in merino, and on Jane, than on you, madam, and in + silk. In the next place, Jane had been giving herself airs, and objecting + to do some work of that kind for me, so I thought it a good opportunity to + teach her that dignity does not consist in being disobliging. The poor + girl is so ashamed now: she comes to me in her merino frock, and pesters + me all day to let her do things for me. I am at my wit's end sometimes to + invent unreal distresses, like the writers of fiction, you know; and, + aunty, dear, you will not have to pay for the stuff: to tell you the real + truth, I overheard Mr. Bazalgette say something about the length of your + last dressmaker's bill, and, as I have been very economical at Font Abbey, + I found I had eighteen pounds to spare, so I said nothing, but I thought + we will have a dress apiece that <i>nobody</i> shall have to pay for.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen pounds? These two lovely dresses, lace, trimmings, and all, for + eighteen pounds!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, aunt. So you see those good souls that make our dresses have imposed + upon us without ceremony: they would have been twenty-five pounds apiece; + now would they not?” + </p> + <p> + “At least. Well, you are a clever girl. I might as well try on yours, as + you won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, dear.” + </p> + <p> + She tried on Lucy's gown, and, as before, got two looking-glasses into a + line, twisted and twirled, and inspected herself north, south, east and + west, and in an hour and a half resigned herself to take the dress off. + Lucy observed with a sly smile that her gayety declined, and she became + silent and pensive. + </p> + <p> + “In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed, All mortals enjoy + the sweet blessing of rest,” a phantom stood at Lucy's bedside and + fingered her. She awoke with a violent scream, the first note of which + pierced the night's dull ear, but the second sounded like a wail from a + well, being uttered a long way under the bedclothes. “Hush! don't be a + fool,” cried the affectionate phantom; and kneaded the uncertain form + through the bedclothes; “fancy screeching so at sight of me!” Then + gradually a single eye peeped timidly between two white hands that held + the sheets ready for defense like a shield. + </p> + <p> + “B—b—but you are all in white,” gulped Lucy, trembling all + over; for her delicate fibers were set quivering, and could not be stilled + by a word, fingered at midnight all in a moment by a shape. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what color should I be—in my nightgown?” snapped the specter. + “What color is yours?” and she gave Lucy a little angry pull—“and + everybody else's?” + </p> + <p> + “But at the dead of night, aunt, and without any warning—it's + terrible. Oh dear!” (another little gulp in the throat, exceeding pretty). + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, be yourself,” said the specter, severely; “you used not to be so + selfish as to turn hysterical when your aunt came to you for advice.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy had to do a little. “Forgive, blessed shade!” She apologized, crushed + down her obtrusive, egotistical tremors, and vibrated to herself. + </p> + <p> + Placable Aunt Bazalgette accepted her excuses, and opened the business + that brought her there. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't leave my bed at this hour for nothing, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “N—no, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” continued Mrs. Bazalgette, deepening, “there is a weight on my + mind.” + </p> + <p> + Up sat Lucy in the bed, and two sapphire eyes opened wide and made terror + lovely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt, what have you been doing? It is remorse, then, that will not + let you sleep. Ah! I see! your flirtations—your flirtations—this + is the end of them.” + </p> + <p> + “My flirtations!” cried the other, in great surprise. “I never flirt. I + only amuse myself with them.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *In strict grammar this “them” ought to refer to + “flirtations;” but Lucy's aunt did not talk strict grammar. + Does yours? +</pre> + <p> + “You—never—flirt? Oh! oh! oh! Mr. Christopher, Mr. Horne, Sir + George Healey, Mr. M'Donnell, Mr. Wolfenton, Mr. Vaughan—there! oh, + and Mr. Dodd!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at all events, it's not for any of those fools I get out of my bed + at this time of night. I have a weight on my mind; so do be serious, if + you can. Lucy, I tried all yesterday to hide it from myself, but I cannot + succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “What, dear aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “That your gown fits me ever so much better than my own.” She sighed + deeply. + </p> + <p> + Lucy smiled slyly; but she replied, “Is not that fancy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Lucy, no,” was the solemn reply; “I have tried to shut my eyes to it, + but I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems. Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Now do be serious; it is no laughing matter. How unfortunate I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Take my gown; I can easily alter yours to fit me, if + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of + that.” N. B—She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace,” said Lucy, soothingly. “Leave all + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it on.” + It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and opened + Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with Lucy's aid, + and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a child with a new + toy. + </p> + <p> + Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs. Bazalgette + looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the ghostly robe which + had caused her such a fright. + </p> + <p> + “Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!” cried Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, does not every lady wear lace on her nightgown?” was the tranquil + reply. “What is that on yours, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “A little misery of Valenciennes an inch broad; but this is Mechlin—superb! + delicious! Well, aunt, you are a sincere votary of the graces; you put on + fine things because they are fine things, not with the hollow motive of + dazzling society; you wear Mechlin, not for <i>eclat,</i> but for Mechlin. + Alas! how few, like you, pursue quite the same course in the dark that + they do in the world's eye.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't moralize, dear; unhook me!” + </p> + <p> + After breakfast Mrs. Bazalgette asked Lucy how long she could give her to + choose which of the two gowns to take, after all. + </p> + <p> + “Till eight o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette breathed again. She had thought herself committed to No. + 2, and No. 1 was beginning to look lovely in consequence. At eight, the + choice being offered her with impenetrable nonchalance by Lucy, she took + Lucy's without a moment's hesitation, and sailed off gayly to her own room + to put it on, in which progress the ample peach-colored silk held out in + both hands showed like Cleopatra's foresail, and seemed to draw the dame + along. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, too, was happy—demurely; for in all this business the female + novice, “la ruse sans le savoir,” had outwitted the veteran. Lucy had + measured her whole aunt. So she made dress A for her, but told her she was + to have dress B. This at once gave her desires a perverse bent toward her + own property, the last direction they could have been warped into by any + other means; and so she was deluded to her good, and fitted to a hair, + soul and body. + </p> + <p> + Going to the ball, one cloud darkened for an instant the matron's mind. + </p> + <p> + “I am so afraid they will see it only cost nine pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Enfant!” replied Lucy, “aetat. 20.” At the ball Mr. Hardie and Lucy + danced together, and were the most admired couple. + </p> + <p> + The next day Mr. Hardie announced that he was obliged to curtail his visit + and go up to London. Mrs. Bazalgette remonstrated. Mr. Hardie apologized, + and asked permission to make out the rest of his visit on his return. Mrs. + B. accorded joyfully, but Lucy objected: “Aunt, don't you be deluded into + any such arrangement; Mr. Hardie is liable to another fortnight. We have + nothing to do with his mismanagement. He comes to spend a fortnight with + us: he tries, but fails. I am sorry for Mr. Hardie, but the engagement + remains in full force. I appeal to you, Mr. Bazalgette, you are so exact.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see myself how he can get out of it with credit,” said + Bazalgette, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I am happy to find that my duty is on the side of my inclination,” said + Mr. Hardie. He smiled, well pleased, and looked handsomer than ever. + </p> + <p> + They all missed him more or less, but nobody more than Lucy. His + conversation had a peculiar charm for her. His knowledge of current events + was unparalleled; then there was a quiet potency in him she thought very + becoming in a man; and then his manner. He was the first of our + unfortunate sex who had reached beau ideal. One was harsh, another + finicking; a third loud; a fourth enthusiastic; a fifth timid; and all + failed in tact except Mr. Hardie. Then, other male voices were imperfect; + they were too insignificant or too startling, too bass or too treble, too + something or too other. Mr. Hardie's was a mellow tenor, always modulated + to the exact tone of good society. Like herself, too, he never laughed + loud, seldom out; and even his smiles, like her own, did not come in + unmeaning profusion, so they told when they did come. + </p> + <p> + The Bazalgettes led a very quiet life for the next fortnight, for Mrs. + Bazalgette was husbanding invitations for Mr. Hardie's return. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette yawned many times during this barren period, but with + considerate benevolence she shielded Lucy from <i>ennui.</i> Lucy was a + dressmaker, gifted, but inexperienced; well, then, she would supply the + latter deficiency by giving her an infinite variety of alterations to make + in a multitude of garments. There are egotists who charge for tuition, but + she would teach her dear niece gratis. A mountain of dresses rose in the + drawing-room, a dozen metamorphoses were put in hand, and a score more + projected. + </p> + <p> + “She pulled down, she built up, she rounded the angular, and squared the + round.” And here Mr. Bazalgette took perverse views and misbehaved. He was + a very honest man, but not a refined courtier. He seldom interfered with + these ladies, one way or other, except to provide funds, which + interference was never snubbed; for was he not master of the house in that + sense? But, having observed what was going on day after day in the + drawing-room or workshop, he walked in and behaved himself like a brute. + </p> + <p> + “How much a week does she give you, Lucy?” said he, looking a little red. + </p> + <p> + Lucy opened her eyes in utter astonishment, and said nothing; her very + needle and breath were suspended. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette shrugged her shoulders to Lucy, but disdained words. Mr. + Bazalgette turned to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “I have often recommended economy to you, Jane, I need not say with what + success; but this sort of economy is not for your credit or mine. If you + want to add a dressmaker to your staff—with all my heart. Send for + one when you like, and keep her to all eternity. But this young lady is + our ward, and I will not have her made a servant of for your convenience.” + </p> + <p> + “Put your work down, dear,” said Mrs. Bazalgette resignedly. “He does not + understand our affection, nor anything else except pounds, shillings and + pence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes I do. I can see through varnished selfishness for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly ought to be a judge of the unvarnished article,” retorted + the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years,” rejoined the + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt! Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, rising and clasping her hands; + if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a misunderstanding, or + an angry word between those I esteem; it would make me too miserable; and, + dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people be happy in their own way, or you + will be sure to make them unhappy. My aunt and I understand one another + better than you do.” + </p> + <p> + “She understands you, my poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so well as I do her. But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to do + these bagatelles for her. It is my doing from the first, not hers; she did + not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for the Hunts' + ball. So, you see—” + </p> + <p> + “That is another matter; all ladies play at work. But you are in for <i>three + months' hard labor.</i> Look at that heap of vanity. She is making a + lady's-maid of you. It is unjust. It is selfish. It is improper. It is not + for my credit, of which I am more jealous than coquettes are of theirs; + besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I don't make a parade as she + does, that I am not fond of you. I have a great deal more real affection + for you than she has, and so you will find if we are ever put to the + test.” + </p> + <p> + At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing. But “la rusee + sans le savoir” turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke with a + certain emotion which was not ordinary in him. She instantly went to him + with both hands gracefully extended. “I do think you have an affection for + me. If you really have, show it me <i>some other way,</i> and not by + making me unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will, Lucy. Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to + argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a minute. + There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one selfish person + or other; you were born for it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field, + escorted with amenity by the courtier. In the passage she suddenly dropped + forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to kiss. He kissed + it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in friendly accents, that + she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling inarticulately, to his foreign + loans and things. + </p> + <p> + The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady stopped + her with a lofty gesture. + </p> + <p> + “My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on as + if nothing had happened.” + </p> + <p> + Happy philosophy. + </p> + <p> + Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls + plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon post brought letters that furnished some excitement. Mr. + Hardie announced his return, and Captain Kenealy accepted an invitation + that had been sent to him two days before. But this was not all. Mrs. + Bazalgette, with something between a laugh and a crow, handed Lucy a + letter from Mr. Fountain, in which that diplomatic gentleman availed + himself of her kind invitation, and with elephantine playfulness proposed, + as he could not stay a month with her, to be permitted to bring a friend + with him for a fortnight. This friend had unfortunately missed her through + absence from his country-house at the period of her visit to Font Abbey, + and had so constantly regretted his ill fortune that he (Fountain) had + been induced to make this attempt to repair the calamity. His friend's + name was Talboys; he was a gentleman of lineage, and in his numerous + travels had made a collection of foreign costumes which were really worth + inspecting, and, if agreeable to Mrs. Bazalgette, he should send them on + before by wagon, for no carriage would hold them. + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored on reading this letter, for it repeated a falsehood that had + already made her blush. The next moment, remembering how very keenly her + aunt must be eying her, and reading her, she looked straight before her, + and said coldly, “Uncle Fountain ought to be welcome here for his courtesy + to you at Font Abbey, but I think he takes rather a liberty in proposing a + stranger to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather a liberty? Say a very great liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, aunt, why not write back that any friend of his would be + welcome, but that the house is full? You have only room for Uncle + Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not true, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, with sudden dignity. + </p> + <p> + Lucy was staggered and abashed at this novel objection; recovering, she + whined humbly, “but it is very nearly true.” + </p> + <p> + It was plain Lucy did not want Mr. Talboys to visit them. This decided + Mrs. Bazalgette to let his dresses and him come. He would only be a foil + to Mr. Hardie, and perhaps bring him on faster. Her decision once made on + the above grounds, she conveyed it in characteristic colors. “No, my love; + where I give my affection, there I give my confidence. I have your word + not to encourage this gentleman's addresses, so why hurt your uncle's + feelings by closing my door to his friend? It would be an ill compliment + to you as well as to Mr. Fountain; he shall come.” + </p> + <p> + Her postscript to Mr. Fountain ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “Your friend would have been welcome independently of the foreign + costumes; but as I am a very candid little woman, I may as well tell you + that, now you <i>have</i> excited my curiosity, he will be a great deal + more welcome with them than without them.” + </p> + <p> + And here I own that I, the simpleminded, should never have known all that + was signified in these words but for the comment of John Fountain, Esq. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Talboys,” said he. “My bait has taken. You must pack up + these gimcracks at once and send them off, or she'll smile like a marble + Satan in your face, and stick you full of pins and needles.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked the + pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see something. + She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two ponies—a + cream-colored and a bay. “Oh, you loves!” cried the virgin, passionately, + and blushed with pleasure. Her heart was very accessible—to + quadrupeds. + </p> + <p> + “Now you are to choose which of these you will have.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some other + way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice pony you had + at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect ponies for you. These + have both a reputation. Which will you have?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of + galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the best + brute of the two.” + </p> + <p> + “What, without my habit?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be.” + </p> + <p> + Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies in + turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally she + dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom held the + ponies for final judgment. + </p> + <p> + “The bay is rather the best goer, dear,” said she, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored one. + He is so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! here's a little goose. Why, they are to ride, not to wear. + Come, I see you are in a difficulty. Take them both to the stable, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” cried Lucy. “Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, don't tempt me to be so + wicked.” Then she put both her fingers in her ears and screamed, “Take the + bay darling out of my sight, and leave the cream-colored love.” And as she + persisted in this order, with her fingers in her ears, and an inclination + to stamp with her little feet, the bay disappeared and color won the day. + </p> + <p> + Then she dropped suddenly like a cypress toward Mr. Bazalgette, which + meant “you can kiss me.” This time it was her cheek she proffered, all + glowing with exercise and innocent excitement. + </p> + <p> + Captain Kenealy was the first arrival: a well-appointed soldier; eyes + equally bright under calm and excitement, mustache always clean and + glossy; power of assent prodigious. He looked so warlike, and was so + inoffensive, that he was in great request for miles and miles round the + garrison town of ——. The girls, at first introduction to him, + admired him, and waited palpitating to be torn from their mammas, and + carried half by persuasion, half by force, to their conqueror's tent; but + after a bit they always found him out, and talked before, and at, and + across this ornament as if it had been a bronze Mars, or a mustache-tipped + shadow. This the men viewing from a little distance envied the gallant + captain, and they might just as well have been jealous of a hair-dresser's + dummy. + </p> + <p> + One eventful afternoon, Mrs. Bazalgette and Miss Fountain walked out, + taking the gallant captain between them as escort. Reginald hovered on the + rear. Kenealy was charmingly equipped, and lent the party a luster. If he + did not contribute much to the conversation, he did not interrupt it, for + the ladies talked through him as if he had been a column of red air. Sing, + muse, how often Kenealy said “yaas” that afternoon; on second thoughts, + don't. I can weary my readers without celestial aid: Toot! toot! toot! + went a cheerful horn, and the mail-coach came into sight round a corner, + and rolled rapidly toward them. Lucy looked anxiously round, and warned + Master Reginald of the danger now impending over infants. The terrible + child went instantly (on the “vitantes stulti vitia” principle) clean off + the road altogether into the ditch, and clayed (not pipe) his trousers to + the knee. As the coach passed, a gentleman on the box took off his hat to + the ladies and made other signs. It was Mr. Hardie. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette proposed to return home to receive him. They were about a + mile from the house. They had not gone far before the rear-guard + intermitted blackberrying for an instant, and uttered an eldrich screech; + then proclaimed, “Another coach! another coach!” It was a light break + coming gently along, with two showy horses in it, and a pony trotting + behind. + </p> + <p> + At one and the same moment Lucy recognized a four-footed darling, and the + servant recognized her. He drew up, touched his hat, and inquired + respectfully whether he was going right for Mr. Bazalgette's. Mrs. + Bazalgette gave him directions while Lucy was patting the pony, and + showering on him those ardent terms of endearment some ladies bestow on + their lovers, but this one consecrated to her trustees and quadrupeds. In + the break were saddles, and a side-saddle, and other caparisons, and a + giant box; the ladies looked first at it, and then through Kenealy at one + another, and so settled what was inside that box. + </p> + <p> + They had not walked a furlong before a traveling-carriage and four horses + came dashing along, and heads were put out of the window, and the postboys + ordered to stop. Mr. Talboys and Mr. Fountain got out, and the carriage + was sent on. Introductions took place. Mrs. Bazalgette felt her spirits + rise like a veteran's when line of battle is being formed. She was one of + those ladies who are agreeable or disagreeable at will. She decided to + charm, and she threw her enchantment over Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. + Coming with hostile views, and therefore guilty consciences, they had + expected a cold welcome. They received a warm, gay, and airy one. After a + while she maneuvered so as to get between Mr. Fountain and Captain + Kenealy, and leave Lucy to Mr. Talboys. She gave her such a sly look as + she did it. It implied, “You will have to tell me all he says to you while + we are dressing.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys inquired who was Captain Kenealy. He learned by her answer + that that officer had arrived to-day, and she had no previous acquaintance + with him. + </p> + <p> + Whatever little embarrassment Lucy might feel, remembering her equestrian + performance with Mr. Talboys and its cause, she showed none. She began + about the pony, and how kind of him it was to bring it. “And yet,” said + she, “if I had known, I would not have allowed you to take the trouble, + for I have a pony here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was sorry for that, but he hoped she would ride his now and + then, all the same. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course. My pony here is very pretty. But a new friend is not like + an old friend.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was gratified on more accounts than one by this speech. It + gave him a sense of security. She had no friend about her now she had + known as long as she had him, and those three months of constant intimacy + placed him above competition. His mind was at ease, and he felt he could + pop with a certainty of success, and pop he would, too, without any + unnecessary delay. + </p> + <p> + The party arrived in great content and delectation at the gates that led + to the house. “Stay!” said Mrs. Bazalgette; “you must come across the way, + all of you. Here is a view that all our guests are expected to admire. + Those, that cry out 'Charming! beautiful! Oh, I never!' we take them in + and make them comfortable. Those that won't or can't ejaculate—” + </p> + <p> + “You put them in damp beds,” said Mr. Fountain, only half in jest. + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that, sir—we flirt with them, and disturb the placid + current of their hearts forever and ever. Don't we, Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “You know best, aunt,” said Lucy, half malice, half pout. The others + followed the gay lady, and, when the view burst, ejaculated to order. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Fountain stood ostentatiously in the middle of the road, with his + legs apart, like him of Rhodes. “I choose the alternative,” cried he. + “Sooner than pretend I admire sixteen plowed fields and a hill as much as + I do a lawn and flower-beds, I elect to be flirted, and my what do ye call + 'em?—my stagnant current—turned into a whirlpool.” Ere the + laugh had well subsided, caused by this imitation of Hercules and his + choice, he struck up again, “Good news for you, young gentleman; I smell a + ball; here is a fiddle-case making for this hospitable mansion.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “I never ordered any musician to come here.” + </p> + <p> + A tall but active figure came walking light as a feather, with a large + carpet-bag on his back, a boy behind carrying a violin-case. + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored and lowered her eyes, but never said a word. + </p> + <p> + The young man came up to the gate, and then Mr. Talboys recognized him. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a single moment, then turned and came to the group and took + off his hat to the ladies. It was David Dodd! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + THE new guest's manner of presenting himself with his stick over his + shoulder, and his carpet-bag on his back, subjected him to a battery of + stares from Kenealy, Talboys, Fountain, and abashed him sore. + </p> + <p> + This lasted but a moment. He had one friend in the group who was too true + to her flirtations while they endured, and too strong-willed, to let her + flirtee be discouraged by mortal. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is Mr. Dodd,” cried she, with enthusiasm, and she put forth both + hands to him, the palms downward, with a smiling grace. “Surely you know + Mr. Dodd,” said she, turning round quickly to the gentlemen, with a smile + on her lip, but a dangerous devil in her eye. + </p> + <p> + The mistress of the house is all-powerful on these occasions. Messrs. + Talboys and Fountain were forced to do the amiable, raging within; Lucy + anticipated them; but her welcome was a cold one. Says Mrs. Bazalgette, + tenderly, “And why do you carry that heavy bag, when you have that great + stout lad with you? I think it is his business to carry it, not yours”; + and her eyes scathed the boy, fiddle and all. + </p> + <p> + All the time she was saying this David was winking to her, and making + faces to her not to go on that tack. His conduct now explained his + pantomime. “Here, youngster,” said he, “you take these things in-doors, + and here is your half-crown.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy averted her head, and smiled unobserved. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the lad was out of hearing, David continued: “It was not worth + while to mortify him. The fact is, I hired him to carry it; but, bless + you, the first mile he began to go down by the head, and would have + foundered; so we shifted our cargoes.” This amused Kenealy, who laughed + good-humoredly. On this, David laughed for company. + </p> + <p> + “There,” cried his inamorata, with rapture, “that is Mr. Dodd all over; + thinks of everybody, high or low, before himself.” There was a grunt + somewhere behind her; her quick ear caught it; she turned round like a + thing on a pivot, and slapped the nearest face. It happened to be + Fountain's; so she continued with such a treacle smile, “Don't you + remember, sir, how he used to teach your cub mathematics gratis?” The + sweet smile and the keen contemporaneous scratch confounded Mr. Fountain + for a second. As soon as he revived he said stiffly, “We can all + appreciate Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus established her Adonis on a satisfactory footing, she broke + out all over graciousness again, and, smiling and chatting, led her guests + beneath the hospitable roof. + </p> + <p> + But one of these guests did not respond to her cheerful strain. The Norman + knight was full of bitterness. Mr. Talboys drew his friend aside and + proposed to him to go back again. The senior was aghast. “Don't be so + precipitate,” was all that he could urge this time. “Confound the fellow! + Yes, if that is the man she prefers to you, I will go home with you + to-morrow, and the vile hussy shall never enter my doors again.” + </p> + <p> + In this mind the pair went devious to their dressing-rooms. + </p> + <p> + One day a witty woman said of a man that “he played the politician about + turnips and cabbages.” That might be retorted (by a snob and brute) on her + own sex in general, and upon Mrs. Bazalgette in particular. This sweet + lady maneuvered on a carpet like Marlborough on the south of France. She + was brimful of resources, and they all tended toward one sacred object, + getting her own way. She could be imperious at a pinch and knock down + opposition; but she liked far better to undermine it, dissolve it, or + evade it. She was too much of a woman to run straight to her <i>je-le-veux,</i> + so long as she could wind thitherward serpentinely and by detour. She + could have said to Mr. Hardie, “You will take down Lucy to dinner,” and to + Mr. Dodd, “You will sit next me”; but no, she must mold her males—as + per sample. + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Fountain she said, “Your friend, I hear, is of old family.” + </p> + <p> + “Came in with the Conqueror, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he shall take me down: that will be the first step toward conquering + me—ha! ha!” Fountain bowed, well pleased. + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Hardie she said, “Will you take down Lucy to-day? I see she enjoys + your conversation. Observe how disinterested I am.” + </p> + <p> + Hardie consented with twinkling composure. + </p> + <p> + Before dinner she caught Kenealy, drew him aside, and put on a long face. + “I am afraid I must lose you to-day at dinner. Mr. Dodd is quite a + stranger, and they all tell me I must put him at his ease. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you had better get next Lucy, as you can't have me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas.” + </p> + <p> + “And, Captain Kenealy, you are my aid-de-camp. It is a delightful post, + you know, and rather a troublesome one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas.” + </p> + <p> + “You must help me be kind to this sailor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas. He is a good fellaa. Carried the baeg for the little caed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “And didn't maind been laughed at.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that shows how intelligent you must be,” said the wily one; “the + others could not comprehend the trait. Well, you and I must patronize him. + Merit is always so dreadfully modest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas.” + </p> + <p> + This arrangement was admirable, but human; consequently, not without a + flaw. Uncle Fountain was left to chance, like the flying atoms of + Epicurus, and chance put him at Bazalgette's right hand save one. From + this point his inquisitive eye commanded David Dodd and Mrs. Bazalgette, + and raked Lucy and her neighbors, who were on the opposite side of the + table. People who look, bent on seeing everything, generally see + something; item, it is not always what they would like to see. + </p> + <p> + As they retired to rest for the night, Mr. Fountain invited his friend to + his room. + </p> + <p> + “We shall not have to go home. I have got the key to our antagonist. Young + Dodd is <i>her</i> lover.” Talboys shook his head with cool contempt. + “What I mean is that she has invited him for her own amusement, not her + niece's. I never saw a woman throw herself at any man's head as she did at + that sailor's all dinner. Her very husband saw it. He is a cool hand, that + Bazalgette; he only grinned, and took wine with the sailor. He has seen a + good many go the same road—soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tai—” + </p> + <p> + Talboys interrupted him. “I really must call you to order. You are + prejudiced against poor Mrs. Bazalgette, and prejudice blinds everybody. + Politeness required that she should show some attention to her neighbor, + but her principal attention was certainly not bestowed on Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain was surprised. “On whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to tell the truth, on your humble servant.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain stared. “I observed she did not neglect you; but when she turned + to Dodd her face puckered itself into smiles like a bag.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not see it, and I was nearer her than you,” said Talboys coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But I was in front of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a mile off.” There being no jurisconsult present to explain to these + two magistrates that if fifty people don't see a woman pucker her face + like a bag, and one does see her p. h. f. l. a. b., the affirmative + evidence preponderates, they were very near coming to a quarrel on this + grave point. It was Fountain who made peace. He suddenly remembered that + his friend had never been known to change an opinion. “Well,” said he, + “let us leave that; we shall have other opportunities of watching Dodd and + her; meantime I am sorry I cannot convince you of my good news, for I have + some bad to balance it. You have a rival, and he did not sit next Mrs. + Bazalgette.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray may I ask whom he did sit next?” sneered Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “He sat—like a man who meant to win—by the girl herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then it is that sing-song captain you fear, sir?” drawled Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, no more than I dread the <i>epergne.</i> Try the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Mr. Hardie? Why, he is a banker.” + </p> + <p> + “And a rich one.” + </p> + <p> + “She would never marry a banker.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not, if she were uninfluenced; but we are not at Talboys Court or + Font Abbey now. We have fallen into a den of <i>parvenues.</i> That Hardie + is a great catch, according to their views, and all Mrs. Bazalgette's + influence with Lucy will be used in his favor. + </p> + <p> + “I think not. She spoke quite slightingly of him to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she? Then that puts the matter quite beyond doubt. Why should she + speak slightingly of him? Bazalgette spoke to me of him with grave + veneration. He is handsome, well behaved, and the girl talked to him + nineteen to the dozen. Mrs. Bazalgette could not be sincere in underrating + him. She undervalued him to throw dust in your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't say it is; but this woman will do it; she is as artful as a fox. + She hoodwinked even me for a moment. I really did not see through her + feigned politeness in letting you take her down to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake her character entirely. She is coquettish, and not so + well-bred as her niece, but artful she is not. In fact, there is almost a + childish frankness about her.” + </p> + <p> + At this stroke of observation Fountain burst out laughing bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Talboys turned pale with suppressed ire, and went on doggedly: “You are + mistaken in every particular. Mrs. Bazalgette has no fixed views for her + niece, and I by no means despair of winning her to my side. She is + anything but discouraging.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hardie is a new acquaintance, and Miss Fountain told me herself she + preferred old friends to new. She looked quite conscious as she said it. + In a word, Mr. Dodd is the only rival I have to fear—good-night;” + and he went out with a stately wave of the hand, like royalty declining + farther conference. Mr. Fountain sank into an armchair, and muttered + feebly, “Good-night.” There he sat collapsed till his friend's retiring + steps were heard no more; then, springing wildly to his feet, he relieved + his swelling mind with a long, loud, articulated roar of Anglo-Saxon, + “Fool! dolt! coxcomb! noodle! puppy! ass!!!!” + </p> + <p> + Did ye ever read “Tully 'de Amicitia'?” + </p> + <p> + David Dodd was saved from misery by want of vanity. His reception at the + gate by Miss Fountain was cool and constrained, but it did not wound him. + For the last month life had been a blank to him. She was his sun. He saw + her once more, and the bare sight filled him with life and joy. His was + naturally a sanguine, contented mind. Some lovers equally ardent would + have seen more to repine at than to enjoy in the whole situation; not so + David. She sat between Kenealy and Hardie, but her presence filled the + whole room, and he who loved her better than any other had the best right + to be happy in the place that held her. He had only to turn his eyes, and + he could see her. What a blessing, after a month of vacancy and darkness. + This simple idolatry made him so happy that his heart overflowed on all + within reach. He gave Mrs. Bazalgette answers full of kindness and arch + gayety combined. He charmed an old married lady on his right. His was the + gay, the merry end of the table, and others wished themselves up at it. + </p> + <p> + After the ladies had retired, his narrative powers, <i>bonhomie</i> and + manly frankness soon told upon the men, and peals of genuine laughter + echoed up to the very drawing-room, bringing a deputation from the kitchen + to the keyhole, and irritating the ladies overhead, who sat trickling + faint monosyllables about their three little topics. + </p> + <p> + Lucy took it philosophically. “Now those are the good creatures that are + said to be so unhappy without us. It was a weight off their minds when the + door closed on our retiring forms—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “It was a restraint taken off them, my dear,” said Mrs. Mordan, a starched + dowager, stiffening to the naked eye as she spoke. “When they laugh like + that, they are always saying something improper.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the wicked things,” replied Lucy, mighty calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew what they are saying,” said eagerly another young lady; + then added, “Oh!” and blushed, observing her error mirrored in all eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lucy the Clement instructed her out of the depths of her own experience in + impropriety. “They swear. That is what Mrs. Mordan means,” and so to the + piano with dignity. + </p> + <p> + Presently in came Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Mrs. Bazalgette asked the + former a little crossly how he could make up his mind to leave the gay + party downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was only that fellow Dodd. The dog is certainly very amusing, but + 'there's metal more attractive here.'” + </p> + <p> + Coffee and tea were fired down at the other gentlemen by way of hints; but + Dodd prevailed over all, and it was nearly bedtime when they joined the + ladies. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys had an hour with Lucy, and no rival by to ruffle him. + </p> + <p> + Next day a riding-party was organized. Mr. Talboys decided in his mind + that Kenealy was even less dangerous than Hardie, so lent him the quieter + of his two nags, and rode a hot, rampageous brute, whose very name was + Lucifer, so that will give you an idea. The grooms had driven him with a + kicking-strap and two pair of reins, and even so were reluctant to drive + him at all, but his steady companion had balanced him a bit. Lucy was to + ride her old pony, and Mrs. Bazalgette the new. The horses came to the + door; one of the grooms offered to put Lucy up. Talboys waved him loftily + back, and then, strange as it may appear, David, for the first time in his + life, saw a gentleman lift a lady into the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Lucy laid her right hand on the pommel and resigned her left foot; Mr. + Talboys put his hand under that foot and heaved her smoothly into the + saddle. “That is clever,” thought simple David; “that chap has got more + pith in his arm than one would think.” They cantered away, and left him + looking sadly after them. It seemed so hard that another man should have + her sweet foot in his hand, should lift her whole glorious person, and + smooth her sacred dress, and he stand by helpless; and then the + indifference with which that man had done it all. To him it had been no + sacred pleasure, no great privilege. A sense of loneliness struck chill on + David as the clatter of her pony's hoofs died away. He was in the house; + but in that house was a sort of inner circle, of which she was the center, + and he was to be outside it altogether. + </p> + <p> + Liable to great wrath upon great occasions, he had little of that small + irritability that goes with an egotistical mind and feminine fiber, so he + merely hung his head, blamed nobody, and was sad in a manly way. While he + leaned against the portico in this dejected mood, a little hand pulled his + coat-tail. It was Master Reginald, who looked up in his face, and said + timidly, “Will you play with me?” The fact is, Mr. Reginald's natural + audacity had received a momentary check. He had just put this same + question to Mr. Hardie in the library, and had been rejected with + ignominy, and recommended to go out of doors for his own health and the + comfort of such as desired peaceable study of British and foreign + intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “That I will, my little gentleman,” said David, “if I know the game.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't care what it is, so that it is fun. What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “David Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is yours?” + </p> + <p> + “What, don't—you—know??? Why, Reginald George Bazalgette. I am + seven. I am the eldest. I am to have more money than the others when papa + dies, Jane says. I wonder when he will die.” + </p> + <p> + “When he does you will lose his love, and that is worth more than his + money; so you take my advice and love him dearly while you have got him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I like papa very well. He is good-natured all day long. Mamma is so + ill-tempered till dinner, and then they won't let me dine with her; and + then, as soon as mamma has begun to be good-tempered upstairs in the + drawing-room, my bedtime comes directly; it's abominable!!” The last word + rose into a squeak under his sense of wrong. + </p> + <p> + David smiled kindly: “So it seems we all have our troubles,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What! have you any troubles?” and Reginald opened his eyes in wonder. He + thought size was an armor against care. + </p> + <p> + “Not so many as most folk, thank God, but I have some,” and David sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if I was as big as you, I'd have no troubles. I'd beat everybody + that troubled me, and I would marry Lucy directly”; and at that beloved + name my lord falls into a reverie ten seconds long. + </p> + <p> + David gave a start, and an ejaculation rose to his lips. He looked down + with comical horror upon the little chubby imp who had divined his + thought. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reginald soon undeceived him. “She is to be my wife, you know. Don't + you think she will make a capital one?” Before David could decide this + point for him, the kaleidoscopic mind of the terrible infant had taken + another turn. “Come into the stable-yard; I'll show you Tom,” cried young + master, enthusiastically. Finally, David had to make the boy a kite. When + made it took two hours for the paste to dry; and as every ten minutes + spent in waiting seemed an hour to one of Mr. Reginald's kidney, as the + English classics phrase it, he was almost in a state of frenzy at last, + and flew his new kite with yells. But after a bit he missed a familiar + incident; “It doesn't tumble down; my other kites all tumble down.” + </p> + <p> + “More shame for them,” said David, with a dash of contempt, and explained + to him that tumbling down is a flaw in a kite, just as foundering at sea + is a vile habit in a ship, and that each of these descents, however + picturesque to childhood's eye, implies a construction originally + derective, or some little subsequent mismanagement. It appeared by + Reginald's retort that when his kite tumbled he had the tumultuous joy of + flying it again, but, by its keeping the air like this, monotony reigned; + so he now proposed that his new friend should fasten the string to the + pump-handle, and play at ball with him beneath the kite. The good-natured + sailor consented, and thus the little voluptuary secured a terrestrial and + ever-varying excitement, while occasional glances upward soothed him with + the mild consciousness that there was his property still hovering in the + empyrean; amid all which, poor love-sick David was seized with a desire to + hear the name of her he loved, and her praise, even from these small lips. + “So you are very fond of Miss Lucy?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Reginald, dryly, and said no more; for it is a + characteristic of the awfu' bairn to be mute where fluency is required, + voluble where silence. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why you love her so much,” said David, cunningly. Reginald's + face, instead of brightening with the spirit of explanation, became + instantly lack-luster and dough-like; for, be it known, to the everlasting + discredit of human nature, that his affection and matrimonial intentions, + as they were no secret, so they were the butt of satire from grown-up + persons of both sexes in the house, and of various social grades; down to + the very gardener, all had had a fling at him. But soon his natural + cordiality gained the better of that momentary reserve. “Well, I'll tell + you,” said he, “because you have behaved well all day.” + </p> + <p> + David was all expectation. + </p> + <p> + “I like her because she has got red cheeks, and does whatever one asks + her.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, breadth of statement! Why was not David one of your repeaters? He + would have gone and told Lucy. I should have liked her to know in what + grand primitive colors peach-bloom and queenly courtesy strike what Mr. + Tennyson is pleased to call “the deep mind of dauntless infancy.” But + David Dodd was not a reporter, and so I don't get my way; and how few of + us do! not even Mr. Reginald, whose joyous companionship with David was + now blighted by a footman. At sight of the coming plush, “There, now!” + cried Reginald. He anticipated evil, for messages from the ruling powers + were nearly always adverse to his joys. The footman came to say that his + master would feel obliged if Mr. Dodd would step into his study a minute. + </p> + <p> + David went immediately. + </p> + <p> + “There, now!” squeaked Reginald, rising an octave. “I'm never happy for + two hours together.” This was true. He omitted to add, “Nor unhappy for + one.” The dear child sought comfort in retaliation. He took stones and + pelted the footman's retiring calves. His admirers, if any, will be glad + to learn that this act of intelligent retribution soothed his deep mind a + little. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bazalgette had been much interested by David's conversation the last + night, and, hearing he was not with the riding-party, had a mind to chat + with him. David found him in a magnificent study, lined with books, and + hung with beautiful maps that lurked in mahogany cylinders attached to the + wall; and you pulled them out by inserting a brass-hooked stick into their + rings, and hauling. Mr. Bazalgette began by putting him a question about a + distant port to which he had just sent out some goods. David gave him full + information. Began, seaman-like, with the entrance to the harbor, and told + him what danger his captain should look out for in running in, and how to + avoid it; and from that went to the character of the natives, their tricks + upon the sailors, their habits, tastes, and fancies, and, entering with + intelligence into his companion's business, gave him some very shrewd + hints as to the sort of cargo that would tempt them to sell the very rings + out of their ears. Succeeding so well in this, Mr. Bazalgette plied him on + other points, and found him full of valuable matter, and, by a rare union + of qualities, very modest and very frank. “Now I like this,” said Mr. + Bazalgette, cheerfully. “This is a return to old customs. A century or two + ago, you know, the merchant and the captain felt themselves parts of the + same stick, and they used to sit and smoke together before a voyage, and + sup together after one, and be always putting their heads together; but of + late the stick has got so much longer, and so many knots between the + handle and the point, that we have quite lost sight of one another. Here + we merchants sit at home at ease, and send you fine fellows out among + storms and waves, and think more of a bale of cotton spoiled than of a + captain drowned.” + </p> + <p> + David. “And we eat your bread, sir, as if it dropped from the clouds, and + quite forget whose money and spirit of enterprise causes the ship to be + laid on the stocks, and then built, and then rigged, and then launched, + and then manned, and then sailed from port to port.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, if you eat our bread, we eat your labor, your skill, your + courage, and sometimes your lives, I am sorry to say. Merchants and + captains ought really to be better acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said David, “now you mention it, you are the first merchant + of any consequence I ever had the advantage of talking with.” + </p> + <p> + “The advantage is mutual, sir; you have given me one or two hints I could + not have got from fifty merchants. I mean to coin you, Captain Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + David laughed and blushed. “I doubt it will be but copper coin if you do. + But I am not a captain; I am only first mate.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so! Why, how comes that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I went to sea very young, but I wasted a year or two in + private ventures. When I say wasted, I picked up a heap of knowledge that + I could not have gained on the China voyage, but it has lost me a little + in length of standing; but, on the other hand, I have been very lucky; it + is not every one that gets to be first mate at my age; and after next + voyage, if I can only make a little bit of interest, I think I shall be a + captain. No, sir, I wish I was a captain; I never wished it as now;” and + David sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Mr. Bazalgette, and took a note. + </p> + <p> + He then showed David his maps. David inspected them with almost boyish + delight, and showed the merchant the courses of ships on Eastern and + Western voyages, and explained the winds and currents that compelled them + to go one road and return another, and in both cases to go so wonderfully + out of what seems the track as they do. <i>Bref,</i> the two ends of the + mercantile stick came nearer. + </p> + <p> + “My study is always open to you, Mr. Dodd, and I hope you will not let a + day pass without obliging me by looking in upon me.” + </p> + <p> + David thanked him, and went out innocently unconscious that he had + performed an unparalleled feat. In the hall he met Captain Kenealy, who, + having received orders to amuse him, invited him to play at billiards. + David consented, out of good-nature, to please Kenealy. Thus the whole day + passed, and <i>les facheux</i> would not let him get a word with Lucy. + </p> + <p> + At dinner he was separated from her, and so hotly and skillfully engaged + by Mrs. Bazalgette that he had scarcely time to look at his idol. After + dinner he had to contest her with Mr. Talboys and Mr. Hardie, the latter + of whom he found a very able and sturdy antagonist. Mr. Hardie had also + many advantages over him. First, the young lady was not the least shy of + Mr. Hardie, but the parting scene beyond Royston had put her on her guard + against David, and her instinct of defense made her reserved with him. + Secondly, Mrs. Bazalgette was perpetually making diversions, whose double + object was to get David to herself and leave Lucy to Mr. Hardie. + </p> + <p> + With all this David found, to his sorrow, that, though he now lived under + the same roof with her, he was not so near her as at Font Abbey. There was + a wall of etiquette and of rivals, and, as he now began to fear, of her + own dislike between them. To read through that mighty transparent jewel, a + female heart, Nauta had recourse—to what, do you think? To + arithmetic. He set to work to count how many times she spoke to each of + the party in the drawing-room, and he found that Mr. Hardie was at the + head of the list, and he was at the bottom. That might be an accident; + perhaps this was his black evening; so he counted her speeches the next + evening. The result was the same. Droll statistics, but sad and convincing + to the simple David. His spirits failed him; his aching heart turned cold. + He withdrew from the gay circle, and sat sadly with a book of prints + before him, and turned the leaves listlessly. In a pause of the + conversation a sigh was heard in the corner. They all looked round, and + saw David all by himself, turning over the leaves, but evidently not + inspecting them. + </p> + <p> + A sort of flash of satirical curiosity went from eye to eye. + </p> + <p> + But tact abounded at one end of the room, if there was a dearth of it at + the other. + </p> + <p> + <i>La rusee sans le savoir</i> made a sign to them all to take no notice; + at the same time she whispered: “Going to sea in a few days for two years; + the thought will return now and then.” Having said this with a look at her + aunt, that, Heaven knows how, gave the others the notion that it was to + Mrs. Bazalgette she owed the solution of David's fit of sadness, she + glided easily into indifferent topics. So then the others had a momentary + feeling of pity for David. Miss Lucy noticed this out of the tail of her + eye. + </p> + <p> + That night David went to bed thoroughly wretched. He could not sleep, so + he got up and paced the deck of his room with a heavy heart. At last, in + his despair, he said, “I'll fire signals of distress.” So he sat down and + took a sheet of paper, and fired: “Nothing has turned as I expected. She + treats me like a stranger. I seem to drop astern instead of making any + way. Here are three of us, I do believe, and all seem preferred to your + poor brother; and, indeed, the only thing that gives me any hope is that + she seems too kind to be in earnest, for it is not in her angelic nature + to be really unkind; and what have I done? Eve, dear, such a change from + what she was at Font Abbey, and that happy evening when she came and drank + tea with us, and lighted our little garden up, and won your heart, that + was always a little set against her. Now it is so different that I sit and + ask myself whether all that is not a dream. Can anyone change so in one + short month? I could not. But who knows? perhaps I do her wrong. You know + I never could read her at home without your help, and, dear Eve, I miss + you now from my side most sadly. Without you I seem to be adrift, without + rudder or compass.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he could not sleep, he dressed himself, and went out at four + o'clock in the morning. He roamed about with a heavy heart; at last he + bethought him of his fiddle. Since Lucy's departure from Font Abbey this + had been a great solace to him. It was at once a depository and vent to + him; he poured out his heart to it and by it; sometimes he would fancy, + while he played, that he was describing the beauties of her mind and + person; at others, regretting the sad fate that separated him from her; + or, hope reviving, would see her near him, and be telling her how he loved + her; and, so great an inspirer is love, he had invented more than one + clear melody during the last month, he who up to that time had been + content to render the thoughts of others, like most fiddlers and + composers. + </p> + <p> + So he said to himself, “I had better not play in the house, or I shall + wake them out of their first sleep.” + </p> + <p> + He brought out his violin, got among some trees near the stable-yard, and + tried to soothe his sorrowful heart. He played sadly, sweetly and + dreamingly. He bade the wooden shell tell all the world how lonely he was, + only the magic shell told it so tenderly and tunefully that he soon ceased + to be alone. The first arrival was on four legs: Pepper, a terrier with a + taste for sounds. Pepper arrived cautiously, though in a state of profound + curiosity, and, being too wise to trust at once to his ears, avenue of + sense by which we are all so much oftener deceived than by any other, he + first smelled the musician carefully and minutely all round. What he + learned by this he and his Creator alone know, but apparently something + reassuring; for, as soon as he had thoroughly snuffed his Orpheus, he took + up a position exactly opposite him, sat up high on his tail, cocked his + nose well into the air, and accompanied the violin with such vocal powers + as Nature had bestowed on him. Nor did the sentiment lose anything, in + intensity at all events, by the vocalist. If David's strains were + plaintive, Pepper's were lugubrious; and what may seem extraordinary, so + long as David played softly the Cerberus of the stableyard whined + musically, and tolerably in tune; but when he played loud or fast poor + Pepper got excited, and in his wild endeavors to equal the violin vented + dismal and discordant howls at unpleasantly short intervals. All this + attracted David's attention, and he soon found he could play upon Pepper + as well as the fiddle, raising him and subduing him by turns; only, like + the ocean, Pepper was not to be lulled back to his musical ripple quite so + quickly as he could be lashed into howling frenzy. + </p> + <p> + While David was thus playing, and Pepper showing a fearful broadside of + ivory teeth, and flinging up his nose and sympathizing loudly and with a + long face, though not perhaps so deeply as he looked, suddenly rang behind + David a chorus of human chuckles. David wheeled, and there were six young + women's faces set in the foliage and laughing merrily. Though perfectly + aware that David would look round, they seemed taken quite by surprise + when he did look, and with military precision became instantly two files, + for the four impudent ones ran behind the two modest ones, and there, by + an innocent instinct, tied their cap-strings, which were previously + floating loose, their custom ever in the early morning. + </p> + <p> + “Play us up something merry, sir,” hazarded one of the mock-modest ones in + the rear. + </p> + <p> + “Shan't I be taking you from your work?” objected David dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all work and no play is bad for the body,” replied the minx, keeping + ostentatiously out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Good-natured David played a merry tune in spite of his heart; and even at + that disadvantage it was so spirit-stirring compared with anything the + servants had heard, it made them all frisky, of which disposition Tom, the + stable boy, who just then came into the yard, took advantage, and, leading + out one of the housemaids by the polite process of hauling at her with + both hands, proceeded to country dancing, in which the others soon + demurely joined. + </p> + <p> + Now all this was wormwood to poor David; for to play merriment when the + heart is too heavy to be cheered by it makes that heart bitter as well as + sad. But the good-natured fellow said to himself: “Poor things, I dare say + they work from morning till night, and seldom see pleasure but at a + distance; why not put on a good face, and give them one merry hour.” So he + played horn-pipes and reels till all their hearts were on fire, and faces + red, and eyes glittering, and legs aching, and he himself felt ready to + burst out crying, and then he left off. As for <i>il penseroso</i> Pepper, + he took this intrusion of merry music upon his sympathies very ill. He + left singing, and barked furiously and incessantly at these ancient + English melodies and at the dancers, and kept running from and running at + the women's whirling gowns alternately, and lost his mental balance, and + at last, having by a happier snap than usual torn off two feet of the + under-housemaid's frock, shook and worried the fragment with insane snarls + and gleaming eyes, and so zealously that his existence seemed to depend on + its annihilation. + </p> + <p> + David gave those he had brightened a sad smile, and went hastily in-doors. + He put his violin into its case, and sealed and directed his letter to + Eve. He could not rest in-doors, so he roamed out again, but this time he + took care to go on the lawn. Nobody would come there, he thought, to + interrupt his melancholy. He was doomed to be disappointed in that + respect. As he sat in the little summer-house with his head on the table, + he suddenly heard an elastic step on the dry gravel. He started peevishly + up and saw a lady walking briskly toward him: it was Miss Fountain. + </p> + <p> + She saw him at the same instant. She hesitated a single half-moment; then, + as escape was impossible, resumed her course. David went bashfully to meet + her. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Mr. Dodd,” said she, in the most easy, unembarrassed way + imaginable. + </p> + <p> + He stammered a “good-morning,” and flushed with pleasure and confusion. + </p> + <p> + He walked by her side in silence. She stole a look at him, and saw that, + after the first blush at meeting her, he was pale and haggard. On this she + dashed into singularly easy and cheerful conversation with him; told him + that this morning walk was her custom—“My substitute for rouge, you + know. I am always the first up in this languid house; but I must not boast + before you, who, I dare say, turn out—is not that the word?—at + daybreak. But, now I think of it, no! you would have crossed my hawse + before, Mr. Dodd,” using naval phrases to flatter him. + </p> + <p> + “It was my ill-luck; I always cruised a mile off. I had no idea this bit + of gravel was your quarter-deck.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, though, because it is always dry. You would not like a + quarter-deck with that character, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I should. I'd have my bowsprit always wet, and my quarter-deck + always dry. But it is no use wishing for what we cannot have.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very true,” said Lucy, quietly. + </p> + <p> + David reflected on his own words, and sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + This did not suit Lucy. She plied him with airy nothings, that no man can + arrest and impress on paper; but the tone and smile made them pleasing, + and then she asked his opinion of the other guests in such a way as + implied she took some interest in his opinion of them, but mighty little + in the people themselves. In short, she chatted with him like an old + friend, and nothing more; but David was not subtle enough in general, nor + just now calm enough, to see on what footing all this cordiality was + offered him. His color came back, his eye brightened, happiness beamed on + his face, and the lady saw it from under her lashes. + </p> + <p> + “How fortunate I fell in with you here! You are yourself again—on + your quarter-deck. I scarce knew you the last few days. I was afraid I had + offended you. You seemed to avoid me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Mr. Dodd; what is there about you to avoid?” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty, Miss Fountain; I am so inferior to your other friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware of it, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have heard your sex has gusts of caprice, and I thought the cold + wind was blowing upon me; and that did seem very sad, just when I am going + out, and perhaps shall never see your sweet face or hear your lovely voice + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, Mr. Dodd, or you will make me sad in earnest. Your + prudence and courage, and a kind Providence, will carry you safe through + this voyage, as they have through so many, and on your return the + acquaintance you do me the honor to value so highly will await you—if + it depends on me.” + </p> + <p> + All this was said kindly and beautifully, and almost tenderly, but still + with a certain majesty that forbade love-making—rendered it scarce + possible, except to a fool. But David was not captious. He could not, like + the philosopher, sift sunshine. For some days he had been almost separated + from her. Now she was by his side. He adored her so that he could no + longer <i>realize</i> sorrow or disappointment to come. They were + uncertain—future. The light of her eyes, and voice, and face, and + noble presence were here; he basked in them. + </p> + <p> + He told her not to mind a word he had said. “It was all nonsense. I am + happier now—happier than ever.” + </p> + <p> + At this Lucy looked grave and became silent. + </p> + <p> + David, to amuse her, told her there was “a singing dog aboard,” and would + she like to hear him? + </p> + <p> + This was a happy diversion for Lucy. She assented gayly. David ran for his + fiddle, and then for Pepper. Pepper wagged his tail, but, strong as his + musical taste was, would not follow the fiddle. But at this juncture + Master Reginald dawned on the stable-yard with a huge slice of bread and + butter. Pepper followed him. So the party came on the lawn and joined + Lucy. Then David played on the violin, and Pepper performed exactly as + hereinbefore related. Lucy laughed merrily, and Reginald shrieked with + delight, for the vocal terrier was mortal droll. + </p> + <p> + “But, setting Pepper aside, that is a very sweet air you are playing now, + Mr. Dodd. It is full of soul and feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” said David, looking wonderstruck; “you know best.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the composer?” + </p> + <p> + David looked confused and said, “No one of any note.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy shot a glance at him, keen as lightning. What with David's simplicity + and her own remarkable talent for reading faces, his countenance was a + book to her, wide open, Bible print. “The composer's name is Mr. Dodd,” + said she, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I little thought you would be satisfied with it,” replied David, + obliquely. + </p> + <p> + “Then you doubted my judgment as well as your own talent.” + </p> + <p> + “My talent! I should never have composed an air that would bear playing + but for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was that?” said Lucy, affecting vast curiosity. She felt herself + on safe ground now—the fine arts. + </p> + <p> + “You remember when you went away from Font Abbey, and left us all so + heavy-hearted?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember leaving Font Abbey,” replied Lucy, with saucy emphasis, and an + air of lofty disbelief in the other incident. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I used to get my fiddle, and think of you so far away, and sweet + sad airs came to my heart, and from my heart they passed into the fiddle. + Now and then one seemed more worthy of you than the rest were, and then I + kept that one.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you took the notes down,” said Lucy coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, there was no need; I wrote it in my head and in my heart. May I + play you another of your tunes? I call them your tunes.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy blushed faintly, and fixed her eyes on the ground. She gave a slight + signal of assent, and David played a melody. + </p> + <p> + “It is very beautiful,” said she in a low voice. “Play it again. Can you + play it as we walk?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” He played it again. They drew near the hall door. She looked up + a moment, and then demurely down again. + </p> + <p> + “Now will you be so good as to play the first one twice?” She listened + with her eyelashes drooping. “Tweedle dee! tweedle dum! tweedle dee.” “And + <i>now</i> we will go into breakfast,” cried Lucy, with sudden airy + cheerfulness, and, almost with the word, she darted up the steps, and + entered the house without even looking to see whether David followed or + what became of him. + </p> + <p> + He stood gazing through the open door at her as she glided across the + hall, swift and elastic, yet serpentine, and graceful and stately as Juno + at nineteen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Et vera iucessu patuit lady.” + </pre> + <p> + These Junones, severe in youthful beauty, fill us Davids with irrational + awe; but, the next moment, they are treated like small children by the + very first matron they meet; they resign their judgment at once to hers, + and bow their wills to her lightest word with a slavish meanness. + </p> + <p> + Creation's unmarried lords, realize your true position—girls govern + you, and wives govern girls. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette, on Lucy's entrance, ran a critical eye over her, and + scolded her like a six-year-old for walking in thin shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Only on the gravel, aunt,” said the divine slave, submissively. + </p> + <p> + “No matter; it rained last night. I heard it patter. You want to be laid + up, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I will put on thicker ones in future, dear aunt,” murmured the celestial + serf. + </p> + <p> + Now Mrs. Bazalgette did not really care a button whether the servile angel + wore thick soles or thin. She was cross about something a mile off that. + As soon as she had vented her ill humor on a sham cause, she could come to + its real cause good-temperedly. “And, Lucy, love, do manage better about + Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy turned scarlet. Luckily, Mrs. Bazalgette was evading her niece's eye, + so did not see her telltale cheek. + </p> + <p> + “He was quite thrown out last night; and really, as he does not ride with + us, it is too bad to neglect him in-doors.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, excuse me, aunt, Mr. Dodd is your protege. You did not even tell me + you were going to invite him.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, that I certainly did. Poor fellow, he was out of + spirits last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, aunt, surely you can put an admirer in good spirits when you + think proper,” said Lucy slyly. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I don't want to attract too much attention. I see Bazalgette + watching me, and I don't wish to be misinterpreted myself, or give my + husband pain.” + </p> + <p> + She said this with such dignity that Lucy, who knew her regard for her + husband, had much ado not to titter. But courtesy prevailed, and she said + gravely: “I will do whatever you wish me, only give me a hint at the time; + a look will do, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies separated; they met again at the breakfast-room door. Laughter + rang merrily inside, and among the gayest voices was Mr. Dodd's. Lucy gave + Mrs. Bazalgette an arch look. “Your patient seems better;” and they + entered the room, where, sure enough, they found Mr. Dodd the life and + soul of the assembled party. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Mrs. Wilson, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “And, pray, who is Mrs. Wilson?” + </p> + <p> + “My nurse. She tells me 'it is five years since she has seen me, and she + is wearying to see me.' What a droll expression, 'wearying.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said David Dodd. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard the word before, Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't say I have; but I know what it must mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Lying becalmed at the equator, eh! Dodd?” said Bazalgette, + misunderstanding him. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Wilson tells me she has taken a farm a few miles from this.” + </p> + <p> + “Interesting intelligence,” said Mrs. Bazalgette. + </p> + <p> + “And she says she is coming over to see me one of these days, aunt,” said + Lucy, with a droll expression, half arch, half rueful. She added timidly, + “There is no objection to that, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever, if she does not make a practice of it; only mind, these + old servants are the greatest pests on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember now,” said Lucy thoughtfully, “Mrs. Wilson was always very + fond of me. I cannot think why, though.” + </p> + <p> + “No more can I,” said Mr. Hardie, dryly; “she must be a thoroughly + unreasonable woman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardie said this with a good deal of grace and humor, and a laugh went + round the table. + </p> + <p> + “I mean she only saw me at intervals of several years.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Lucy, what an antiquity you are making yourself,” said Fountain. + </p> + <p> + But Lucy was occupied with her puzzle. “She calls me her nursling,” said + Lucy, <i>sotto voce,</i> to her aunt, but, of course, quite audibly to the + rest of the company; “her dear nursling;” and says, “she would walk fifty + miles to see me. Nursling? hum! there is another word I never heard, and I + do not exactly know—Then she says—” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Taisez-vous, petite sotte!”</i> said Mrs. Bazalgette, in a sharp + whisper, so admirably projected that it was intelligible only to the ear + it was meant for. + </p> + <p> + Lucy caught it and stopped short, and sat looking by main force calm and + dignified, but scarlet, and in secret agony. “I have said something + amiss,” thought Lucy, and was truly wretched. + </p> + <p> + “We don't believe in Mrs. Wilson's affection on this side the table,” said + Mr. Hardie; “but her revelations interest us, for they prove that Miss + Fountain had a beginning. Now we had thought she rose from the foam like + Venus, or sprung from Jove's brow like Minerva, or descended from some + ancient pedestal, flawless as the Parian itself.” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir,” cried Bazalgette, furiously, “did you think our niece was + built in a day? So fair a structure, so accomplished a—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be quiet, good people?” said Mrs. Bazalgette. “She was born, she + was bred, she was brought up, in which I had a share, and she is a very + good girl, if you gentlemen will be so good as not to spoil her for me + with your flattery.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Lucy, courageously, enforcing her aunt's thunderbolt; and + she leaned toward Mrs. Bazalgette, and shot back a glance of defiance, + with arching neck, at Mr. Bazalgette. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast she ran to Mrs. Bazalgette. “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing; only the gentlemen were beginning to grin.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! did I say anything—ridiculous?” + </p> + <p> + “No, because I stopped you in time. Mind, Lucy, it is never safe to read + letters out from people in that class of life; they talk about everything, + and use words that are quite out of date. I stopped you because I know you + are a simpleton, and so I could not tell what might pop out next.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, aunt—thank you,” cried Lucy, warmly. “Then I did not + expose myself, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; you said nothing that might not be proclaimed at St. Paul's Cross—ha! + ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I a simpleton, aunt?” inquired Lucy, in the tone of an indifferent + person seeking knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Not you,” replied this oblivious lady. “You know a great deal more than + most girls of your age. To be sure, girls that have been at a fashionable + school generally manage to learn one or two things you have no idea of.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “As you say—he! he! But you make up for it, my dear, in other + respects. If the gentlemen take you for a pane of glass, why, all the + better; meantime, shall I tell you your real character? I have only just + discovered it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, aunt, tell me my character. I should so like to hear it from + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Should you?” said the other, a little satirically; “well, then, you are + an INNOCENT FOX.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt!” + </p> + <p> + “An in-no-cent fox; so run and get your work-box. I want you to run up a + tear in my flounce.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy went thoughtfully for her workbox, murmuring ruefully, “I am an + innocent fox—I am an in-nocent fox.” + </p> + <p> + She did not like her new character at all; it mortified her, and seemed + self-contradictory as well as derogatory. + </p> + <p> + On her return she could not help remonstrating: “How can that be my + character? A fox is cunning, and I despise cunning; and <i>I am sure</i> I + am not <i>innocent,”</i> added she, putting up both hands and looking + penitent. With all this, a shade of vexation was painted on her lovely + cheeks as she appealed against her epigram. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette (with the calm, inexorable superiority of matron + despotism). “You are an in-nocent fox!! Is your needle threaded? Here is + the tear; no, not there. I caught against the flowerpot frame, and I'll + swear I heard my gown go. Look lower down, dear. Don't give it up.” + </p> + <p> + All which may perhaps remind the learned and sneering reader of another + fox—the one that “had a wound, and he could not tell where.” + </p> + <p> + They rode out to-day as usual, and David had the equivocal pleasure of + seeing them go from the door. + </p> + <p> + Lucy was one of the first down, and put her hand on the saddle, and looked + carelessly round for somebody to put her up. David stepped hastily + forward, his heart beating, seized her foot, never waited for her to + spring, but went to work at once, and with a powerful and sustained effort + raised her slowly and carefully like a dead weight, and settled her in the + saddle. His gripe hurt her foot. She bore it like a Spartan sooner than + lose the amusement of his simplicity and enormous strength, so drolly and + unnecessarily exerted. It cost her a little struggle not to laugh right + out, but she turned her head away from him a moment and was quit for a + spasm. Then she came round with a face all candor. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Dodd,” said she, demurely; and her eyes danced in her + head. Her foot felt encircled with an iron band, but she bore him not a + grain of malice for that, and away she cantered, followed by his longing + eyes. + </p> + <p> + David bore the separation well. “To-morrow morning I shall have her all to + myself,” said he. He played with Kenealy and Reginald, and chatted with + Bazalgette. In the evening she was surrounded as usual, and he obtained + only a small share of her attention. But the thought of the morrow + consoled him. He alone knew that she walked before breakfast. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he rose early, and sauntered about till eight o'clock, + and then he came on the lawn and waited for her. She did not come. He + waited, and waited, and waited. She never came. His heart died within him. + “She avoids me,” said he; “it is not accident. I have driven her out of + her very garden; she always walked here before breakfast (she said so) + till I came and spoiled her walk; Heaven forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + David could not flatter himself that this interruption of her acknowledged + habit was accidental. On the other hand, how kind and cheerful she had + been with him on the same spot yesterday morning. To judge by her manner, + his company on her quarter-deck was not unwelcome to her yet she kept her + room to-day, from the window of which she could probably see him walking + to and fro, longing for her. The bitter disappointment was bad enough, but + here tormenting perplexity as to its cause was added, and between the two + the pining heart was racked. + </p> + <p> + This is the cruelest separation; mere distance is the mildest. Where land + and sea alone lie between two loving hearts, they pine, but are at rest. A + piece of paper, and a few lines traced by the hand that reads like a face, + and the two sad hearts exult and embrace one another afresh, in spite of a + hemisphere of dirt and salt water, that parts bodies but not minds. But to + be close, yet kept aloof by red-hot iron and chilling ice, by rivals, by + etiquette and cold indifference—to be near, yet far—this is to + be apart—this, this is separation. + </p> + <p> + A gush of rage and bitterness foreign to his natural temper came over Mr. + Dodd. “Since I can't have the girl I love, I will have nobody but my own + thoughts. I cannot bear the others and their chat to-day. I will go and + think of her, since that is all she will let me do”; and directly after + breakfast David walked out on the downs and made by instinct for the sea. + The wounded deer shunned the lively herd. + </p> + <p> + The ladies, as they sat in the drawing-room, received visits of a less + flattering character than usual. Reginald kept popping in, inquiring, + “Where was Mr. Dodd?” and would not believe they had not hid him + somewhere. He was followed by Kenealy, who came in and put them but one + question, “Where is Dawd?” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know,” said Mrs. Bazalgette sharply; “we have not been intrusted + with the care of Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy sauntered forth disconsolate. Finally Mr. Bazalgette put his head + in, and surveyed the room keenly but in silence; so then his wife looked + up, and asked him satirically if he did not want Mr. Dodd. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” was the gracious reply; “what else should I come here + for?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is lost; you had better put him in the 'Hue and Cry.'” + </p> + <p> + La Bazalgette was getting jealous of her own flirtee: he attracted too + much of that attention she loved so dear. + </p> + <p> + At last Reginald, despairing of Dodd, went in search of another playmate—Master + Christmas, a young gentleman a year older than himself, who lived within + half a mile. Before he went he inquired what there was for his dinner, + and, being informed “roast mutton,” was not enraptured; he then asked with + greater solicitude what was the pudding, and, being told “rice,” betrayed + disgust and anger, as was remembered when too late. + </p> + <p> + At two o'clock, the day being fine, the ladies went for a long ride, + accompanied by Talboys only. Kenealy excused himself: “He must see if he + could not find Dawd.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette started in a pet; but, after the first canter, she set + herself to bewitch Mr. Talboys, just to keep her hand in; she flattered + him up hill and down dale. Lucy was silent and <i>distraite.</i> + </p> + <p> + “From that hill you look right down upon the sea,” said Mrs. Bazalgette; + “what do you say? It is only two miles farther.” + </p> + <p> + On they cantered, and, leaving the high road, dived into a green lane + which led them, by a gradual ascent, to Mariner's Folly on the summit of + the cliff. Mariner's Folly looked at a distance like an enormous bush in + the shape of a lion; but, when you came nearer, you saw it was three + remarkably large blackthorn-trees planted together. As they approached it + at a walk, Mrs. Bazalgette told Mr. Talboys its legend. + </p> + <p> + “These trees were planted a hundred and fifty years ago by a retired + buccaneer.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, now, it was only a lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Lucy, and don't spoil me; I <i>call</i> him a buccaneer. Some + say it is named his “Folly,” because, you must know, his ghost comes and + sits here at times, and that is an absurd practice, shivering in the cold. + Others more learned say it comes from a Latin word 'folio,' or some such + thing, that means a leaf; the mariner's leafy screen.” She then added with + reckless levity, “I wonder whether we shall find Buckey on the other side, + looking at the ships through a ghostly telescope—ha! ha!—ah! + ah! help! mercy! forgive me! Oh, dear, it is only Mr. Dodd in his jacket—you + frightened me so. Oh! oh! There—I am ill. Catch me, somebody;” and + she dropped her whip, and, seeing David's eye was on her, subsided + backward with considerable courage and trustfulness, and for the second + time contrived to be in her flirtee's arms. + </p> + <p> + I wish my friend Aristotle had been there; I think he would have been + pleased at her [Greek] (presence of mind) in turning even her terror of + the supernatural so quickly to account, and making it subservient to + flirtation. + </p> + <p> + David sat heart-stricken and hopeless, gazing at the sea. The hours passed + by his heavy heart unheeded. The leafy screen deadened the light sound of + the horses' feet on the turf, and, moreover, his senses were all turned + inward. They were upon him, and he did not move, but still held his head + in his hands and gazed upon the sea. At Mrs. Bazalgette's cries he started + up, and looked confusedly at them all; but, when she did the feinting + business, he thought she was going to faint, and caught her in his arms; + and, holding her in them a moment as if she had been a child, he deposited + her very gently in a sitting posture at the foot of one of the trees, and, + taking her hand, slapped it to bring her to. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't! you hurt me,” cried the lady in her natural voice. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, barbarous girl, never came to her aunt's assistance. At the first + fright she seemed slightly agitated, but she now sat impassive on her + pony, and even wore a satirical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Now, dear aunt, when you have done, Mr. Dodd will put you on your horse + again.” + </p> + <p> + On this hint David lifted her like a child, <i>malgre</i> a little squeak + she thought it well to utter, and put her in the saddle again. She thanked + him in a low, murmuring voice. She then plied David with a host of + questions. “How came he so far from home?” “Why had he deserted them all + day?” David hung his head, and did not answer. Lucy came to his relief: + “It would be as well if you would make him promise to be at home in time + for dinner; and, by the way, I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “A favor to ask of me?!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know we all make demands upon your good-nature in turn.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said La Bazalgette, tenderly. “I don't know what will + become of us all when he goes.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy then explained “that the masked ball suggested by Mr. Talboys' + beautiful dresses was to be very soon, and she wanted Mr. Dodd to practice + quadrilles and waltzes with her; it will be so much better with the violin + and piano than with a piano alone, and you are such an excellent timist—will + you, Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “That I will,” said David, his eyes sparkling with delight; “thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, as I shall practice before the gentlemen join us, and it is four + o'clock now, had you not better turn your back on the sea, and make the + best of your way home?” + </p> + <p> + “I will be there almost as soon as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! what, on foot, and we on horseback?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; but I can steer in the wind's eye.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, Mr. Dodd proposes a race home.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart. How much start are we to give him?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all,” said David; “are you ready? Then give way,” and he started + down the hill at a killing pace. + </p> + <p> + The equestrians were obliged to walk down the hill, and when they reached + the bottom David was going as the crow flies across some meadows half a + mile ahead. A good canter soon brought them on a line with him, but every + now and then the turns of the road and the hills gave him an advantage. + Lucy, naturally kind-hearted, would have relaxed her pace to make the race + more equal, but Talboys urged her on; and as a horse is, after all, a + faster animal than a sailor, they rode in at the front gate while David + was still two fields off. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, regretfully, “we have beat him, poor fellow, + but we won't go in till we see what has become of him.” + </p> + <p> + As they loitered on the lawn, Henry the footman came out with a salver, + and on it reposed a soiled note. Henry presented it with demure + obsequiousness, then retired grinning furtively. + </p> + <p> + “What is this—a begging-letter? What a vile hand! Look, Lucy; did + you ever? Why, it must be some pauper.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a little mercy, aunt,” said Lucy, piteously; “that hand has been + formed under my care and daily superintendence: it is Reginald's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that alters the case. What can the dear child have to say to me! Ah! + the little wretch! Send the servants after him in every direction. Oh, who + would be a mother!” + </p> + <p> + The letter was written in lines with two pernicious defects. 1st. They + were like the wooden part of a bow instead of its string. 2d. They yielded + to gravity—kept tending down, down, to the righthand corner more and + more. In the use of capitals the writer had taken the copyhead as his + model. The style, however, was pithy, and in writing that is the first + Christian grace—no, I forgot, it is the second; pellucidity is the + first. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear mama, me and johnny + Cristmas are gone to the north + Pole his unkle went twise we + Shall be back in siks munths + Please give my love to lucy and + Papa and ask lucy to be kind to + My ginnipigs i shall want them + Wen i come back. too much + Cabiges is not good for ginnipigs. + Wen i come back i hope there + Will be no rise left. it is very + Unjust to give me those nasty + Messy pudens i am not a child + There filthy there abbommanabel. + Johny says it is funy at the north + Pole and there are bares + and they + Are wite. + I remain + + “Your duteful son + + “Reginald George Bazalgette.” + </pre> + <p> + This innocent missive set house and premises in an uproar. Henry was sent + east through the dirt, <i>multa reluctantem,</i> in white stockings. Tom + galloped north. Mrs. Bazalgette sat in the hall, and did well-bred + hysterics for Kenealy and Talboys. Lucy pinned up her habit, and ran to + the boundary hedge on the bare chance of seeing the figures of the truants + somewhere short of the horizon. Lo, and behold, there was David Dodd + crossing the very nearest field and coming toward her, an urchin in each + hand. + </p> + <p> + Lucy ran to meet them. “Oh, you dear naughty children, what a fright you + have given us! Oh, Mr. Dodd, how good of you! Where <i>did</i> you find + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Under that hedge, eating apples. They tell me they sailed for the North + Pole this morning, but fell in with a pirate close under the land, so + 'bout ship and came ashore again.” + </p> + <p> + “A pirate, Mr. Dodd? Oh, I see, a beggar—a tramp.” + </p> + <p> + “A deal worse than that, Miss Lucy. Now, youngster, why don't you spin + your own yarn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, tell me, Reggy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, when I had written to mamma, and Johnny had folded it—because + I can write but I can't fold it, and he can fold it but he can't write it—we + went to the North Pole, and we got a mile; and then we saw that nasty + Newfoundland dog sitting in the road waiting to torment us. It is Farmer + Johnson's, and it plays with us, and knocks us down, and licks us, and + frightens us, and we hate it; so we came home.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! good, prudent children. Oh, dear, you have had no dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes we had, Lucy, such a nice one: we bought such a lot of apples of + a woman. I never had a dinner all apples before; they always spoil them + with mutton and things, and that nasty, nasty rice” + </p> + <p> + “Hear to that!” shouted David Dodd. “They have been dining upon varjese” + (verjuice), “and them growing children. I shall take them into the + kitchen, and put some cold beef into their little holds this minute, poor + little lambs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, do; and I will run and tell the good news.” She ran across the + lawn, and came into the hall red with innocent happiness and agitation. + “They are found, aunt, they are found; don't cry. Mr. Dodd found them + close by, They have had no dinner, so that good, kind Mr. Dodd is taking + them into the kitchen. I will send Master Christmas home with a servant. + Shall I bring you Reggy to kiss?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; wicked little wretch, to frighten his poor mother! Whip him, + somebody, and put him to bed.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening, soon after the ladies had left the dining-room, the + pianoforte was heard playing quadrilles in the drawing-room. David + fidgeted on his seat a little, and presently rose and went for his violin, + and joined Lucy in the drawing-room alone. Mrs. B. was trying on a dress. + Between the tunes Lucy chatted with him as freely and kindly as ever. + David was in heaven. When the gentlemen came up from the dining-room, his + joy was interrupted, but not for long. The two musicians played with so + much spirit, and the fiddle, in particular, was so hearty, that Mrs. + Bazalgette proposed a little quiet dance on the carpet: and this drew the + other men away from the piano, and left David and Lucy to themselves. + </p> + <p> + She stole a look more than once at his bright eyes and rich ruddy color, + and asked herself, “Is that really the same face we found looking wan and + haggard on the sea? I think I have put an end to that, at all events.” The + consciousness of this sort of power is secretly agreeable to all men and + all women, whether they mean to abuse it or no. She smiled demurely at her + mastery over this great heart, and said to herself, “One would think I was + a witch.” Later in the evening she eyed him again, and thought to herself, + “If my company and a few friendly words can make him so happy, it does + seem very hard I should select him to shun for the few days he has to pass + in England now; but then, if I let him think—I don't know what to do + with him. Poor Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain did not torment her bolder aspirants with alternate distance + and familiarity. She rode out every fine day with Mr. Talboys, and was all + affability. She sat next Mr. Hardie at dinner, and was all affability. + </p> + <p> + Narrative has its limits and, to relate in some sequence the honest + sailor's tortures in love with a tactician, I have necessarily omitted + concurrent incidents of a still tamer character; but the reader may, by + the help of his own intelligence, gather their general results from the + following dialogues, which took place on the afternoon and evening of the + terrible infant's escapade. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette. “'Well, my dear friend, and how does this naughty girl of + mine use you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardie. “As well as I could expect, and better than I deserve.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. “Then she must be cleverer than any girl that ever breathed. + However, she does appreciate your conversation; she makes no secret of + it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “I have so little reason to complain of my reception that I will + make my proposal to her this evening if you think proper.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette started, and glanced admiration on a man of eight thousand + a year, who came to the point of points without being either cajoled or + spurred thither; but she shook her head. “Prudence, my dear Mr. Hardie, + prudence. Not just yet. You are making advances every day; and Lucy is an + odd girl; with all her apparent tenderness, she is unimpressionable.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only virgin modesty,” said Hardie, dogmatically. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlestick,” replied Mrs. B., good-humoredly. “The greatest flirts I + ever met with were virgins, as you call them. I tell you she is not + disposed toward marriage as all other girls are until they have tasted its + bitters.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “If I know anything of character, she will make a very loving + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. (sharply). “That means a nice little negro. Well, I think she + might, when once caught; but she is not caught, and she is slippery, and, + if you are in too great a hurry, she may fly off; but, above all, we have + a dangerous rival in the house just now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “What, that Mr. Talboys? I don't fear him. He is next door to a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. “What of that? Fools are dangerous rivals for a lady's favor. We + don't object to fools. It depends on the employment. There is one office + we are apt to select them for.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “A husband, eh?” The lady nodded. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. “I meant to marry a fool in Bazalgette, but I found my mistake. + The wretch had only feigned absurdity. He came out in his true colors + directly.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “A man of sense, eh? The sinister hypocrite! He only wore the caps + and bells to allure unguarded beauty, and doffed them when he donned the + wedding-suit.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. “Yes. But these are reminiscences so sweet that I shall be glad to + return from them to your little affair. Seriously, then, Mr. Talboys is + not to be overlooked, for this reason: he is well backed.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “By some one who has influence with Lucy—her nearest relation, Mr. + Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “What! is he nearer to her than you are?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; and she is fond of him to infatuation. One day I did but hint + that selfishness entered into his character (he is eaten up with it), and + that he told fibs; Mr. Hardie, she turned round on me like a tigress—Oh, + how she made me cry!” + </p> + <p> + The keen hand, Hardie, smiled satirically, and after a pause answered with + consummate coolness: “I believe thus much, that she loves her uncle, and + that his influence, exerted unscrupulously—” + </p> + <p> + “Which it will be. He may be strong enough to spoil us, even though he + should not be able to carry his own point; now trust me, my dear friend, + Lucy's preference is clearly for you, but I know the weakness of my own + sex, and, above all, I know Lucy Fountain. A mouse can help a lion in a + matter of small threads, too small for his nobler and grander wisdom to + see. Let me be your mouse for once.” The little woman caught the great man + with the everlasting hook, and the discussion ended in “claw me and I will + claw thee,” and in the mutual self-complacency that follows that + arrangement. <i>Vide</i> “Blackwood,” <i>passim.</i> + </p> + <p> + Mr. H. “I really think she would accept me if I offered to-day; but I have + so high an opinion of your sagacity and friendship for me, madam, that I + will defer my judgment to yours. I must, however, make one condition, that + you will not displace my plan without suggesting a distinct course of + action for me to adopt in its place.” + </p> + <p> + This smooth proposal, made quietly but with twinkling eye, would have shut + the mouth of nine advisers in ten, but it found the Bazalgette prepared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the pleasure of having a man of ability to deal with!” cried she, + with enthusiasm. “This is my advice, then: stay Mr. Fountain out. He must + go in a day or two. His time is up, and I will drop a hint of fresh + visitors expected. When he is gone, warm by degrees, and offer yourself + either in person, or through Bazalgette, or me.” + </p> + <p> + “In person, then, certainly. Of all foibles, employing another pair of + eyes, another tongue, another person to make love for one is surely the + silliest.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite of your opinion,” cried the lady, with a hearty laugh. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain. “So you are satisfied with the state of things?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys. “Yes, I think I have beaten the sailor out of the field.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—this Hardie?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardie! a shopkeeper. I don't fear him.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, why not propose? I have been doing the preliminaries—sounding + your praises.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys (tyrannically). “I propose next Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain. “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + Talboys. “In the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “In the boat? What boat? There's no boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I have asked her to sail with me from —— in a boat; there is + a very nice little lugger-rigged one. I am having the seats padded and + stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white and + gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! Cleopatra's galley.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you she looks forward to it with pleasure; she guesses why I + want to get her into that boat. She hesitated at first, but at last + consented with a look—a conscious look; I can hardly describe it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need,” cried Fountain. “I know it; the jade turned all + eyelashes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is rather exaggerated, but still—” + </p> + <p> + “But still I have described it—to a hair. Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Talboys (gravely). “Well, yes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys, I am bound to own, was accurate. During the last day or two + Lucy had taken a turn; she had been bewitching; she had flattered him with + tact, but deliciously; had consulted him as to which of his beautiful + dresses she should wear at the masked ball, and, when pressed to have a + sail in the boat he was fitting for her, she ended by giving a demure + assent. + </p> + <p> + Chorus of male readers, <i>“Oh, les femmes, les femmes!”</i> + </p> + <p> + David Dodd had by nature a healthy as well as a high mind; but the fever + and ague of an absorbing passion were telling on it. Like many a great + heart before his day, his heart was tossed like a ship, and went up to + heaven, and down again to despair, as a girl's humor shifted, or seemed to + shift, for he forgot that there is such a thing as accident, and that her + sex are even more under its dominion than ours. No; whatever she did must + be spontaneous, voluntary, premeditated even, and her lightest word worth + weighing, her lightest action worth anxious scrutiny as to its cause. + </p> + <p> + Still he had this about him that the peevish and puny lover has not. Her + bare presence was joy to him. Even when she was surrounded by other + figures, he saw and felt but the one; the rest were nothings. But when she + went out of his sight, some bright illusion seemed to fade into cold and + dark reality. Then it fell on him like a weighty, icy hammer, that in + three days he must go to sea for two years, and that he was no nearer her + heart now than he was at Font Abbey. Was he even as near? + </p> + <p> + So the next afternoon he thrust in before Talboys, and put Lucy on her + horse by brute force, and griped her stout little boot, which she had + slyly substituted for a shoe, and touched her glossy habit, and felt a + thrill of bliss unspeakable at his momentary contact with her; but she was + no sooner out of sight than a hollow ache seized the poor fellow, and he + hung his head and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I say, capting,” said a voice in his ear. He looked up, and there stood + Tom, the stable-boy, with both hands in his pockets. Tom was not there by + his own proper movement, but was agent of Betsy, the under-housemaid. + </p> + <p> + Female servants scan the male guests pretty closely too, without seeming + to do it, and judge them upon lamentably broad principles—youth, + health, size, beauty, and good temper. Oh, the coarse-minded critics! + Hence it befell that in their eyes, especially after the fiddle business, + David was a king compared with his rivals. + </p> + <p> + “If I look at him too long, I shall eat him,” said the cook-maid. + </p> + <p> + “He is a darling,” said the upper housemaid. + </p> + <p> + Betsy aforesaid often opened a window to have a sly look at him, and on + one of these occasions she inspected him from an upper story at her + leisure. His manner drew her attention. She saw him mount Lucy, and eye + her departing form sadly and wistfully. Betsy glowered and glowered, and + hit the nail on the head, as people will do who are so absurd as to look + with their own eyes, and draw their own conclusions instead of other + people's. After this she took an opportunity, and said to Tom, with a + satirical air, “How are you off for nags, your way?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have got enough for our corn,” replied Tom, on the defensive. + </p> + <p> + “It seems you can't find one for the captain among you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you give a kiss if I make you out a liar?” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than break my arm. Come, you might, Tom. Now is it reasonable, him + never to get a ride with her, and that useless lot prancing about with her + all day long?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you ride with 'em, capting?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no horse.” + </p> + <p> + “I have got a horse for you, sir—master's.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be taking a liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Liberty, sir! no; master would be so pleased if you would but ride him. + He told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then saddle him, pray.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a-saddled him. You had better come in the stable-yard, capting; + then you can mount and follow; you will catch them before they reach the + Downs.” In another minute David was mounted. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ride short or long, capting?” inquired Tom, handling the + stirrup-leather. + </p> + <p> + David wore a puzzled look. “I ride as long as I can stick on;” and he + trotted out of the stable-yard. As Tom had predicted, he caught the party + just as they went off the turn-pike on to the grass. His heart beat with + joy; he cantered in among them. His horse was fresh, squeaked, and bucked + at finding himself on grass and in company, and David announced his + arrival by rolling in among their horses' feet with the reins tight + grasped in his fist. The ladies screamed with terror. David got up + laughing; his horse had hoped to canter away without him, and now stood + facing him and pulling. + </p> + <p> + “No, ye don't,” said David. “I held on to the tiller-ropes though I did go + overboard.” Then ensued a battle between David and his horse, the one + wanting to mount, the other anxious to be unencumbered with sailors. It + was settled by David making a vault and sitting on the animal's neck, on + which the ladies screamed again, and Lucy, half whimpering, proposed to go + home. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of it,” cried David. “I won't be beat by such a small craft + as this—hallo!” for, the horse backing into Talboys, that gentleman + gave him a clandestine cut, and he bolted, and, being a little + hard-mouthed, would gallop in spite of the tiller-ropes. On came the other + nags after him, all misbehaving more or less, so fine a thing is example. + When they had galloped half a mile the ground began to rise, and David's + horse relaxed his pace, whereon David whipped him industriously, and made + him gallop again in spite of remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + The others drew the rein, and left him to gallop alone. Accordingly, he + made the round of the hill and came back, his horse covered with lather + and its tail trembling. “There,” said he to Lucy, with an air of radiant + self-satisfaction, “he clapped on sail without orders from quarter-deck, + so I made him carry it till his bows were under water.” + </p> + <p> + “You will kill my uncle's horse,” was the reply, in a chilling tone. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “Look at its poor flank beating.” + </p> + <p> + David hung his head like a school-girl rebuked. “But why did he clap on + sail if he could not carry it?” inquired he, ruefully, of his monitress. + </p> + <p> + The others burst out laughing; but Lucy remained grave and silent. + </p> + <p> + David rode along crestfallen. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette brought her pony close to him, and whispered, “Never mind + that little cross-patch. <i>She</i> does not care a pin about the <i>horse;</i> + you interrupted her flirtation, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + This piece of consolation soothed David like a bunch of stinging-nettles. + </p> + <p> + While Mrs. Bazalgette was consoling David with thorns, Kenealy and Talboys + were quizzing his figure on horseback. + </p> + <p> + He sat bent like a bow and visibly sticking on: <i>item,</i> he had no + straps, and his trousers rucked up half-way to his knee. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's attention being slyly drawn to these phenomena by David's friend + Talboys, she smiled politely, though somewhat constrainedly; but the + gentlemen found it a source of infinite amusement during the whole ride, + which, by the way, was not a very long one, for Miss Fountain soon + expressed a wish to turn homeward. David felt guilty, he scarce knew why. + </p> + <p> + The promised happiness was wormwood. On dismounting, she went to the lawn + to tend her flowers. David followed her, and said bitterly, “I am sorry I + came to spoil your pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Fountain made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I might have one ride with you, when others have so many.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, Mr. Dodd. If you like to expose yourself to ridicule, it + is no affair of mine.” The lady's manner was a happy mixture of frigidity + and crossness. David stood benumbed, and Lucy, having emptied her + flower-pot, glided indoors without taking any farther notice of him. + </p> + <p> + David stood rooted to the spot. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and went and + leaned against one of the pillars of the portico, and everything seemed to + swim before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Presently he heard a female voice inquire, “Is Miss Lucy at home?” He + looked, and there was a tall, strapping woman in conference with Henry. + She had on a large bonnet with flaunting ribbons, and a bushy cap + infuriated by red flowers. Henry's eye fell upon these embellishments: + “Not at home,” chanted he, sonorously. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, dear,” said the woman sadly, “I have come a long way to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at home, ma'am,” repeated Henry, like a vocal machine. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Wilson, young man,” said she, persuasively, and the Amazon's + voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full of field + poppies. “I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five years come + Martinmas;” and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Not at home, ma'am!” rang the inexorable Plush. + </p> + <p> + But David's good heart took the woman's part. “She is at home, now,” said + he, coming forward. “I saw her go into the house scarce a minute ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was instantly + puckered all over with signals, which David not comprehending, he said, + “Can I say a word with you, sir?” and, drawing him on one side, objected, + in an injured and piteous tone. “We are not at home to such gallimaufry as + that; it is as much as my place is worth to denounce that there bonnet to + our ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “Bonnet be d—d,” roared David, aloud. “It is her old nurse. Come, + heave ahead;” and he pointed up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Anything to oblige you, captain,” said Henry, and sauntered into the + drawing-room; “Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; my niece will be here directly.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye kindly, young gentleman,” said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled her + stately figure on the seat. “I have walked a many miles to-day, along of + our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of the family, + I do suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am only a visitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a worse + face than yours, I can tell you,” added she; for in the midst of it all + she had found time to read countenances <i>more mulierurn.</i> + </p> + <p> + “And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson laughed. “Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might have + believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now, and can + say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas.” + </p> + <p> + In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they feel + young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because they feel + old. + </p> + <p> + David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no humor + for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an assurance that + Miss Fountain would be down to her directly. + </p> + <p> + In leaving her he went into worse company—his own thoughts; they + were inexpressibly sad and bitter. “She hates me, then,” said he. + “Everybody is welcome to her at all hours, except me. That lady said it + was because I interrupted her flirtation. Aha! well, I shan't interrupt + her flirtation much longer. I shan't be in her way or anybody's long. A + few short hours, and this bitter day will be forgotten, and nothing left + me but the memory of the kindness she had for me once, or seemed to have, + and the angel face I must carry in my heart wherever I go, by land or sea. + The sea? would to God I was upon it this minute! I'd rather be at sea than + ashore in the dirtiest night that ever blew.” + </p> + <p> + He had been walking to and fro a good half-hour, deeply dejected and + turning bitter, when, looking in accidentally at the hall door, he caught + sight of Mrs. Wilson sitting all alone where he had left her. “Why, what + on earth is the meaning of that?” thought he; and he went into the hall + and asked Mrs. Wilson how she came to be there all alone. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I have been asking myself a while past,” was the dry reply. + </p> + <p> + “Have you not seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I have not seen her, and, to my mind, it is doubtful whether I + am to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “But I say you shall see her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, don't put yourself out, sir,” said the woman, carelessly; “I dare + say I shall have better luck next time, if I should ever come to this + house again, which it is not very likely.” She added gently, “Young folk + are thoughtless; we must not judge them too hardly.” + </p> + <p> + “Thoughtless they may be, but they have no business to be heartless. I + have a great mind to go up and fetch her down.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ye trouble, sir. It is not worth while putting you about for an old + woman like me.” Then suddenly dropping the mask of nonchalance which women + of this class often put on to hide their sensibility, she said, very, very + gravely, and with a sad dignity, that one would not have expected from her + gossip and her finery, “I begin to fear, sir, that the child I have + suckled does not care to know me now she is a woman grown.” + </p> + <p> + David dashed up the stairs with a red streak on his brow. He burst into + the drawing-room, and there sat Mrs. Bazalgette overlooking, and Lucy + working with a face of beautiful calm. She looked just then so very like a + pure, tranquil Madonna making an altar-cloth, or something, that David's + intention to give her a scolding was withered in the bud, and he gazed at + her surprised and irresolute, and said not a word. + </p> + <p> + “Anything the matter?” inquired Mrs. Bazalgette, attracted by the + bruskness of his entry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” said David sternly. + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fountain's old nurse has been sitting in the hall more than half an + hour, and nobody has had the politeness to go near her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that all? Well, don't look daggers at me. There is Lucy; give her + a lesson in good-breeding, Mr. Dodd.” This was said a little satirically, + and rather nettled David. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it does not become me to set up for a teacher of that. I know my + own deficiencies as well as anybody in this house knows them; but this I + know, that, if an old friend walked eight miles to see me, it would not be + good-breeding in me to refuse to walk eight yards to see her. And, another + thing, everybody's time is worth something; if I did not mean to see her, + I would have that much consideration to send down and tell her so, and not + keep the woman wasting her time as well as her trouble, and vexing her + heart into the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, Mr. Dodd?” asked Lucy quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” cried David, getting louder and louder. “Why, she is + cooling her heels in the hall this half hour and more. They hadn't the + manners to show her into a room.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to her, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, turning a little pale. “Don't be + angry; I will go directly”; and, having said this with an abject + slavishness that formed a miraculous contrast with her late crossness and + imperious chilliness, she put down her work hastily and went out; only at + the door she curved her throat, and cast back, Parthian-like, a glance of + timid reproach, as much as to say, “Need you have been so very harsh with + a creature so obedient as this is?” + </p> + <p> + That deprecating glance did Mr. Dodd's business. It shot him with remorse, + and made him feel a brute. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! That is the way to speak to her, Mr. Dodd; the other gentlemen + spoil her.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very unbecoming of me to speak to her harshly like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! nonsense; these girls like to be ordered about; it saves them the + trouble of thinking for themselves; but what is to become of me? You have + sent off my workwoman.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do her work for her.” + </p> + <p> + “What! can you sew?” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the sailor that can't sew?” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful! Then please to sew these two thick ends together. Here is a + large needle.” + </p> + <p> + David whipped out of his pocket a round piece of leather with strings + attached, and fastened it to the hollow of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a sailor's thimble.” He took the work, held it neatly, and shoved + the needle from behind through the thick material. He worked slowly and + uncouthly, but with the precision that was a part of his character, and + made exact and strong stitches. His task-mistress looked on, and, under + the pretense of minute inspection, brought a face that was still arch and + pretty unnecessarily close to the marine milliner, in which attitude they + were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette, who, having come in through the open + folding-doors, stood looking mighty sardonic at them both before they were + even aware he was in the room. + </p> + <p> + Omphale colored faintly, but Hercules gave a cool nod to the newcomer, and + stitched on with characteristic zeal and strict attention to the matter in + hand. + </p> + <p> + At this Bazalgette uttered a sort of chuckle, at which Mrs. Bazalgette + turned red. David stitched on for the bare life. + </p> + <p> + “I came to offer to invite you to my study, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I can't come just now,” said David, bluntly; “I am doing a lady's work + for her.” + </p> + <p> + “So I see,” retorted Bazalgette, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “We all dine with the Hunts but you and Mr. Dodd,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, + “so you will be <i>en tete-a-tete</i> all the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better for us both.” And with this ingratiating remark Mr. + Bazalgette retired whistling. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette heaved a gentle sigh: “Pity me, my friend,” said she, + softly. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” inquired David, rather bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bazalgette is so harsh to me—ah!—to me, who longs so for + kindness and gentleness that I feel I could give my very soul in exchange + for them.” + </p> + <p> + The bait did not take. + </p> + <p> + “It is only his manner,” said David, good-naturedly. “His heart is all + right; I never met a better. What sort of a knot is that you are tying? + Why, that is a granny's knot;” and he looked morose, at which she looked + amazed; so he softened, and explained to her with benevolence the + rationale of a knot. “A knot is a fastening intended to be undone again by + fingers, and not to come undone without them. Accordingly, a knot is no + knot at all if it jams or if it slips. A granny's knot does both; when you + want to untie it you must pick at it like taking a nail out of a board, + and, for all that, sooner or later it always comes undone of itself; now + you look here;” and he took a piece of string out of his pocket, and tied + her a sailor's knot, bidding her observe that she could untie it at once, + but it could never come untied of itself. He showed her with this piece of + string half a dozen such knots, none of which could either jam or slip. + </p> + <p> + “Tie me a lover's knot,” suggested the lady, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! ay!” and he tied her a lover's knot as imperturbably as he had the + reef knot, bowling-knot, fisherman's bend, etc. + </p> + <p> + “This is very interesting,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, ironically. She thought + David might employ a tete-a-tete with a flirt better than this. “What a + time Lucy is gone!” + </p> + <p> + “All the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” and she looked down in mock confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Because poor Mrs. Wilson will be glad.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette was piqued at this unexpected answer. “You seem quite + captivated with this Mrs. Wilson; it was for her sake you took Lucy to + task. Apropos, you need not have scolded her, for she did not know the + woman was in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean Lucy was not in the room when Mrs. Wilson was announced. I was, + but I did not tell her; the all-important circumstance had escaped my + memory. Where are you running to now?” + </p> + <p> + “Where? why, to ask her pardon, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. B. [Brute!] + </p> + <p> + David ran down the stairs to look for Lucy, but he found somebody else + instead—his sister Eve, whom the servant had that moment admitted + into the hall. It was “Oh, Eve!” and “Oh, David!” directly, and an + affectionate embrace. + </p> + <p> + “You got my letter, David?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then you will before long. I wrote to tell you to look out for me; + I had better have brought the letter in my pocket. I didn't know I was + coming till just an hour before I started. Mother insisted on my going to + see the last of you. Cousin Mary had invited me to ——, so I + shall see you off, Davy dear, after all. I thought I'd just pop in and let + you know I was in the neighborhood. Mary and her husband are outside the + gate in their four-wheel. I would not let them drive in, because I want to + hear your story, and they would have bothered us.” + </p> + <p> + “Eve, dear, I have no good news for you. Your words have come true. I have + been perplexed, up and down, hot and cold, till I feel sometimes like + going mad. Eve, I cannot fathom her. She is deeper than the ocean, and + more changeable. What am I saying? the sea and the wind; they are to be + read; they have their signs and their warnings; but she—” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! that is the old song. I tell you it is only a girl—a + creature as shallow as a puddle, and as easy to fathom, as you call it, + only men are so stupid, especially boys. Now just you tell me all she has + said, all she has done, and all she has looked, and I will turn her inside + out like a glove in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Cheered by this audacious pledge, David pumped upon Eve all that has + trickled on my readers, and some minor details besides, and repeated + Lucy's every word, sweet or bitter, and recalled her lightest action—<i>Meminerunt + omnia amantes</i>—and every now and then he looked sadly into Eve's + keen little face for his doom. + </p> + <p> + She heard him in silence until the last fatal incident, Lucy's severity on + the lawn. Then she put in a question. “Were those her exact words?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I ever forget a syllable she says to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry. I forgot what a ninny she has made of you. Well, David, + it is all as plain as my hand. The girl likes you—that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “The girl likes me? What do you mean? How can you say that? What sign of + liking is there?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two. She avoids you, and she has been rude to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And those are signs of liking, are they?” said David, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course they are, stupid. Tell me, now, does she shun this Captain + Keely?” + </p> + <p> + “Kenealy. No.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she shun Mr. Harvey?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardie. No.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she shun Mr. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Eve, you break my heart—no! no! She shuns no one but poor + David.” + </p> + <p> + “Now think a little. Here are three on one sort of footing, and one on a + different footing; which is likeliest to be <i>the man,</i> the one or the + three? You have gained a point since we were all together. She <i>distinguishes</i> + you.” + </p> + <p> + “But what a way to distinguish me. It looks more like hatred than love, or + liking either.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to my eye. Why should she shun you? You are handsome, you are + good-tempered, and good company. Why should she be shy of you? She is + afraid of you, that is why; and why is she afraid of you? because she is + afraid of her own heart. That is how I read her. Then, as for her snubbing + you, if her character was like mine, that ought to go for nothing, for I + snub all the world; but this is a little queen for politeness. I can't + think she would go so far out of her way as to affront anybody unless she + had an uncommon respect for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to that, now! I am on my beam-ends.” + </p> + <p> + “Now think a minute, David,” said Eve, calmly, ignoring his late + observation; “did you ever know her snub anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; and she never would, unless she took an uncommon interest in the + person. When a girl likes a man, she thinks she has a right to ill-use him + a little bit; he has got her affection to set against a scratch or two; + the others have not. So she has not the same right to scratch them. La! + listen to me teaching him A B C. Why, David, you know nothing; it's + scandalous.” + </p> + <p> + Eve's confidence communicated itself at last to David; but when he asked + her whether she thought Lucy would consent to be his wife, her countenance + fell in her turn. “That is a very different thing. I am pretty sure she + likes you; how could she help it? but I doubt she will never go to the + altar with you. Don't be angry with me, Davy, dear. You are in love with + her, and to you she is an angel. But I am of her own sex, and see her as + she is; no matter who she likes, she will never be content to make a bad + match, as they call it. She told me so once with her own lips. But she had + no need to tell me; worldliness is written on her. David, David, you don't + know these great houses, nor the fair-spoken creatures that live in them, + with tongues tuned to sentiment, and mild eyes fixed on the main chance. + Their drawing-rooms are carpeted market-places; you may see the stones + bulge through the flowery pattern; there the ladies sell their faces, the + gentlemen their titles and their money; and much I fear Miss Fountain's + hand will go like the rest—to the highest bidder.” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought so, my love, deep as it is, would turn to contempt; I would + tear her out of my heart, though I tore my heart out of my body.” He + added, “I will know what she is before many hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, David. Take her off her guard, and make hot love to her; that is your + best chance. It is a pity you are so much in love with her; you might win + her by a surprise if you only liked her in moderation.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, dear Eve?” + </p> + <p> + “The battle would be more even. Your adoring her gives her the upper hand + of you. She is sure to say 'no' at first, and then I am afraid you will + leave off, instead of going on hotter and hotter. The very look she will + put on to check you will check you, you are so green. What a pity I can't + take your place for half an hour. I would have her against her will. I + would take her by storm. If she said 'no' twenty times, she should say + 'yes' the twenty-first; but you are afraid of her; fancy being afraid of a + woman. Come, David, you must not shilly-shally, but attack her like a man; + and, if she is such a fool she can't see your merit, forgive her like a + man, and forget her like a man. Come, promise me you will.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you this, that if I lose her it shall not be for want of trying + to win her; and, if she refuses me because I am not her fancy, I shall die + a bachelor for her sake.” Eve sighed. “But if she is the mercenary thing + you take her for—if she owns to liking me, but prefers money to + love, then from that moment she is no more to me than a picture or a + statue, or any other lovely thing that has no soul.” + </p> + <p> + With these determined words he gave his sister his arm, and walked with + her through the grounds to the road where her cousin was waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + Lucy found Mrs. Wilson in the hall. “Come into the library, Mrs. Wilson,” + said she; “I have only just heard you were here. Won't you sit down? Are + you not well, Mrs. Wilson? You tremble. You are fatigued, I fear. Pray + compose yourself. May I ring for a glass of wine for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Miss Lucy,” said the woman, smiling; “it is only along of you + coming to me so sudden, and you so grown. Eh! sure, can this fine young + lady be the little girl I held in my lap but t'other day, as it seems?” + </p> + <p> + There was an agitation and ardor about Mrs. Wilson that, coupled with the + flaming bonnet, made Miss Fountain uneasy. She thought Mrs. Wilson must be + a little cracked, or at least flighty. + </p> + <p> + “Pray compose yourself, madam,” said she, soothingly, but with that + dignity nobody could assume more readily than she could. “I dare say I am + much grown since I last had the pleasure of seeing you; but I have not + outgrown my memory, and I am happy to receive you, or any of our old + servants that knew my dear mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must not look for a welcome,” said Mrs. Wilson, with feminine + logic, “for I was never your servant, nor your mamma's.” Lucy opened her + eyes, and her face sought an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I never took any money for what I gave you, so how could I be a servant? + To see me a dangling of my heels in your hall so long, one would say I was + a servant; but I am not a servant, nor like to be, please God, unless I + should have the ill luck to bury my two boys, as I have their father. So + perhaps the best thing I can do, miss, is to drop you my courtesy and walk + back as I came.” The Amazon's manner was singularly independent and calm, + but the tell-tale tears were in the large gray honest eyes before she + ended. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's natural penetration and habit of attending to faces rather than + words came to her aid. “Wait a minute, Mrs. Wilson,” said she; “I think + there is some misunderstanding here. Perhaps the fault is mine. And yet I + remember more than one nursery-maid that was kind enough to me; but I have + heard nothing of them since.” + </p> + <p> + “Their blood is not in your veins as mine is, unless the doctors have + lanced it out.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was bled in my life, if you mean that, madam. But I must ask you + to explain how I can possibly have the—the advantage of possessing + <i>your</i> blood in <i>my</i> veins.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson eyed her keenly. “Perhaps I had better tell you the story from + first to last, young lady,” said she quietly. + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said the courtier, mastering a sigh; for in Mrs. Wilson + there was much that promised fluency. + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss, when you came into the world, your mamma could not nurse you. + I do notice the gentry that eat the fat of the land are none the better + for it; for a poor woman can do a mother's part by her child, but + high-born and high-fed folk can't always; so you had to be brought up by + hand, miss, and it did not agree with you, and that is no great wonder, + seeing it is against nature. Well, my little girl, that was born just two + days after you, died in my arms of convulsion fits when she was just a + month old. She had only just been buried, and me in bitter grief, when + doesn't the doctor call and ask me as a great favor, would I nurse Mrs. + Fountain's child, that was pining for want of its natural food. I bade him + get out of my sight. I felt as if no woman had a right to have a child + living when my little darling was gone. But my husband, a just man as ever + was, said, 'Take a thought, Mary; the child is really pining, by all + accounts.' Well, I would not listen to him. But next Sunday, after + afternoon church, my mother, that had not said a word till then, comes to + me, and puts her hand on my shoulder with a quiet way she had. 'Mary,' + says she, 'I am older than you, and have known more.' She had buried six + of us, poor thing. Says she, scarce above a whisper, 'Suckle that failing + child. It will be the better for her, and the better for you, Mary, my + girl.' Well, miss, my mother was a woman that didn't interfere every + minute, and seldom gave her reasons; but, if you scorned her advice, you + mostly found them out to your cost; and then she was my mother; and in + those days mothers were more thought of, leastways by us that were women + and had suffered for our children, and so learned to prize the woman that + had suffered for us. 'Well, then,' I said, 'if you say so, mother, I + suppose I didn't ought to gainsay you, on the Lord His day.' For you see + my mother was one that chose her time for speaking—eh! but she was + wise. 'Mother,' says I, 'to oblige you, so be it'; and with that I fell to + crying sore on my mother's neck, and she wasn't long behind me, you may be + sure. Whiles we sat a crying in one another's arms, in comes John, and + goes to speak a word of comfort. 'It is not that,' says my mother; 'she + have given her consent to nurse Mrs. Fountain's little girl.' 'It is much + to her credit,' says he: says he, 'I will take her up to the house + myself.' 'What for?' says I; 'them that grants the favor has no call to + run after them that asks it.' You see, Miss Lucy, that was my ignorance; + we were small farmers, too independent to be fawning, and not high enough + to weed ourselves of upishness. Your mamma, she was a real lady, so she + had no need to trouble about her dignity; she thought only of her child; + and she didn't send the child, but she came with it herself. Well, she + came into our kitchen, and made her obeisance, and we to her, and mother + dusted her a seat. She was pale-like, and a mother's care was in her face, + and that went to my heart. 'This is very, very kind of you, Mrs. Wilson,' + said she. Those were her words. 'Mayhap it is,' says I; and my heart felt + like lead. Mother made a sign to your mamma that she should not hurry me. + I saw the signal, for I was as quick as she was; but I never let on I saw + it. At last I plucked up a bit of courage, and I said, 'Let me see it.' So + mother took you from the girl that held you all wrapped up, and mother put + you on my knees; and I took a good look at you. You had the sweetest + little face that ever came into the world, but all peaked and pining for + want of nature. With you being on my knees, my bosom began to yearn over + you, it did. 'The child is starved,' said I; 'that is all its grief. And + you did right to bring it' here.' Your mother clasps her hands, 'Oh, Mrs. + Wilson,' says she, 'God grant it is not too late.' So then I smiled back + to her, and I said, 'Don't you fret; in a fortnight you shan't know her.' + You see I was beginning to feel proud of what I knew I could do for you. I + was a healthy young woman, and could have nursed two children as easy as + some can one. To make a long story short, I gave you the breast then and + there; and you didn't leave us long in doubt whether cow's milk or + mother's milk is God's will for sucklings. Well, your mamma put her hands + before her face, and I saw the tears force their way between her fingers. + So, when she was gone, I said to my mother, 'What was that for?' 'I shan't + tell you,' says she. 'Do, mother,' says I. So she said, 'I wonder at your + having to ask; can't you see it was jealousy-like. Do you think she has + not her burden to bear in this world as well as you? How would you like to + see another woman do a mother's part for a child of yours, and you sit + looking on like a toy-mother? Eh! Miss Lucy, but I was vexed for her at + that, and my heart softened; and I used to take you up to the great house, + and spend nearly the whole day there, not to rob her of her child more + than need be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Wilson! Oh, you kind, noble-hearted creature, surely Heaven will + reward you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is past praying for, my dear. Heaven wasn't going to be long in debt + to a farmer's wife, you may be sure; not a day, not an hour. I had hardly + laid you to my breast when you seemed to grow to my heart. My milk had + been tormenting me for one thing. My good mother had thought of that, I'll + go bail; and of course you relieved me. But, above all, you numbed the + wound in my heart, and healed it by degrees: a part of my love that lay in + the churchyard seemed to come back like, and settle on the little helpless + darling that milked me. At whiles I forgot you were not my own; and even + when I remembered it, it was—I don't know—somehow—as if + it wasn't so. I knew in my head you were none of mine, but what of that? I + didn't feel it here. Well, miss, I nursed you a year and two months, and a + finer little girl never was seen, and such a weight! And, of course, I was + proud of you; and often your dear mother tried to persuade me to take a + twenty-pound note, or ten; but I never would. I could not sell my milk to + a queen. I'd refuse it, or I'd make a gift of it, and the love that goes + with it, which is beyond price. I didn't say so to her in so many words, + but I did use to tell her 'I was as much in her little girl's debt as she + was in mine,' and so I was. But as for a silk gown, and a shawl, and the + like, I didn't say 'No' to them; who ever does?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse!” + </p> + <p> + “My lamb!” + </p> + <p> + “Can you ever forgive me for confounding you with a servant? I am so + inexperienced. I knew nothing of all this.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Lucy, 'let that flea stick in the wall,' as the saying is.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear Mrs. Wilson, now only think that your affection for me should + have lasted all these years. You speak as if such tenderness was common. I + fear you are mistaken there: most nurses go away and think no more of + those to whom they have been as mothers in infancy.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that, Miss Lucy? Who can tell what passes inside those + poor women that are ground down into slaves, and never dare show their + real hearts to a living creature? Certainly hirelings will be hirelings, + and a poor creature that is forced to sell her breast, and is bundled off + as soon as she has served the grand folks' turn, why, she behooves to + steel herself against nature, and she knows that from the first; but + whether she always does get to harden herself, I take leave to doubt. Miss + Lucy; I knew an unfortunate girl that nursed a young gentleman, leastways + a young nobleman it was, and years after that I have known her to stand + outside the hedge for an hour to catch a sight of him at play on the lawn + among the other children. Ay, and if she had a penny piece to spare she + would go and buy him sugar-plums, and lay wait for him, and give them him, + and he heir to thousands a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing! Poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Next to the tie of blood, Miss Lucy, the tie of milk is a binding + affection. When you went to live twenty miles from us, I behooved to come + in the cart and see you from time to time.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, nurse, I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “When I came to our new farm hard by, you were away; but as soon as I + heard you were come back, it was like a magnet drawing me. I could not + keep away from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid you should; and I will come and see you, dear nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Will ye, now? Do now. I have got a nice little parlor for you. It is a + very good house for a farm-house; and there we can set and talk at our + ease, and no fine servants, dressed like lords, coming staring in.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy now proffered a timid request that Mrs. Wilson would take off her + bonnet. “I want to see your good kind face without any ornament.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear to that, now, the darling;” and off came the bonnet. + </p> + <p> + “Now your cap.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know; I hadn't time to do my hair as should be before + coming.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that matter with me? I must see you without that cap.” + </p> + <p> + “What! don't you like my new cap? Isn't it a pretty cap? Why, I bought it + a purpose to come and see you in.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is a very pretty cap in itself,” said the courtier, “but it does + not suit the shape of your face. Oh, what a difference! Ah! now I see your + heart in your face. Will you let me make you a cap?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you, now, Miss Lucy? I shall be so proud wearing it our house will + scarce hold me.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture a footman came in with a message from Mrs. Bazalgette to + remind Lucy that they dined out. + </p> + <p> + “I must go and dress, nurse.” She then kissed her and promised to ride + over and visit her at her farm next week, and spend a long time with her + quietly, and so these new old friends parted. + </p> + <p> + Lucy pondered every word Mrs. Wilson had said to her, and said to herself: + “What a child I am still! How little I know! How feebly I must have + observed!” + </p> + <p> + The party at dinner consisted of Mr. Bazalgette, David, and Reginald, who, + taking advantage of his mother's absence and Lucy's, had prevailed on the + servants to let him dine with the grown-up ones. “Halo? urchin,” said Mr. + Bazalgette, “to what do we owe this honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Reginald, quaking at heart, “if I don't ever begin to be a + man what is to become of me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reginald did not exhibit his full powers at dinner-time. He was + greatest at dessert. Peaches and apricots fell like blackberries. He + topped up with the ginger and other preserves; then he uttered a sigh, and + his eye dwelt on some candied pineapple he had respited too long. Putting + the pineapple's escape and the sigh together, Mr. Bazalgette judged that + absolute repletion had been attained. “Come, Reginald,” said he, “run away + now, and let Mr. Dodd and me have our talk.” Before the words were even + out of his mouth a howl broke from the terrible infant. He had evidently + feared the proposal, and got this dismal howl all ready. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't make me go away with the ladies this time. Jane says I am not a man + because I go away when the ladies go. And Cousin Lucy won't marry me till + I am a man. Oh, papa, do let me be a man this once.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him stay, sir,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Then he must go and play at the end of the room, and not interrupt our + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reginald consented with rapture. He had got a new puzzle. He could + play at it in a corner; all he wanted was to be able to stop Jane's mouth, + should she ever jeer him again. Reginald thus disposed of, Mr. Bazalgette + courted David to replenish his glass and sit round to the fire. The fire + was huge and glowing, the cut glass sparkled, and the ruby wine glowed, + and even the faces shone, and all invited genial talk. Yet David, on the + eve of his departure and of his fate, oppressed with suspense and care, + was out of the reach of those genial, superficial influences. He could + only just mutter a word of assent here and there, then relapsed into his + reverie, and eyed the fire thoughtfully, as if his destiny lay there + revealed. Mr. Bazalgette, on the contrary, glowed more and more in manner + as well as face, and, like many of his countrymen, seemed to imbibe + friendship with each fresh glass of port. + </p> + <p> + At last, under the double influence of his real liking for David and of + the Englishman-thawing Portuguese decoction, he gave his favorite a + singular proof of friendship. It came about as follows. Observing that he + had all the talk to himself, he fixed his eyes with an expression of + paternal benevolence on his companion, and was silent in turn. + </p> + <p> + David looked up, as we all do when a voice ceases, and saw this mild gaze + dwelling on him. + </p> + <p> + “Dodd, my boy, you don't say a word; what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very bad company, sir, that is the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, fill your glass, then, and I'll talk for you. I have got something + to say for you, young gentleman.” David filled his glass and forced + himself to attend; after a while no effort was needed. + </p> + <p> + “Dodd,” resumed the mature merchant, “I need hardly tell you that I have a + particular regard for you; the reason is, you are a young man of uncommon + merit.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bazalgette! sir! I don't know which way to look when you praise me + like that. It is your goodness; you overrate me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't. I am a judge of men. I have seen thousands, and seen them + too close to be taken in by their outside. You are the only one of my + wife's friends that ever had the run of my study. What do you think of + that, now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very proud of it, sir; that is all I can find to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, young man, that same good opinion I have of you induces me to do + something else, that I have never done for any of your predecessors.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bazalgette paused. David's heart beat. Quick as lightning it darted + through his mind, “He is going to ask a favor for me. Promotion? Why not? + He is a merchant. He has friends in the Company.'” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to interfere in your concerns, Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I am. I have to overcome a natural reluctance. But you are + worth the struggle. I shall therefore go against the usages of the world, + which I don't care a button for, and my own habits, which I care a great + deal for, and give you, humph—a piece of friendly advice.” + </p> + <p> + David looked blank. + </p> + <p> + “Dodd, my boy, you are playing the fool in this house.” + </p> + <p> + David looked blanker. + </p> + <p> + “It is not your fault; you are led into it by one of those sweet creatures + that love to reduce men to the level of their own wisdom. You are in love, + or soon will be.” + </p> + <p> + David colored all over like a girl, and his face of distress was painful + to see. + </p> + <p> + “You need not look so frightened; I am your friend, not your enemy. And do + you really think others besides me have not seen what is going on? Now, + Dodd, my dear fellow, I am an old man, and you are a young one. Moreover, + I understand the lady, and you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, sir; I feel I cannot fathom her.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! Well, but I have known her longer than you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And on closer terms of intimacy.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen to me. She is all very charming outside, and full of + sensibility outside, but she has no more real feeling than a fish. She + will go a certain length with you, or with any agreeable young man, but + she can always stop where it suits her. No lady in England values position + and luxury more than she does, or is less likely to sacrifice them to + love, a passion she is incapable of. Here, then, is a game at which you + run all the risk. No! leave her to puppies like Kenealy; they are her + natural prey. You must not play such a heart as yours against a marble + taw. It is not an even stake.” + </p> + <p> + David groaned audibly. His first thought was, “Eve says the same of her.” + His second, “All the world is against her, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she to bear the blame of my folly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? She is the cause of your folly. It began with her setting her + cap at you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, you do her wrong. She is modesty itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ta! ta! ta! you are a sailor, green as sea-weed.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bazalgette, as I am a gentleman, she never has encouraged me to love + her as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Your statement, sir, is one which becomes a gentleman—under the + circumstances. But I happen to have watched her. It is a thing I have + taken the trouble to do for some time past. It was my interest in you that + made me curious, and apprehensive—on your account.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you have watched her, you must have seen her avoid me.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! pooh! that was drawing the bait; these old stagers can all do + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Old stagers!” and David looked as if blasphemy had been uttered. + Bazalgette wore a grin of infinite irony. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be shocked,” said he; “of course, I mean old in flirtation; no lady + is old in years.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>She</i> is not, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “It is agreed. There are legal fictions, and why not social ones?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you, sir; and, in truth, it is all a puzzle to me. You + don't seem angry with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course not, my poor fellow; I pity you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you discourage me, Mr. Bazalgette.” + </p> + <p> + “But not from any selfish motive. I want to spare you the mortification + that is in store for you. Remember, I have seen the <i>end</i> of about a + dozen of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! And what is the end of us?” + </p> + <p> + “The cold shoulder without a day's warning, and another fool set in your + place, and the house door slammed in your face, etc., etc. Oh, with her + there is but one step from flirtation to detestation. Not one of her + flames is her friend at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + David hung his head, and his heart turned sick; there was a silence of + some seconds, during which Bazalgette eyed him keenly. “Sir,” said David, + at last, “your words go through me like a knife.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. It is a friendly surgeon's knife, not an assassin's.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you say it is only out of regard for me you warn me so against her.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, if, by Heaven's mercy, you should be mistaken in her character—if, + little as I deserve it, I should succeed in winning her regard—I + might reckon on your permission—on your kind—support?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly,” said Mr. Bazalgette, hastily. He then stared at the honest + earnest face that was turned toward him. “Well,” said he, “you modest + gentlemen have a marvelous fund of assurance at bottom. No, sir; with the + exception of this piece of friendly advice I shall be strictly neutral. In + return for it, if you should succeed, be so good as to take her out of the + house, that is the only stipulation I venture to propose.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be sure to do that,” cried David, lifting his eyes to Heaven + with rapture; “but I shall not have the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “So I keep telling you. You might as well hope to tempt a statue of the + Goddess Flirtation. She infinitely prefers wealth and vanity to anything, + even to vice.” + </p> + <p> + “Vice, sir! is that a term for us to apply to a lady like her, whom we are + all unworthy to approach?” and David turned very red. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>you</i> need not quarrel with <i>me</i> about her, as <i>I</i> + don't with <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Quarrel with you, dear sir? I hope I feel your kindness, and know my duty + better; but, sir, I am agitated, and my heart is troubled; and surely you + go beyond reason. She is not old enough to have had so many lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! she has made good use of her time.” + </p> + <p> + “Even could I believe that she, who seems to me an angel, is a coquette, + still she cannot be hard and heartless as you describe her. It is + impossible; it does not belong to her years.” + </p> + <p> + “You keep harping on her age, Dodd. Do you know her age? If you do, you + have the advantage of me. I have not seen her baptismal register. Have + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, but I know what she says is her age.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only evidence of what is not her age.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is her face, sir; that is evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never seen her face; it is always got up to deceive the public.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it at the dawn, before any of you were up.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that? Halo! the deuce—where?” + </p> + <p> + “In the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “In the garden? Oh, she does not jump off her down-bed on to a flowerbed. + She had been an hour at work on that face before ever the sun or you got + leave to look on it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stake my head I tell her age within a year, Mr. Bazalgette.” + </p> + <p> + “No you will not, nor within ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “That is soon seen. I call her one-and-twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “One-and-twenty! You are mad! Why, she has had a child that would be + fifteen now if it had lived.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lucy? A child? Fifteen years? What on earth do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What do <i>you</i> mean? What has Miss Lucy to do with it? You know very + well it is MY WIFE I am warning you against, not that innocent girl.” + </p> + <p> + At this David burst out in his turn. “YOUR WIFE! and have you so vile an + opinion of me as to think I would eat your bread and tempt your wife under + your roof. Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, is this the esteem you profess for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the Devil!” shouted Bazalgette, in double ire at his own blunder + and at being taken to task by his own Telemachus; he added, but in a very + different tone, “You are too good for this world.” + </p> + <p> + The best things we say miss fire in conversation; only second-rate shots + hit the mind through the ear. This, we will suppose, is why David derived + no amusement or delectation from Mr. Bazalgette's inadvertent but + admirable <i>bon-mot.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Go to the Devil! you are too good for this world.” + </p> + <p> + He merely rose, and said gravely, “Heaven forgive you your unjust + suspicions, and God bless you for your other kindness. Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where on earth are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To stow away my things; to pack up, as they call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come back! come back! why, what a terrible fellow you are; you make no + allowances for metaphors. There, forgive me, and shake hands. Now sit + down. I esteem you more than ever. You have come down from another age and + a much better one than this. Now let us be calm, quiet, sensible, + tranquil. Hallo!” (starting up in agitation), “a sudden light bursts on + me. You are in love, and not with my wife; then it is my ward.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too late to deny it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That is far more serious than the other,” said Bazalgette, very gravely; + “the old one would have been sure to cure you of your fancy for her, soon + or late, but Lucy! Now, just look at that young buffer's eyes glaring at + us like a pair of saucers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not listening, papa; I haven't heard a word you and Mr. Dodd have + said about naughty ladies. I have been such a good boy, minding my + puzzle.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he may not have been minding ours instead,” muttered his sire, and + rang the bell, and ordered the servant to take away Master Reginald and + bring coffee. + </p> + <p> + The pair sipped their coffee in dead silence. It was broken at last by + David saying sadly and a little bitterly, “I fear, sir, your good opinion + of me does not go the length of letting me come into your family.” + </p> + <p> + The merchant seemed during the last five minutes to have undergone some + starching process, so changed was his whole manner now; so distant, + dignified and stiff. “Mr. Dodd,” said he, “I am in a difficult position. + Insincerity is no part of my character. When I say I have a regard for a + man, I mean it. But I am the young lady's guardian, sir. She is a minor, + though on the verge of her majority, and I cannot advise her to a match + which, in the received sense, would be a very bad one for her. On the + other hand, there are so many insuperable obstacles between you and her, + that I need not combat my personal sentiments so far as to act against + you; it would, indeed, hardly be just, as I have surprised your secret + unfairly, though with no unfair intention. My promise not to act hostilely + implies that I shall not reveal this conversation to Mrs. Bazalgette; if I + did I should launch the deadliest of all enemies—irritated vanity—upon + you, for she certainly looks on you as her plaything, not her niece's; and + you would instantly be the victim of her spite, and of her influence over + Lucy, if she discovered you have the insolence to escape her, and pursue + another of her sex. I shall therefore keep silence and neutrality. + Meantime, in the character, not of her guardian, but of your friend, I do + strongly advise you not to think seriously of her. She will never marry + you. She is a good, kind, amiable creature, but still she is a girl of the + world—has all its lessons at her finger ends. Bless your heart, + these meek beauties are as ambitious as Lucifer, and this one's ambition + is fed by constant admiration, by daily matrimonial discussions with the + old stager, and I believe by a good offer every now and then, which she + refuses, because she is waiting for a better. Come, now, it only wants one + good wrench—” + </p> + <p> + David interrupted him mildly: “Then, sir,” said he, thoughtfully; “the + upshot is that, if she says 'Yes,' you won't say 'No.'” + </p> + <p> + The mature merchant stared. + </p> + <p> + “If,” said he, and with this short sentence and a sardonic grin he broke + off trying + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To fetter flame with flaxen band.” + </pre> + <p> + So nothing more was said or done that evening worth recording. + </p> + <p> + The next day, being the day of the masquerade, was devoted by the ladies + to the making, altering, and trying on of dresses in their bedrooms. This + turned the downstairs rooms so dark and unlovely that the gentlemen + deserted the house one after the other. Kenealy and Talboys rode to see a + cricket match ten miles off. Hardie drove into the town of —— + and David paced the gravel walk in hopes that by keeping near the house he + might find Lucy alone, for he was determined to know his fate and end his + intolerable suspense. + </p> + <p> + He had paced the walk about an hour when fortune seemed to favor his + desires. Lucy came out into the garden. David's heart beat violently. To + his great annoyance, Mr. Fountain followed her out of the house and called + her. She stopped, and he joined her; and very soon uncle and niece were + engaged in a conversation which seemed so earnest that David withdrew to + another part of the garden not to interfere with them. + </p> + <p> + He waited, and waited, and waited till they should separate; but no, they + walked more and more slowly, and the conversation seemed to deepen in + interest. David chafed. If he had known the nature of that conversation he + would have writhed with torture as well as fretted with impatience, for + there the hand of her he loved was sought in marriage before his eyes, and + within a few steps of him. On such threads hangs human life. Had he been + at the hall door instead of in the garden, he might have anticipated Mr. + Fountain. As it was, Mr. Fountain stole the march on him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + TO-MORROW Lucy had agreed to sail, and in the boat Mr. Talboys was to ask + and win her band. But from the first Mr. Fountain had never a childlike + confidence in the scheme, and his understanding kept rebelling more and + more. + </p> + <p> + “'The man that means to pop, pops,” said he; “one needn't go to sea—to + pop. Terra firma is poppable on, if it is nothing else. These young + fellows are like novices with a gun: the bird must be in a position or + they can't shoot it—with their pop-guns. The young sparks in my day + could pop them down flying. We popped out walking, popped out riding, + popped dancing, popped psalm-singing. Talboys could not pop on horseback, + because the lady's pony fidgeted, not his. Well, it will be so to-morrow. + The boat will misbehave, or the wind will be easterly, and I shall be told + southerly is the popping wind. The truth is, he is faint-hearted. His + sires conquered England, and he is afraid of a young girl. I'll end this + nonsense. He shall pop by proxy.” + </p> + <p> + In pursuance of this resolve, seeing his niece pass through the hall with + her garden hat on, he called to her that he would get his hat and join + her. They took one turn together almost in silence. Fountain was thinking + how he should best open the subject, and Lucy waiting after her own + fashion, for she saw by the old man's manner he had something to say to + her. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, my dear, I leave you in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “So soon, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “And it depends on you whether I am to go away a happy or a disappointed + old man.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, to which she was too cautious to reply in words, Lucy wore + a puzzled air; but underneath it a keen observer might have noticed her + cheek pale a little, a very little, and a quiver of suppressed agitation + pass over her like a current of air in summer over a smooth lake. + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer, Mr. Fountain went on to remind her that he was her + only kinsman, Mrs. Bazalgette being her relation by half-blood only; and + told her that, looking on himself as her father, he had always been + anxious to see her position in life secured before his own death. + </p> + <p> + “I have been ambitious for you, my dear,” said he, “but not more so than + your beauty and accomplishments, and your family name entitle us to be. + Well, my ambition for you and my affection for you are both about to be + gratified; at least, it now rests with you to gratify them. Will you be + Mrs. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy looked down, and said demurely, “What a question for a third person + to put!” + </p> + <p> + “Should I put it if I had not a right?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.”' + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Talboys has authorized you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “He has.”' + </p> + <p> + “Then this is a formal proposal from Mr. Talboy's?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” said the old gentleman, fearlessly, for Lucy's manner + of putting these questions was colorless; nobody would have guessed what + she was at. + </p> + <p> + She now drew her arm round her uncle's neck, and kissed him, which made + him exult prematurely. + </p> + <p> + “Then, dear uncle,” said she lovingly, “you must tell Mr. Talboys that I + thank him for the honor he does me, and that I decline.” + </p> + <p> + “Accept, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No I don't—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Her laugh died rapidly away at sight of the effect of her words. Mr. + Fountain started, and his face turned red and pale alternately. + </p> + <p> + “Refuse my friend—refuse Talboys in that way? Thoughtless girl, you + don't know what you are doing. His family is all but noble. What am I + saying? noble? why, half the House of Peers is sprung from the dregs of + the people, and got there either by pettifogging in the courts of law, or + selling consciences in the Lower House; and of the other half, that are + gentlemen of descent, not two in twenty can show a pedigree like Talboys. + And with that name a princely mansion—antiquity stamped on it—stands + in its own park, in the middle of its vast estates, with title-deeds in + black-letter, girl.” + </p> + <p> + “But, uncle, all this is encumbered—” + </p> + <p> + “It is false, whoever told you so. There is not a mortgage on any part of + it—only a few trifling copyholds and pepper-corn rents.” + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me; I was going to say, it is encumbered with a + gentleman for whom I could never feel affection, because he does not + inspire me with respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! he inspires universal respect.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be by his estates, then, not his character. You know, uncle, the + world is more apt to ask, 'What <i>has</i> he, then what <i>is</i> he?'” + </p> + <p> + “He <i>is</i> a polished gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “But not a well-bred one.” + </p> + <p> + “The best bred I ever saw. + </p> + <p> + “Then you never looked in a glass, dear. No, dear uncle, I will tell you. + Mr. Talboys has seen the world, has kept good society, is at his ease (a + great point), and is perfect in externals. But his good manners are—what + shall I say?—coat deep. His politeness is not proof against + temptation, however petty. The reason is, it is only a spurious + politeness. Real politeness is founded and built on the golden rule, + however delicate and artificial its superstructure may be. But, leaving + out of the question the politeness of the heart, he has not in any sense + the true art of good-breeding; he has only the common traditions. Put him + in a novel situation, with no rules and examples to guide him, he would be + maladroit as a school-boy. He is just the counterpart of Mr. Dodd in that + respect. Poor Mr. Dodd is always shocking one by violating the commonest + rules of society; but every now and then he bursts out with a flash of + natural courtesy so bright, so refined, so original, yet so worthy of + imitation, that you say to yourself this is genius—the genius of + good-breeding.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain chafed with impatience during this tirade, in which he justly + suspected an attempt to fritter away a serious discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Come off your hobby, Lucy,” cried he, “and speak to me like a woman and + like my niece. If this is your objection, overcome it for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, dear,” said Lucy, “but it is only one of my objections, and by + no means the most serious.” + </p> + <p> + On being invited to come at once to the latter, Lucy hesitated. “Would not + that be unamiable on my part? Mr. Talboys has just paid me the highest + compliment a gentleman can pay a lady; it is for me to decline him + courteously, not abuse him to his friend and representative.” + </p> + <p> + “No humbug, Lucy, if you please; I am in no humor for it.” + </p> + <p> + “We should all be savages without a <i>little</i> of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Then pledge me your word of honor no word of what I now say to the + disadvantage of poor Mr. Talboys shall ever reach him.” + </p> + <p> + “You may take your oath of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is a detractor, a character I despise.” + </p> + <p> + “Who does he detract from? I never heard him.” + </p> + <p> + “From all his superiors—in other words, from everybody he meets. Did + you ever know him fail to sneer at Mr. Hardie?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is the offense, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is the same with others; there, the other day, Mr. Dodd joined us + on horseback. He did not dress for the occasion. He had no straps on. He + came in a hurry to have our society, not to cut a dash. But there was Mr. + Talboys, who can only do this one thing well, and who, thanks to his + servant, had straps on, sneering the whole time at Mr. Dodd, who has + mastered a dozen far more difficult and more honorable accomplishments + than putting on straps and sitting on horses. But he is always backbiting + and sneering; he admires nothing and nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “He has admired you ever since he saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “What! has he never sneered at me?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! ungrateful girl, never.” + </p> + <p> + “How humiliating! He takes me for his inferior. His superiors he always + sneers at. If he had seen anything good or spirited in me, he could not + have helped detracting from me. Is not this a serious reason—that I + despise the person who now solicits my love, honor and obedience? Well, + then, there is another—a stronger still. But perhaps you will call + it a woman's reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. You don't like him—that is, you fancy you don't, and + can't.” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle, it is not that I don't like him. It is that I HATE HIM.” + </p> + <p> + “You hate him?” and Mr. Fountain looked at her to see if it was his niece + Lucy who was uttering words so entirely out of character. + </p> + <p> + “I am but a poor hater. I have but little practice; but, with all the + power of hating I do possess, I hate that Mr. Talboys. Oh, how delicious + it is to speak one's mind out nice and rudely. It is a luxury I seldom + indulge in. Yes, uncle,” said Lucy, clinching her white teeth, “I hate + that man, and I did hope his proposal would come from himself; then there + would have been nothing to alloy my quiet satisfaction at mortifying one + who is so ready to mortify others. But no, he has bewitched you; and you + take his part, and you look vexed; so all my pleasure is turned to pain.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all self-deception,” gasped Fountain, in considerable agitation; + “you girls are always deceiving yourselves: you none of you hate any man—unless + you love him. He tells me you have encouraged him of late. You had better + tell me that is a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “A lie, uncle; what an expression! Mr. Talboys is a gentleman; he would + not tell a falsehood, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! it is true, then, you have encouraged him?” + </p> + <p> + “A little.” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see; the moment we come from the generalities to facts, what a + simpleton you are proved to be. Come, now, did you or did you not agree to + go in a boat with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a pretty strong measure, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Very strong, I think. I can tell you I hesitated.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you see how you have mistaken your own feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy hung her head. “Oh uncle, you call me simple—and look at you! + fancy not seeing why I agreed to go—<i>dans cette galere.</i> It was + that Mr. Talboys might declare himself, and so I might get rid of him + forever. I saw that if I could not bring him to the point, he would dangle + about me for years, and perhaps, at last, succeed in irritating me to + rudeness. But now, of course, I shall stay on shore with my uncle + to-morrow. <i>Qu'irais je faire dana cette galere?</i> you have done it + all for me. Oh, my dear, dear uncle, I am so grateful to you!” + </p> + <p> + She showed symptoms of caressing Mr. Fountain, but he recoiled from her + angrily. “Viper! but no, this is not you. There is a deeper hand than you + in all this. This is that Mrs. Bazalgette's doings.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a proof it is not.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure; any proof that is in my power.” + </p> + <p> + “Then promise me not to marry Mr. Hardie.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear uncle, Mr. Hardie has never asked me.” + </p> + <p> + “But he will.” + </p> + <p> + “What right have I to say so? What right have I to constitute Mr. Hardie + my admirer? I would not for all the world put it into any gentleman's + power to say, 'Why say “no,” Miss Fountain, before I have asked you to say + “yes”?' Oh!” + </p> + <p> + And, with this, Lucy put her face into her hands, but they were not large + enough to hide the deep blush that suffused her whole face at the bare + idea of being betrayed into an indelicacy of this sort. + </p> + <p> + “How could he say that? how could he know?” said Mr. Fountain, pettishly. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, I cannot, I dare not. You and my aunt hate one another; so you + might be tempted to tell her, and she would be sure to tell him. Besides, + I cannot; my very instinct revolts from it. It would not be modest. I love + you, uncle. Let me know your wishes, and have some faith in my affection, + but pray do not press me further. Oh, what have I done, to be spoken of + with so many gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was in evident agitation, and the blushes glowed more and more round + her snowy hands and between her delicate fingers; and there is something + so sacred about the modesty alarmed of an intelligent young woman—it + is a feeling which, however fantastical, is so genuine in her, and so + manifestly intense beyond all we can ourselves feel of the kind, that no + man who is not utterly stupid or depraved can see it without a certain + awe. Even Mr. Fountain, who looked on Lucy's distress as transcendent + folly with a dash of hypocrisy, could not go on making her cheek burn so. + “There! there!” cried he, “don't torment yourself, Lucy. I will spare your + fanciful delicacy, though you have no pity on me—on your poor old + uncle, whose heart you will break if you decline this match.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, and the old man's change from anger to sadness, Lucy + looked up in dismay, and the vivid color died, like a retiring wave, out + of her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “You look surprised, Lucy. What! do you think this will not be a + heartbreaking disappointment to me? If you knew how I have schemed for it—what + I have done and endured to bring it about! To quarter the arms of Fontaine + and Talboys! I put by the 5,000 pounds directly, and as much more of my + own, that you should not go into that noble family without a proper + settlement. It was the dream of my heart; I could have died contented the + next hour. More fool I to care for anybody but myself. Your selfish people + escape these bitter disappointments. Well, it is a lesson. From this hour + I will live for myself and care for nobody, for nobody cares for me.” + </p> + <p> + These words, uttered with great agitation, and, I believe, with perfect + sincerity, on his own unselfishness and hard fate, were terrible to Lucy. + She wreathed her arms suddenly round him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, uncle,” she cried, despairingly, “kill me! send me to Heaven! send me + to my mother, but don't stab me with such bitter words;” and she trembled + with an emotion so much more powerful and convulsing than his, in which + temper had a large share, that she once more cowed him. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” he muttered, “I don't want to kill you, child, God knows, + or to hurt you in any way.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy trembled, and tried to smile. The good nature, which was the upper + crust of this man's character, got the better of him. + </p> + <p> + “There! there! don't distress yourself so. I know who I have to thank for + all this.” + </p> + <p> + “She has not the power,” said Lucy, in a faint voice, “to make me + ungrateful to you.” + </p> + <p> + Mind is more rapid than lightning. At this moment, in the middle of a + sentence, it flashed across Lucy that her aunt had convinced her, sore + against her will, that there was a strong element of selfishness in Mr. + Fountain. “But it is that he deceives himself,” thought Lucy. “He would + sacrifice my happiness to his hobby, and think he has done it for love of + me.” Enlightened by this rapid reflection, she did not say to him as one + of his own sex would, “Look in your own heart, and you will see that all + this is not love of me, but of your own schemes.” Oh, dear, no, that would + not have been the woman. She took him round the neck, and, fixing her + sapphire eyes lovingly on his, she said, “It is for love of me you set + your heart on this great match? You wish to see me well settled in the + world, and, above all, happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is. I told you so. What other object can I have?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you saw me wretched, and degraded in my own eyes, your heart + would bleed for your poor niece—too late. Well, uncle, I love you, + too, and I save you this day from remorse. Oh, think what it must be to + hate and despise a man, and link yourself body and soul to that man for + life. Oh, think and shudder with me. I have a quick eye. I have seen your + lip curl with contempt when that fool has been talking—ah! you + blush. You are too much his superior in everything but fortune not to + despise him at heart. See the thing as it is. Speak to me as you would if + my mother stood here beside us, uncle, and to speak to me, you must look + her in the face. Could you say to me before her, 'I love you; marry a man + we both despise!'?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain made no answer. He was disconcerted. Nothing is so easy to + resist as logic solo. We see it, as a general rule, resisted with great + success in public and private every day; but when it comes in good + company, a voice of music, an angel face, gentle, persuasive caresses, and + imploring eyes, it ceases to revolt the understanding. And so, caught in + his own trap, foiled, baffled, soothed, caressed, all in one breath, Mr. + Fountain hung his head, and could not immediately reply. + </p> + <p> + Lucy followed up her advantage. “No,” cried she; “say to me, 'I love you, + Lucy; marry nobody; stay with your uncle, and find your happiness in + contributing to his comfort.'” + </p> + <p> + “What is the use my saying that, when I have got Mother Bazalgette against + me, and her shopkeeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, uncle, you say it, and time will show whether your influence + is small with me, and my affections small for you”; and she looked in his + face with glistening eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “I do say it, and I suppose that means I must urge + you no more about poor Talboys.” + </p> + <p> + A shower of kisses descended upon him that moment. Moral: Lose no time in + sealing a good bargain. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, Lucy, you must do me a favor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you! thank you! what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but it is about Talboys too.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” faltered Lucy, “if it is anything short of—” (full + stop). + </p> + <p> + “It is a long way short of that. Look here, Lucy, I must tell you the + truth. He intends to ask your hand himself: he confided this to me, but he + never authorized me to commit him as I have done, so that this + conversation cannot be acted on: it must be a secret between you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! and I thought I had got rid of him so nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed,” groaned Fountain; “such matches as this can always be + dropped; the difficulty is to bring them on. All I ask of you, then, is + not to make mischief between me and my friend, the proudest man in + England. If you don't value his friendship, I do. You must not let him + know I have got him insulted by a refusal. For instance, you had better go + out sailing with him to-morrow as if nothing had passed. Will your + affection for me carry you as far as that?” + </p> + <p> + The proposal was wormwood to Lucy. So she smiled and said eagerly: “Is + that all? Why, I will do it with pleasure, dear. It is not like being in + the same boat with him for life, you know. Can you give me nothing more + than that to do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it does not do to test people's affection too severely. You have + shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in.” + </p> + <p> + “May I not come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no dinner. + Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully avoided them + all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour”; and he left her + rather abruptly. + </p> + <p> + She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a + little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his disappointment, + justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less elastic force to resist a + mental blow. The sight of him creeping away disappointed, and leaning + heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at her cool but affectionate + heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he was quite out of sight, she + turned and paced the gravel slowly and sadly. It was new to her to refuse + her uncle anything, still more strange to have to refuse him a serious + wish. She was prepared, thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to + find the old man's heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over + her to call him back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and + intelligence that lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm. + Yet she felt almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her + age. She kept sighing; “Poor uncle!” and paced the gravel very slowly, + hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the walk David Dodd stood suddenly before her. He came + flurried on his own account, but stopped thunder-struck at her tears. + “What is the matter, Miss Lucy?”' said he, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, Mr. Dodd;” and they flowed afresh. + </p> + <p> + “Can I do anything for you, Miss Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you tell me what is the matter? Are you not friends with me + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I was put out by a very foolish circumstance, Mr. Dodd, and it is one + with which I shall not trouble you, nor any person of sense. I prefer to + retain your sympathy by not revealing the contemptible cause of my babyish—There!” + She shook her head proudly, as if tears were to be dispersed like + dewdrops. “There!” she repeated; and at this second effort she smiled + radiantly. + </p> + <p> + “It is like the sun coming out after a shower,” cried David rapturously. + </p> + <p> + “That reminds me I must be <i>going</i> in, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, Miss Lucy. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To arrange another shower, one of pearls, on a dress I am to wear + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + David sighed. “Ah! Miss Lucy, at sight of me you always make for the hall + door.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored. “Oh, do I? I really was not aware of that. Then I suppose I + am afraid of you. Is that what you would insinuate? “' + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss Lucy, you are not afraid of me; but I sometimes fear—” and + he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “It must blow very hard that day,” said Lucy, with a world of politeness. + Her tongue was too quick for him. He found it so, and announced the fact + after his fashion. “I can't tack fast enough to follow you,” said he + despondently. + </p> + <p> + “But you are not required to follow me,” replied this amiable eel, with + hypocritical benignity; “I am going to my aunt's room to do what I told + you. I leave you in charge of the quarter-deck.” So saying, she walked + slowly up the steps, and left David standing sorrowfully on the gravel. At + the top step Miss Lucy turned and inquired gently when he was to sail. He + told her the ship was expected to anchor off the fort to-morrow, but she + would not sail till she had got all her passengers on board. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Lucy, with an air of reflection. She then leaned in an easy + posture against the wall, and, whether it was that she relented a little, + or that, having secured her retreat, she was now indifferent to flight, + certain it is that she did after her own fashion what many a daughter of + Eve has done before her, and many a duchess and many a dairymaid will do + after La Fountain and I are gone from earth. A minute ago it had been, + “She must go directly.” The more opposition to her departure, the more + inexorable the necessity for her going; opposition withdrawn, and the door + open, she stayed no end. + </p> + <p> + Full twenty minutes did that young lady stand there unsolicited, and chat + with David Dodd in the kindest, sweetest, most amicable way imaginable. + </p> + <p> + She little knew she had an auditor—a female auditor, keen as a lynx. + </p> + <p> + All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined “a + pest in search of a playmate.” Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only came out + of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was waiting in + the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for once. The young + gentleman had recourse as a <i>pis aller</i> to his mamma. He invaded her + bedroom, and besought her piteously to play at battledoor. That lady, + sighing deeply at being taken from her dress, consented. Her soul not + being in it, she played very badly. Her cub did not fail to tell her so. + “Why, I can keep up a hundred with Mr. Dodd,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we all know Mr. Dodd is perfection,” said the lady with a sneer. She + was piqued with David. He had gone and left her in a brutal way, to make + his apologies to Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not,” said Reginald. “I have found him out. He is as unjust as + the rest of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! and, pray, what has he done?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, mamma, if you will promise not to tell papa, because he + told me not to listen, and I didn't listen, mamma, because, you know, a + gentleman always keeps his word; but they talked so loud the words would + come into my ear; I could not keep them out. Mamma, are there any naughty + ladies here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he called her all the names. He said she was a statue of flirtation.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy? no! the naughty lady—the one that had twelve husbands. He + kept warning him, and warning him, and then Mr. Dodd and papa they began + to quarrel almost, because Mr. Dodd said the naughty lady was quite young, + and papa said she was ever so old. Mr. Dodd said she was twenty-one. But + papa told him she must be more than that, because she had a child that + would be fifteen years old; only it died. How old would sister Emily be if + she was alive, mamma? La, mamma, how pretty you are: you have got red + cheeks like Lucy—redder, oh, ever so much redder—and in + general they are so pale before dinner. Let me kiss you, mamma. I do love + the ladies when their cheeks are red.” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very interesting, isn't it, dear mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “It is amusing, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not amusing—at least, what came after, isn't: it is + wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “It turned out it wasn't the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for, and + who do you think he is in love of?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not an idea.” + </p> + <h3> + “MY LUCY!!!” + </h3> + <p> + “Nonsense, child.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, mamma, it is not. He owned it plump.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure, love?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they say next?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don't know what the + meaning of them is one bit. But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I + suppose, for he said, 'So, then, the upshot is—' There, now, what is + upshot? I don't know. How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using + words that one doesn't know the meaning of.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, love! tell me. What came <i>after</i> upshot?” said Mrs. + Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye. + </p> + <p> + “How kind you are to-day, mamma! That is twice you have called me love, + and three times dear; only think. I should love you if you were always so + kind, and your cheeks as red as they are now.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind my cheeks. What did Mr. Dodd say? Try and remember—come—'The + upshot was—'” + </p> + <p> + “The upshot was—what was the upshot? I forget. No, I remember; the + upshot was, if Lucy said 'yes,' papa would not say 'no;' that meant to + marry him. Now didn't you promise me her ever so long ago—the day + you and I agreed if I went a whole day without being naughty once I should + have her for ever and ever? and I did go.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to Lucy's room, and tell her to come to me,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, in + a stern, thoughtful voice, which startled poor Reginald, coming so soon + after the <i>calinerie.</i> However, he told her it was no use his going + to Lucy's room, for she was out in the garden; he had seen her there + walking with Mr. Fountain. Reginald then ran to the window which commanded + the garden, to look for Lucy. He had scarcely reached it when he began to + squeak wildly, “Come here! come here! come here!” Mrs. Bazalgette was at + the window in a moment, and lo! at the end of the garden, walking slowly + side by side, were Lucy and Mr. Dodd. + </p> + <p> + Ridiculous as it may appear, a pang of jealousy shot through the married + flirt's heart that made her almost feel sick. This was followed at the + interval of half a second by as pretty a flame of hatred as ever the <i>spretoe + injuria formoe</i> lighted up in a coquette's heart. Doubt drove in its + smaller sting besides, and at sight of the couple she resolved to have + better evidence than Reginald's, especially as to Lucy's sentiments. The + plan she hit upon was effective, but vulgar, and must not be witnessed by + a boy of inconvenient memory and mistimed fluency. She got rid of him with + high-principled dexterity. “Reginald,” said she, sadly, “you are a naughty + boy, a disobedient boy, to listen when your papa told you not, and to tell + me a pack of falsehoods. I must either tell your papa, or I must punish + you myself; I prefer to do it myself, he would whip you so”; with this she + suddenly opened her dressing-room door, and pushed the terrible infant in, + and locked the door. She then told him through the keyhole he had better + cease yelling, because, if he kept quiet, his punishment would only last + half an hour, and she flew downstairs. There was a large hot-house with + two doors, one of which came very near to the house door that opened into + the garden. Mrs. Bazalgette entered the hothouse at the other end, and, + hidden by the exotic trees and flowers, made rapidly for the door Lucy and + David must pass. She found it wide open. She half shut it, and slipped + behind it, listening like a hare and spying like a hawk through the + hinges. And, strange as it may appear, she had an idea she should make a + discovery. As the finished sportsman watches a narrow ride in the wood, + not despairing by a snap-shot to bag his hare as she crosses it, though + seen but for a moment, so the Bazalgette felt sure that, as the couple + passed her ambush, something, either in the two sentences they might + utter, or, more probably, in their tones and general manner, would reveal + to one of her experience on what footing they were. + </p> + <p> + A shrewd calculation! But things will be things. They take such turns, I + might without exaggeration say twists, that calculation is baffled, and + prophecy dissolved into pitch and toss. This thing turned just as not + expected. <i>Primo,</i> instead of getting only a snap-shot, Mrs. + Bazalgette heard every word of a long conversation; and, <i>secundo,</i> + when she had heard it she could not tell for certain on what footing the + lady and gentleman were. At first, from their familiarity, she inclined to + think they were lovers; but, the more she listened, the more doubtful she + seemed. Lucy was the chief speaker, and what she said showed an + undisguised interest in her companion; but the subject accounted in great + measure for that; she was talking of his approaching voyage, of the + dangers and hardships of his profession, and of his return two years + hence, his chances of promotion, etc. But here was no proof positive of + love; they were acquaintances of some standing. Then Lucy's manner struck + her as rather amicable than amorous. She was calm, kind, self-possessed, + and almost voluble. As for David, he only got in a word here and there. + When he did, there was something so different in his voice from anything + he had ever bestowed on <i>her,</i> that she hated him, and longed to + stick scissors into him from the rear, unseen. At last Lucy suddenly + recollected, or seemed to recollect, she was busy, and retired hastily—so + hastily that David saw too late his opportunity lost. But the music of her + voice had so charmed him that he did not like to interrupt it even to + speak of that which was nearest his heart. David sighed deeply, standing + there alone. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette clinched her little fists and looked round for the means + of vengeance. David went down on his knees. La Bazalgette glared through + the crack, and wondered what on earth he was at now. Oh! he was praying. + “He loves her: he is eccentricity itself; so he is praying for her, and on + <i>my</i> doorsteps” (the householder wounded as well as the flirt). It + was lucky she had not “a thunderbolt in her eye”—Shakespeare, or a + celestial messenger of the wrong sort would have descended on the devout + mariner. It was more than Mrs. Bazalgette could bear: she had now and + then, not often, unladylike impulses. One of them had set her crouching + behind the door of an outhouse, and listening through a crack; and now she + had another, an irresistible one: it was, to take that empty flower-pot, + fling it as hard as ever she could at the devotee, then shut the door + quick, fly out at the other door, and leave her faithless swain in the + agony of knowing himself detected and exposed by some unknown and + undiscoverable enemy. + </p> + <p> + For a vengeance extemporized in less than half a second this was very + respectable. Well, she clawed the flower-pot noiselessly, put her other + hand on the door, cast a hasty glance at the means of retreat, and—things + took another twist: she heard the rustle of a coming gown, and drew back + again, and out came Lucy, and nearly ran over David, who was not on his + knees after all, but down on his nose, prostrate Orientally. The fact is, + Lucy, among her other qualities, good and bad, was a born housewife, and + solicitously careful of certain odds and ends called property. She found + she had dropped one of her gloves in the garden, and she came back in a + state of disproportionate uneasiness to find it, and nearly ran over David + Dodd. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>are</i> you doing, Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + David arose from his Oriental position, and, being a young man whose + impulse always was to tell the simple truth, replied, “I was kissing the + place where you stood so long.” + </p> + <p> + He did not feel he had done anything extraordinary, so he gave her this + information composedly; but her face was scarlet in an instant; and he, + seeing that, began to blush too. For once Lucy's tact was baffled; she did + not know what on earth to say, and she stood blushing like a girl of + fifteen. + </p> + <p> + Then she tried to turn it off. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd, how can you be so ridiculous?” said she, affecting humorous + disdain. + </p> + <p> + But David was not to be put down now; he was launched. + </p> + <p> + “I am not ridiculous for loving and worshiping you, for you are worthy of + even more love than any human heart can hold.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush, Mr. Dodd. I must not hear this.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lucy, I can't keep it any longer—you must, you shall hear me. + You can despise my love if you will, but you <i>shall</i> know it before + you reject it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd, you have every right to be heard, but let me persuade you not + to insist. Oh, why did I come back?” + </p> + <p> + “The first moment I saw you, Miss Lucy, it was a new life to me. I never + looked twice at any girl before. It is not your beauty only—oh, no! + it is your goodness—goodness such as I never thought was to be found + on earth. Don't turn your head from me; I know my defects; could I look on + you and not see them? My manners are blunt and rude—oh, how + different from yours! but you could soon make me a fine gentleman, I love + you so. And I am only the first mate of an Indiaman; but I should be a + captain next voyage, Miss Lucy, and a sailor like me has no expenses; all + he has is his wife's. The first lady in the land will not be petted as you + will, if you will look kindly on me. Listen to me,” trying to tempt her. + “No, Miss Lucy, I have nothing to offer you worth your acceptance, only my + love. No man ever loved woman as I love you; it is not love, it is + worship, it is adoration! Ah! she is going to speak to me at last!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy presented at this moment a strange contrast of calmness and + agitation. Her bosom heaved quickly, and she was pale, but her voice was + calm, and, though gentle, decided. + </p> + <p> + “I know you love me, Mr. Dodd, and I feared this. I have tried to save you + the mortification of being declined by one who, in many things, is your + inferior. I have even been rude and unkind to you. Forgive me for it. I + meant it kindly. I regret it now. Mr. Dodd, I thank you for the honor you + do me, but I cannot accept your love.” There was a pause, but David's + tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He was not surprised, yet he + was stupefied when the blow came. + </p> + <p> + At last he gasped out, “You love some other man?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me, for pity's sake; give me something to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to ask me such a question, but—I have no + attachment, Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then one word more. Is it because you cannot love me, or because I am + poor, and only first mate of an Indiaman?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i> I will not answer. You have no right to question a lady why + she—Stay! you wish to despise me. Well, why not, if that will cure + you of this unfortunate—Think what you please of me, Mr. Dodd,” + murmured Lucy, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know I can't,” cried David, despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you esteem me more than I deserve. Well, I esteem you, Mr. + Dodd. Why, then, can we not be friends? You have only to promise me you + will never return to this subject—come!” + </p> + <p> + “Me promise not to love you! What is the use? Me be your friend, and + nothing more, and stand looking on at the heaven that is to be another's, + and never to be mine? It is my turn to decline. Never. Betrothed lovers or + strangers, but nothing between! It would drive me mad. Away from you, and + out of sight of your sweet face, I may make shift to live, and go through + my duty somehow, for my mother's and sister's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wiser than I was, Mr. Dodd. Yes, we must part.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we must. I have got my answer, and a kinder one than I deserve; + and now what is the polite thing for me to do, I wonder?” David said this + with terrible bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “You frighten me,” sighed Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be frightened, sweet angel; there! I have been used to obey + orders all my life, and I am like a ship tossed in the breakers, and you + are calm—calm as death. Give me my orders, for God's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not for me to command you, Mr. Dodd. I have forfeited that right. + But listen to her who still asks to be your friend, and she will tell you + what will be best for you, and kindest and most generous to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about that last; the other is a waste of words.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, then. Your sister is somewhere in the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “She is at ——; how did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw her on your arm. I am glad she is so near—Oh, so glad! Bid my + uncle and aunt good-by; make some excuse. Go to your sister at once. <i>She</i> + loves you. She is better than I am, if you will but see us as we really + are. Go to her at once,” faltered Lucy, who disliked Eve, and Eve her. + </p> + <p> + “I will! I will! I have thought too little of my own flesh and blood. + Shall I go now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” murmured Lucy softly, trying to disarm the fatal word. “Forget me—and—forgive + me!” and, with this last word scarce audible, she averted her face, and + held out her hand with angelic dignity, modesty and pity. + </p> + <p> + The kind words and the gentle action brought down the stout heart that had + looked death in the face so often without flinching. “Forgive you, sweet + angel!” he cried; “I pray Heaven to bless you, and to make you as happy as + I am desolate for your sake. Oh, you show me more and more what I lose + this day. God bless you! God bless—” and David's heart filled to + choking, and he burst out sobbing despairingly, and the hot tears ran + suddenly from his eyes over her hand as he kissed and kissed it. Then, + with an almost savage feeling of shame (for these were not eyes that were + wont to weep), he uttered one cry of despair and ran away, leaving her + pale and panting heavily. + </p> + <p> + She looked piteously at her hand, wet with a hero's tears, and for the + second time to-day her own began to gush. She felt a need of being alone. + She wanted to think on what she had done. She would hide in the garden. + She ran down the steps; lo! there was Mr. Hardie coming up the + gravel-walk. She uttered a little cry of impatience, and dashed + impetuously into the hot-house, driving the half-open door before her with + her person as well as her arm. + </p> + <p> + A scream of terror and pain issued from behind it, with a crash of + pottery. + </p> + <p> + Lucy wheeled round at the sound, and there was her aunt, flattened against + the flower-frame. + </p> + <p> + Lucy stood transfixed. + </p> + <p> + But soon her look of surprise gave way to a frown; ay! and a somber one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + THAT ready-minded lady extricated herself from the pots, and wriggled out + of the moral situation. “I was a listener, dear! an unwilling listener; + but now I do not regret it. How nobly you behaved!” and with this she came + at her with open arms, crying, “My own dear niece.” + </p> + <p> + Her own dear niece recoiled with a shiver, and put up both her hands as a + shield. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't touch me, please. I never heard of a lady listening!!!!” + </p> + <p> + She then turned her back on her aunt in a somewhat uncourtier-like manner, + and darted out of the place, every fiber of her frame strung up tight with + excitement. She felt she was not the calm, dispassionate being of + yesterday, and hurried to her own room and locked herself in. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette remained behind in a state of bitter mortification, and + breathing fury on her small scale. But what could she do? David would be + out of her reach in a few minutes, and Lucy was scarce vulnerable. + </p> + <p> + In the absence of any definite spite, she thought she could not go wrong + in thwarting whatever Lucy wished, and her wish had been that David should + go. Besides, if she kept him in the house, who knows, she might pique him + with Lucy, and even yet turn him her way; so she lay in wait for him in + the hall. He soon appeared with his bag in his hand. She inquired, with + great simplicity, where he was going. He told her he was going away. She + remonstrated, first tenderly, then almost angrily. “We all counted on you + to play the violin. We can't dance to the piano alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, but I have got my orders.” Then this subtle lady said, + carelessly, “Lucy will be <i>au desespoir.</i> She will get no dancing. + She said to me just now, 'Aunt, do try and persuade Mr. Dodd to stay over + the ball. We shall miss him so.'” + </p> + <p> + “When did she say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Just this minute. Standing at the door there.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; then I'll stay over the ball.” And without a word more he + carried his bag and violin-case up to his room again. Oh, how La + Bazalgette hated him! She now resigned all hope of fighting with him, and + contented herself with the pleasure of watching him and Lucy together. One + would be wretched, and the other must be uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + Lucy did not come down to dinner; she was lying down with headache. She + even sent a message to Mrs. Bazalgette to know whether she could be + dispensed with at the ball. Answer, “Impossible!” At half-past eight she + got up, put on her costume, took it off again, and dressed in white + watered silk. Her assumption of a character was confined to wearing a + little crown rising to a peak in front. Many of the guests had arrived + when she glided into the room looking every inch a queen. David was + dazzled at her, and awestruck at her beauty and mien, and at his own + presumption. + </p> + <p> + Her eye fell on him. She gave a little start, but passed on without a + word. The carpets had been taken up, and the dancing began. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette arranged that Lucy and David should play pianoforte and + violin until some lady could be found to take her part. + </p> + <p> + I incline to think Mrs. Bazalgette, spiteful as mortified vanity is apt to + be, did not know the depth of anguish her subtle vengeance inflicted on + David Dodd. + </p> + <p> + He was pale and stern with the bitter struggle for composure. He ground + his teeth, fixed his eyes on the music-book, and plowed the merry tunes as + the fainting ox plows the furrow. He dared not look at Lucy, nor did he + speak to her more than was necessary for what they were doing, nor she to + him. She was vexed with him for subjecting himself and her to unnecessary + pain, and in the eye of society—her divinity. + </p> + <p> + Another unhappy one was Mr. Fountain. He sat disconsolate on a seat all + alone. Mrs. Bazalgette fluttered about like a butterfly, and sparkled like + a Chinese firework. + </p> + <p> + Two young ladies, sisters, went to the piano to give Miss Fountain an + opportunity of dancing. She danced quadrilles with four or five gentlemen, + including her special admirers. She declined to waltz: “I have a little + headache; nothing to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + She then sat down to the piano again. “I can play alone, Mr. Dodd; you + have not danced at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the humor.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + This time they played some of the tunes they had rehearsed together that + happy evening, and David's lip quivered. + </p> + <p> + Lucy eyed him unobserved. + </p> + <p> + “Was this wise—to subject yourself to this?” + </p> + <p> + “I must obey orders, whatever it costs me—'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti + tum.'” + </p> + <p> + “Who ordered you to neglect my advice?—'ri tum tum tum.'” + </p> + <p> + <i>“You</i> did—'ri tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'” + </p> + <p> + A look of silent disdain: “Ri tum, ti tum, tiddy iddy.” (Ah! perdona for + relating things as they happen, and not as your grand writers pretend they + happen.) + </p> + <p> + Between the quadrilles she asked an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Your aunt met me with my bag in my hand, and told me you wanted me to + play to the company.” + </p> + <p> + When he said this, David heard a sound like the click of a trigger. He + looked up; it was Lucy clinching her teeth convulsively. But time was up: + the woman of the world must go on like the prizefighter. The couples were + waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.” For all that, she did not finish + the tune. In the middle of it she said to David, “'Ri tum ti tum—' + can you get through this without me?—'ri tum.'” + </p> + <p> + “If I can get through life without you, I can surely get through this + twaddle: 'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'” Lucy started from her + seat, leaving David plowing solo. She started from her seat and stood a + moment, looking like an angel stung by vipers. Her eye went all round the + room in one moment in search of some one to blight. It surprised Mr. + Hardie and Mrs. Bazalgette sitting together and casting ironical glances + pianoward: “So she has been betraying to Mr. Hardie the secret she gained + by listening,” thought Lucy. The pair were probably enjoying David's + mortification, his misery. + </p> + <p> + She walked very slowly down the room to this couple. She looked them long + and full in the face with that confronting yet overlooking glance which + women of the world can command on great occasions. It fell, and pressed on + them both like lead, they could not have told you why. They looked at one + another ruefully when she had passed them, and then their eyes followed + her. They saw her walk straight up to her uncle, and sit down by him, and + take his hand. They exchanged another uneasy look. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” said Lucy, speaking very quickly, “you are unhappy. I am the + cause. I am come to say that I promise you not to marry anyone my aunt + shall propose to me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl, then you won't marry that shopkeeper there?” + </p> + <p> + “What need of names, still less of epithets? I will marry no friend of + hers.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now you are my brother's daughter again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I love you no better than I did this morning; but the—” + </p> + <p> + Celestial happiness diffused itself over old Fountain's face, and Lucy + glided back to the piano just as the quadrille ended. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your arm, Mr. Dodd,” said she, authoritatively. She took his arm, + and made the tour of the room leaning on him, and chatting gayly. + </p> + <p> + She introduced him to the best people, and contrived to appear to the + whole room joyous and flattered, leaning on David's arm. + </p> + <p> + The young fellows envied him so. + </p> + <p> + Every now and then David felt her noble white arm twitch convulsively, and + her fingers pinch the cloth of his sleeve where it was loose. + </p> + <p> + She guided him to the supper-room. It was empty. “Oblige me with a glass + of water.” + </p> + <p> + He gave it her. She drank it. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd, the advice I gave you with my own lips I never retracted. My + aunt imposed upon you. It was done to mortify you. It has failed, as you + may have observed. My head aches so, it is intolerable. When they ask you + where I am, say I am unwell, and have retired to my room. I shall not be + at breakfast; directly after breakfast go to your sister, and tell her + your friend Lucy declined you, though she knows your value, and would not + let you be mortified by nullities and heartless fools. Good-by, Mr. Dodd; + try and believe that none of us you leave in this house are worth + remembering, far less regretting.” + </p> + <p> + She vanished haughtily; David crept back to the ball-room. It seemed dark + by comparison now she who lent it luster was gone. He stayed a few + minutes, then heavy-hearted to bed. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he shook hands with Mr. Bazalgette, the only one who was + up, kissed the terrible infant, who, suddenly remembering his many + virtues, formally forgave him his one piece of injustice, and, as he came, + so he went away, his bag on his shoulder and his violin-case in his hand. + </p> + <p> + He went to Cousin Mary and asked for Eve. Cousin Mary's face turned red: + “You will find her at No. 80 in this street. She is gone into lodgings.” + The fact is, the cousins had had a tiff, and Eve had left the house that + moment. + </p> + <p> + Oh! my sweet, my beloved heroines—you young vipers, when will you + learn to be faultless, like other people? You have turned my face into a + peony, blushing for you at every fourth page. + </p> + <p> + David came into her apartment. He smiled sweetly, but sadly. “Well, it is + all over. I have offered, and been declined.” + </p> + <p> + At seeing him so quiet and resigned, Eve burst out crying. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you cry, dear,” said David. “It is best so. It is almost a relief. + Anything before the suspense I was enduring.” + </p> + <p> + Then Eve, recovering her spirits by the help of anger, began to abuse Lucy + for a cold-hearted, deceitful girl; but David stopped her sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word against her—not a word. I should hate anyone that + miscalled her. She speaks well of you, Eve; why need you speak ill of her? + She and I parted friends, and friends let us be. There is no hate can lie + alongside love in a true heart. No, let nobody speak of her at all to me. + I shan't; my thoughts, they are my own. 'Go to your sister,' said she, and + here I am; and I beg your pardon, Eve, for neglecting you as I have of + late.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind <i>that,</i> David; <i>our</i> affection will outlast this + folly many a long year.” + </p> + <p> + “Please God! Your hand in mine, Eve, my lamb, and let us talk of ourselves + and mother: the time is short.” + </p> + <p> + They sat hand in hand, and never mentioned Lucy's name again; and, strange + to say, it was David who consoled Eve; for, now the battle was lost, her + spirit seemed to have all deserted her, and she kept bursting out crying + every now and then irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + It was three in the afternoon. David was sitting by the window, and Eve + packing his chest in the same room, not to be out of his sight a minute, + when suddenly he started up and cried, “There she is,” and an instinctive + unreasonable joy illumined his face; the next moment his countenance fell. + </p> + <p> + The carriage passed down the street. + </p> + <p> + “I remember now,” muttered David, “I heard she was to go sailing, and Mr. + Talboys was to be skipper of the boat. Ah! well.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let them sail, David. It is not your business.” + </p> + <p> + “That it is not, Eve—nobody's less than mine. + </p> + <p> + “Eve, there is plenty of wind blowing up from the nor'east.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there? I am afraid that will bring your ship down quick.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but it is not that. I am afraid that lubber won't think of looking + to windward.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense about the wind; it is a beautiful day. Come, David, it is no use + lighting against nature. Put on your hat, then, and run down to the beach, + and see the last of her; only, for my sake, don't let the others see you, + to jeer you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “And mind and be back to dinner at four. I have got a nice roast fowl for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay ay.” + </p> + <p> + A little before four o'clock a sailor brought a note from David, written + hastily in pencil. It was sent up to Eve. She read it, and clasped her + hands vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, David, she was born to be your destruction.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + MR. FOUNTAIN, Miss Fountain, and Mr. Talboys started to go on the boating + expedition. As they were getting into the boat, Mr. Fountain felt a little + ill, and begged to be excused. Mr. Talboys offered to return with him. He + declined: “Have your little sail. I will wait at the inn for you.” + </p> + <p> + This pantomime had, I blush to say, been arranged beforehand. Miss + Fountain, we may be sure, saw through it, but she gave no sign. A lofty + impassibility marked her demeanor, and she let them do just what they + liked with her. + </p> + <p> + The boat was launched, the foresail set, and Fountain remained on shore in + anything but a calm and happy state. + </p> + <p> + But friendships like these are not free from dross; and I must confess + that among the feelings which crossed his mind was a hope that Talboys + would pop, and be refused, as <i>he</i> had been. Why should he, Fountain, + monopolize defeat? We should share all things with a friend. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, by one of those caprices to which her sex are said to be + peculiarly subject, Lucy seemed to have given up all intention of carrying + out her plan for getting rid of Mr. Talboys. Instead of leading him on to + his fate, she interposed a subtle but almost impassable barrier between + him and destruction; her manner and deportment were of a nature to freeze + declarations of love upon the human lip. She leaned back languidly and + imperially on the luxurious cushions, and listlessly eyed the sky and the + water, and ignored with perfect impartiality all the living creatures in + the boat. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys endeavored in vain to draw her out of this languid mood. He + selected an interesting subject of conversation to—himself; he told + her of his feats yachting in the Mediterranean; he did not tell her, + though, that his yacht was sailed by the master and not by him, her + proprietor. In reply to all this Lucy dropped out languid monosyllables. + </p> + <p> + At last Talboys got piqued and clapped on sail. + </p> + <p> + There had not been a breath of air until half an hour before they started; + but now a stiff breeze had sprung up; so they had smooth water and yet + plenty of wind, and the boat cut swiftly through-the bubbling water. + </p> + <p> + “She walks well,” said the yachtsman. + </p> + <p> + Lucy smiled a gracious, though still rather too queenly assent. I think + the motion was pleasing her. Lively motion is very agreeable to her sex. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very fast boat,” said Mr. Talboys. “I should like to try her + speed. What do you say, Miss Fountain?” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” said Lucy, in a tone that expressed her utter + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Here is this lateen-rigged boat creeping down on our quarter; we will + stand east till she runs down to us, and then we will run by her and + challenge her.” Accordingly Talboys stood east. + </p> + <p> + But he did not get his race; for, somewhat to his surprise, the + lateen-rigged boat, instead of holding her course, which was about + south-southwest, bore up directly and stood east, keeping about half a + mile to windward of Talboys. + </p> + <p> + This puzzled Talboys. “They are afraid to try it,” said he. “If they are + afraid of us sailing on a wind, they would not have much chance with us in + beating to windward. A lugger can lie two points nearer the wind than a + schooner.” + </p> + <p> + All this science was lost on Lucy. She lay back languid and listless. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboy's crew consisted of a man and a boy. He steered the boat + himself. He ordered them to go about and sail due west. It was no sooner + done than, lo and behold, the schooner came about and sailed west, keeping + always half a mile to windward. + </p> + <p> + “That boat is following us, Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” inquired she; “is it my uncle coming after us?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I see no one aboard but a couple of fishermen.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not fishermen,” put in the boy; “they are sailors—coastguard + men, likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Mr. Talboys, “your uncle would run down to us at once, but + these keep waiting on us and dogging us. Confound their impudence.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all fancy,” said Lucy; “run away as fast as you can that way,” and + she pointed down the wind, “and you will see nobody will take the trouble + to run after us.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoist the mainsail,” cried Talboys. + </p> + <p> + They had hitherto been sailing under the foresail only. In another minute + they were running furiously before the wind with both sails set. The boat + yawed, and Lucy began to be nervous; still, the increased rapidity of + motion excited her agreeably. The lateen-schooner, sailing under her + fore-sail only, luffed directly and stood on in the lugger's wake. Lucy's + cheek burned, but she said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “There,” cried Talboys, “now do you believe me? I think we gain on her, + though.” + </p> + <p> + “We are going three knots to her two, sir,” said the old man, “but it is + by her good will; that is the fastest boat in the town, sailing on a wind; + at beating to windward we could tackle her easy enough, but not at running + free. Ah! there goes her mainsel up; I thought she would not be long + before she gave us that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how beautiful!” cried Lucy; “it is like a falcon or an eagle sailing + down on us; it seems all wings. Why don't we spread wings too and fly + away?” + </p> + <p> + “You see, miss,” explained the boatman, “that schooner works her sails + different from us; going down wind she can carry her mainsel on one side + of the craft and her foresel on the other. By that she keeps on an even + keel, and, what is more, her mainsel does not take the wind out of her + foresel. Bless you, that little schooner would run past the fastest + frigate in the king's service with the wind dead aft as we have got it + now; she is coming up with us hand over head, and as stiff on her keel as + a rock; this is her point of sailing, beating to windward is ours. Why, if + they ain't reefing the foresel, to make the race even; and there go three + reefs into her mainsel too.” The old boatman scratched his head. + </p> + <p> + “Who is aboard her, Dick? they are strangers to me.” + </p> + <p> + By taking in so many reefs the lateen had lowered her rate of sailing, and + she now followed in their wake, keeping a quarter of a mile to windward. + </p> + <p> + Talboys lost all patience. “Who is it, I wonder, that has the insolence to + dog us so?” and he looked keenly at Miss Fountain. + </p> + <p> + She did not think herself bound to reply, and gazed with a superior air of + indifference on the sky and the water. + </p> + <p> + “I will soon know,” said Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter?” inquired Lucy. “Probably somebody who is wasting + his time as we are.” + </p> + <p> + “The road we are on is as free to him as to us,” suggested the old + boatman, with a fine sense of natural justice. He added, “But if you will + take my advice, sir, you will shorten sail, and put her about for home. It + is blowing half a gale of wind, and the sea will be getting up, and that + won't be agreeable for the young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Gale of wind? Nonsense,” said Talboys; “it is a fine breeze.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, sir,” said Lucy to the old man; “I love the sea, but I + should not like to be out in a storm.” + </p> + <p> + The old boatman grinned. “'Storm is a word that an old salt reserves for + one of those hurricanes that blow a field of turnips flat, and teeth down + your throat. You can turn round and lean your back against it like a post; + and a carrion-crow making for the next parish gets fanned into another + county. That is a storm.” + </p> + <p> + The old boatman went forward grinning, and he and his boy lowered the + mainsail. Then Talboys at the helm brought the boat's head round to the + wind. She came down to her bearings directly, which is as much as to say + that to Lucy she seemed to be upsetting. + </p> + <p> + Lucy gave a little scream. The sail, too, made a report like the crack of + a pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what is that?” cried Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Wind, mum,” replied the boatman, composedly. + </p> + <p> + “What is that purple line on the water, sir, out there, a long way beyond + the other boat? + </p> + <p> + “Wind, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to move. It is coming this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, mum, that is a thing that always makes to leeward,” said the old + fellow, grinning. “I'll take in a couple of reefs before it comes to us.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the moment the lugger lowered her mainsail, the schooner, + divining, as it appeared, her intention, did the same, and luffed + immediately, and was on the new tack first of the two. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, my lass,” said the old boatman, “you are smartly handled, no doubt, + but your square stern and your try-hanglar sail they will take you to + leeward of us pretty soon, do what you can.” + </p> + <p> + The event seemed to justify this assertion; the little lugger was on her + best point of sailing, and in about ten minutes the distance between the + two boats was slightly but sensibly diminished. The lateen, no doubt, + observed this, for she began to play the game of short tacks, and hoisted + her mainsail, and carried on till she seemed to sail on her beam-ends, to + make up, as far as possible, by speed and smartness for what she lost by + rig in beating to windward. + </p> + <p> + “They go about quicker than we do,” said Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they do; they have not got to dip their sail, as we have, every + time we tack.” + </p> + <p> + This was the true solution, but Mr. Talboys did not accept it. + </p> + <p> + “We are not so smart as we ought to be. Now you go to the helm, and I and + the boy will dip the lug.” + </p> + <p> + The old boatman took the helm as requested, and gave the word of command + to Mr. Talboys. “Stand <i>by</i> the foretack.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Talboys, “here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Let <i>go</i> the fore-tack”; and, contemporaneously with the order, he + brought the boat's head round. + </p> + <p> + Now this operation is always a nice one, particularly in these small + luggers, where the lug has to be dipped, that is to say, lowered, and + raised again on the opposite side of the mast; for the lug should not be + lowered a moment too soon, or the boat, losing her way, would not come + round; nor a moment too late, lest the sail, owing to the new position the + boat is taking under the influence of the rudder, should receive the wind + while between the wind and the mast, and so the craft be taken aback, than + which nothing can well happen more disastrous. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys, though not the accomplished sailor he thought himself, knew + this as well as anybody, and with the boy's help he lowered the sail at + the right moment; but, getting his head awkwardly in the way, the yard, in + coming down, hit him on the nose and nearly knocked him on to his + beam-ends. It would have been better if it had done so quite instead of + bounding off his nose on to his shoulder and there resting; for, as it + was, the descent of the sail being thus arrested half-way at the critical + moment, and the boat's head coming round all the same, a gust of wind + caught the sail and wrapped it tight round the mast to windward. The boy + uttered a cry of terror so significant that Lucy trembled all over, and by + an uncontrollable impulse leaned despairingly back and waved her white + handkerchief toward the antagonist boat. The old boatman with an oath + darted forward with an agility he could not have shown ashore. + </p> + <p> + The effect on the craft was alarming. If the whole sail had been thus + taken aback, she would have gone down like lead; for, as it was, she was + driven on her side and at the same time driven back by the stern; the + whole sea seemed to rise an inch above her gunwale; the water poured into + her at every drive the gusts of wind gave her, and the only wonder seemed + why the waves did not run clean over her. + </p> + <p> + In vain the old boatman, cursing and swearing, tugged at the canvas to + free it from the mast. It was wrapped round it like Dejanira's shirt, and + with as fatal an effect; the boat was filling; and as this brought her + lower in the water, and robbed her of much of her buoyancy, and as the + fatal cause continued immovable, her destruction was certain. + </p> + <p> + Every cheek was blanched with fear but Lucy's, and hers was red as fire + ever since she waved her handkerchief; so powerful is modesty with her + sex. A true virgin can blush in death's very grasp. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this agitation and terror, suddenly the boat was hailed. + They all looked up, and there was the lateen coming tearing down on them + under all her canvas, both her broad sails spread out to the full, one on + each side. She seemed all monstrous wing. The lugger being now nearly head + to wind, she came flying down on her weather bow as if to run past her, + then, lowering her foresail, made a broad sweep, and brought up suddenly + between the lugger and the wind. As her foresail fell, a sailor bounded + over it on to the forecastle, and stood there with one foot on the + gunwale, active as Mercury, eye glowing, and a rope in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by to lower your mast,” roared this sailor in a voice of thunder to + the boatman of the lugger; and the moment the schooner came up into the + wind athwart the lugger's bows he bounded over ten feet of water into her, + and with a turn of the hand made the rope fast to her thwart, then hauling + upon it, brought her alongside with her head literally under the + schooner's wing. + </p> + <p> + He and the old boatman then instantly unstepped the mast and laid it down + in the boat, sail and all. It was not his great strength that enabled them + to do this (a dozen of him could not have done it while the wind pressed + on the mast); it was his address in taking all the wind out of the lug by + means of the schooner's mainsail. The old man never said a word till the + work was done; then he remarked, “That was clever of you.” + </p> + <p> + The new-comer took no notice whatever. “Reef that sail, Jack,” he cried; + “it will be in the lady's face by and by; and heave your bailer in here; + their boat is full of water.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so full as it would if you hadn't brought up alongside,” said the old + boatman. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to frighten the lady?” replied the sailor, in his driest and + least courtier-like way. + </p> + <p> + “I am not frightened, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy. “I was, but I am not now.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and help me get the water out of her, Jack. Stay! Miss Fountain had + better step into the dry boat, meantime. Now, Jack, look alive; lash her + longside aft.” + </p> + <p> + This done, the two sailors, one standing on the lugger's gunwale, one on + the schooner's, handed Miss Fountain into the schooner, and gave her the + cushions of the lugger to sit upon. They then went to work with a will, + and bailed half a ton of water out. + </p> + <p> + When she was dry David jumped back into his own boat. “Now, Miss Fountain, + your boat is dry, but the sea is getting up, and I think, if I were you, I + would stay where you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to,” said the lady, calmly. “Mr. Talboys, <i>would</i> you mind + coming into this boat? We shall be safer here; it—it is larger.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman thus addressed was embarrassed between two mortifications, + one on each side him. If he came into David's boat he would be second + fiddle, he who had gone out of port first fiddle. If he stuck to the + lugger Lucy would go off with Dodd, and he would look like a fool coming + ashore without her. He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + David got impatient. “Come, sir,” he cried, “don't you hear the lady + invite you? and every moment is precious.” And he held out his hand to + him. + </p> + <p> + Talboys decided on taking it, and he even unbent so far as to jump + vigorously—so vigorously that, David pulling him with force at the + same moment, he came flying into the schooner like a cannon-ball, and, + toppling over on his heels, went down on the seat with his head resting on + the weather gunwale, and his legs at a right angle with his back. + </p> + <p> + “That is one way of boarding a craft,” muttered David, a little + discontentedly; then to the old boatman: “Here, fling us that tarpaulin. I + say, here is more wind coming; are you sure you can work that lugger, you + two?” + </p> + <p> + “We will be ashore before you can, now there's nobody to bother us,” was + the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + “Then cast loose; here we are, drifting out to sea.” + </p> + <p> + The old man cast the rope loose; David hauled it on board, and the + schooner shot away from her companion and bore up north-north-west, + leaving the luggar rocking from side to side on the rising waves. But the + next minute Lucy saw her sail rise, and she bore up and stood northeast. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by to you, little horror,” said Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “We shall fall in with her a good many times more before we make the + land,” said David Dodd. + </p> + <p> + Lucy inquired what he meant; but he had fallen to hauling the sheet aft + and making the sail stand flatter, and did not answer her. Indeed, he + seemed much more taken up with Jack than with her, and, above all, + entirely absorbed in the business of sailing the boat. + </p> + <p> + She was a little mortified at this behavior, and held her tongue. Talboys + was sulky, and held his. It was a curious situation. In the hurry and + bustle, none of the parties had realized it; but now, as the boat breasted + the waves, and all was silent on board, they had time to review their + position. + </p> + <p> + Talboys grew gloomier and gloomier at the poor figure he cut. Lucy kept + blushing at intervals as she reflected on the obligation she had laid + herself under to a rejected lover. The rejected lover alone seemed to mind + his business and nothing else; and, as he was almost ludicrously + unconscious that he was doing a chivalrous action, a misfortune to which + those who do these things are singularly liable, he did not gild the + transaction with a single graceful speech, and permitted himself to be + more occupied with the sails than with rescued beauty. + </p> + <p> + Succeeding events, however, explained, and in some degree excused, this + commonplace behavior. + </p> + <p> + The next time they tacked some spray came flying in, and wetted all hands. + Lucy laughed. The lugger had also tacked, and the two boats were now + standing toward each other; when they met the lugger had weathered on them + some sixty or seventy yards. + </p> + <p> + A furious rain now came on almost horizontally, and the sailors arranged + the tarpaulin so as to protect Mr. Talboys and Miss Fountain. + </p> + <p> + “But you will be wet through yourself, Mr. Dodd. Will you not come under + shelter too?” + </p> + <p> + “And who is to sail the boat?” He added, “I am glad to see the rain. I + hope it will still the wind; if it doesn't, we shall have to try something + else, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, when do you undertake to land us, Mr. Dodd?” inquired Mr. Talboys, + superciliously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, if it does not blow any harder, about eight bells.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight bells? Why, that means midnight,” exclaimed Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “Wind and tide both dead against us,” replied David, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Dodd, tell me the truth: is there any danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Danger? Not that I see; but it is very uncomfortable, and unbecoming, for + you to be beating to windward against the tide for so many hours, when you + ought to be sitting on the sofa at home. However, next time you run out of + port, I hope those that take charge of you will look to the almanac for + the tide, and look to windward for the weather: Jack, the lugger lies + nearer the wind than we do. + </p> + <p> + “A little, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take the helm a minute, Mr. Talboys? and <i>you</i> come forward + and unbend this.” The two sailors put their heads together amidships, and + spoke in an undertone. “The wind is rising with the rain instead of + falling.” + </p> + <p> + “'Seems so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, it has been blowing harder and harder ever since we came out, + and very steady.” + </p> + <p> + “It will turn out one of those dry nor'easters, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder, sir. I wish she was cutter-rigged, sir. A boat has no + business to be any other rig but cutter; there ought to be a nact o' + parliam't against these outlandish rigs.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I have seen wonders done with this lateen rig in the + Pacific.” + </p> + <p> + “The lugger forereaches on us, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A little, but, for all that, I am glad she is on board our craft; we have + got more beam, and, if it comes to the worst, we can run. The lugger can't + with her sharp stern. I'll go to the helm.” + </p> + <p> + Just as David was stepping aft to take the helm, a wave struck the boat + hard on the weather bow, close to the gunwale, and sent a bucket of salt + water flying all over him; he never turned his head even—took no + more notice of it than a rock does when the sea spits at it. Lucy shrieked + and crouched behind the tarpaulin. David took the helm, and, seeing + Talboys white, said kindly: “Why don't you go forward, sir, and make + yourself snug under the folksel deck? she is sure to wet us abaft before + we can make the land.” + </p> + <p> + No. Talboys resisted his inclination and the deadly nausea that was + creeping over him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, but I like to see what is going on; and” (with an heroic + attempt at sea-slang) “I like a wet boat.” + </p> + <p> + They now fell in with the lugger again lying on the opposite tack, and a + hundred yards at least to windward. + </p> + <p> + Just before they crossed her wake David sang out to Jack: + </p> + <p> + “Our masts—are they sound?” + </p> + <p> + “Bran-new, sir; best Norway pine.” + </p> + <p> + “What d'ye think?” + </p> + <p> + “Think we are wasting time and daylight.” + </p> + <p> + “Then stand <i>by</i> the main sheet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Slack</i> the main sheet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The boat instantly fell off into the wind, and, as she went round, David + stood up in the stern-sheets and waved his cap to the men on board the + lugger, who were watching him. The old man was seen to shake his head in + answer to the signal, and point to his lug-sail standing flat as a board, + and the next moment they parted company, and the lateen was running + close-reefed before the wind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys was sitting collapsed in the lethargy that precedes + seasickness. He started up. “What are you doing?” he shrieked. + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet, sir, and don't bother,” said David, with calm sternness, and + in his deepest tones. + </p> + <p> + “Pray don't interfere with Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy; “he must know best.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't see what he is doing, then,” cried Talboys, wildly; “the madman + is taking us out to sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you taking us out to sea, Mr. Dodd?” inquired Lucy, with dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I am doing according to my judgment of tide and wind, and the abilities + of the craft I am sailing,” said David, firmly; “and on board my own craft + I am skipper, and skipper I will be. Go forward, sir, if you please, and + don't speak except to obey orders.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Talboys, sick, despondent and sulky, went gloomily forward, coiled + himself up under the forecastle deck, and was silent and motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Don't send me,” cried Lucy, “for I will not go. Nothing but your eye + keeps up my courage. I don't mind the water,” added she, hastily and a + little timidly, anxious to meet every reason that could be urged for + imprisoning her in the forecastle hold. + </p> + <p> + “You are all right where you are, miss,” said Jack, cheerfully; “we shan't + have no more spray come aboard us; it won't come in by the can full if it + doesn't come by the ton.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you belay your jaw?” roared David, in a fury that Lucy did not + comprehend at the time. “What a set of tarnation babblers in one little + boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't speak any more, Mr. Dodd; I won't speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless your heart, it isn't you I meant. 'Twould be hard if a lady might + not put her word in. But a man is different. I do love to see a man belay + his jaw, and wait for orders, and then do his duty; hoist the mainsel, + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake out a couple of reefs.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And the lateen spread both her great wings like an albatross, and leaped + and plunged, and flew before the mighty gale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + “THIS is nice. The boat does not upset or tumble as it did. It only + courtesies and plunges. I like it.” + </p> + <p> + “The sea has not got up yet, miss,” said Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't it? the waves seem very large.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you, wait till we have had four or five hours more of this.” + </p> + <p> + “Belay your jaw, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, Mr. Dodd?” objected Lucy gently. “I am not so weak as you think + me. Do not keep the truth from me. I share the danger; let me share the + sense of danger, too. You shall not blush for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Danger? There is not a grain of it, unless we make danger by inattention—and + babbling.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not do that,” said Lucy. + </p> + <p> + Equivoque missed fire. + </p> + <p> + “Not while you are on board,” replied David, simply. + </p> + <p> + Lucy felt inclined to give him her hand. She had it out half-way; but he + had lately asked her to marry him, so she drew it back, and her eyes + rested on the bottom of the boat. + </p> + <p> + The wind rose higher. The masts bent so that each sail had every possible + reef taken in. Her canvas thus reduced she scudded as fast as before, such + was now the fury of the gale. The sea rose so that the boat seemed to + mount with each wave as high as the second story of a house, and go down + again to the cellar at every plunge. Talboys, prostrated by seasickness in + the forehold, lay curled but motionless, like a crooked log, and almost as + indifferent to life or death. Lucy, pale but firm, put no more questions + that she felt would not be answered, but scanned David Dodd's face + furtively yet closely. The result was encouraging to her. His cheek was + not pale, as she felt her own. On the contrary, it was slightly flushed; + his eye bright and watchful, but lion-like. He gave a word or two of + command to Jack every now and then very sharply, but without the slightest + shade of agitation, and Jack's “ay, ay” came back as sharply, but + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + The principal feature she discerned in both sailors was a very attentive, + business-like manner. The romantic air with which heroes face danger in + story was entirely absent; and so, being convinced by his yarns that David + <i>was</i> a hero, she inferred that their situation could not be + dangerous, but, as David himself had inferred, merely one in which + watchfulness was requisite. + </p> + <p> + The sun went down red and angry. The night came on dark and howling. No + moon. A murky sky, like a black bellying curtain above, and huge ebony + waves, that in the appalling blackness seemed all crested with devouring + fire, hemmed in the tossing boat, and growled, and snarled, and raged + above, below, and around her. + </p> + <p> + Then, in that awful hour, Lucy Fountain felt her littleness and the + littleness of man. She cowered and trembled. + </p> + <p> + The sailors, rough but tender nurses, wrapped shawls round her one above + the other, “to make her snug for the night,” they said. They seemed to her + to be mocking her. “Snug? Who could hope to outlive such a fearful night? + and what did it matter whether she was drowned in one shawl or a dozen?” + </p> + <p> + David being amidships, bailing the boat out, and Jack at the helm, she + took the opportunity, and got very close to the latter, and said in his + ear— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jack, we are in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly in danger, miss; but, of course, we must mind our eye. But I + have often been where I have had to mind my eye, and hope to be again.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jack,” said Lucy, shivering, “what is our danger? Tell me the nature + of it, then I shall not be so cowardly; will the boat break?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless you, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it upset?” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not the sea swallow us?” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and there is + the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No; I'll tell you, + miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must not let her broach + to, and we must not get pooped.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>why</i> must we not?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Why?</i> Because we <i>mustn't.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “But I mean, what would be the consequence of—broaching to?” + </p> + <p> + Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. “Why, the sea would run over her + quarter, and swamp her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!! And if we get pooped?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Davy Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “The Old One, you know—down below. Leastways you won't go there, + miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have me; + so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy cried. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we, Mr. Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “British Channel.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that; but whereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am only + a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss,” said Jack, with a sly grin, + that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; “you should have seen him, + how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and the moment that + lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack, there will be + mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no confidence in that + tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort of lubber.) Lord bless + you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to you long before you made + the signal of distress with your little white flag.” Lucy's cheeks got + redder. “No, miss, if the skipper speaks severe to you, Jack Painter is + blind with one eye, and can't see with t'other.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's cheeks were carnation. + </p> + <p> + But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted this + chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence which + luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of the sea, + had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was coming. Her + sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again, the second wave + was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest caught her. The + first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm with a loud cry of + fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but sounded like a lion + rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her feet and ankles were in a + pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing and splashing through it, and + it turned into sparks of white fire flying this way and that. He seized + the helm, and discharged a loud volley of curses at Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Fling out ballast, ye d—d cowardly, useless lubber,” cried he; and + while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with almost + ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged another + rolling volley at him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray don't!” cried Lucy, trembling like an aspen leaf. “Oh, think! we + shall soon be in the presence of our Maker—of Him whose name you—” + </p> + <p> + “Not we,” cried David, with broad, cheerful incredulity; “we have lots + more mischief to do—that lubber and I. And if he thinks he is going + there, let him end like a man, not like a skulking lubber, running from + the helm, and letting the craft come up in the wind.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it was the sea he ran from. Who would not?” + </p> + <p> + “The lubber! If it had been a tiger or a bear I'd say nothing; but what is + the use of trying to run from the sea? Should have stuck to his post, and + set that thundering back of his up—it's broad enough—and kept + the sea out of your boots. The sea, indeed! I have seen the sea come on + board me, and clear the deck fore and aft, but it didn't come in the shape + of a cupful o' water and a spoonful o' foam.” Here David's wrath and + contempt were interrupted by Jack singing waggishly at his work, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Cease—rude Boreas—blustering—railer!!” + </pre> + <p> + At which sly hit David was pleased, and burst into a loud, boisterous + laugh. + </p> + <p> + Lucy put her hands to her ears. “Oh, don't! don't! this is worse than your + blasphemies—laughing on the brink of eternity; these are not men—they + are devils.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, Jack? Come, you behave!” roared David. + </p> + <p> + A faint snarl from Talboys. The water had penetrated him, and roused him + from a state of sick torpor; he lay in a tidy little pool some eight + inches deep. + </p> + <p> + The boat was bailed and lightened, but Lucy's fears were not set at rest. + What was to hinder the recurrence of the same danger, and with more fatal + effect? She timidly asked David's permission to let her keep the sea out. + Instead of snubbing her as she expected, David consented with a sort of + paternal benevolence tinged with incredulity. She then developed her plan; + it was, that David, Jack, and she should sit in a triangle, and hold the + tarpaulin out to windward and fence the ocean out. Jack, being summoned + aft to council, burst into a hoarse laugh; but David checked him. + </p> + <p> + “There is more in it than you see, Jack—more than she sees, perhaps. + My only doubt is whether it is possible; but you can try.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy and Jack then tried to get the tarpaulin out to windward; instead of + which, it carried them to leeward by the force of the wind. The mast + brought them up, or Heaven knows where their new invention would have + taken them. With infinite difficulty they got it down and kneeled upon it, + and even then it struggled. But Lucy would not be defeated; she made Jack + gather it up in the middle, and roll it first to the right, then to the + left, till it became a solid roll with two narrow open edges. They then + carried it abaft, and lowered it vertically over the stern-port; then + suddenly turned it round, and sat down. “Crack!” the wind opened it, and + wrapped it round the boat and the trio. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” cried David, “it is foul of the rudder;” and, he whipped out his + knife and made a slit in the stuff. It now clung like a blister. + </p> + <p> + “There, Mr. Dodd, will not that keep the sea out?” asked Lucy, + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, it may help to keep us ahead of the sea. Why, Jack, I seem + to feel it lift her; it is as good as a mizzen.” + </p> + <p> + “But, oh, Mr. Dodd, there is another danger. We may broach to.” + </p> + <p> + “How can she broach to when I am at the helm? Here is the arm that won't + let her broach to.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I feel safe.” + </p> + <p> + “You are as safe as on your own sofa; it is the discomfort you are put to + that worries me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think so meanly of me, Mr. Dodd. If it was not for my cowardice, I + should enjoy this voyage far more than the luxurious ease you think so + dear to me. I despise it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd, now I am no longer afraid. I am, oh, so sleepy.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder—go to sleep. It is the best thing you can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. I am aware my conversation is not very interesting.” + Having administered this sudden bloodless scratch, to show that, at sea or + ashore, in fair weather or foul, she retained her sex, Lucy disposed + herself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + David, steering the boat with his left hand, arranged the cushion with his + right. She settled herself to sleep, for an irresistible drowsiness had + followed the many hours of excitement she had gone through. Twice the + heavy plunging sea brought her into light contact with David. She + instantly awoke, and apologized to him with gentle dismay for taking so + audacious a liberty with that great man, commander of the vessel; the + third time she said nothing, a sure sign she was unconscious. + </p> + <p> + Then David, for fear she might hurt herself, curled his arm around her, + and let her head decline upon his shoulder. Her bonnet fell off; he put it + reverently on the other side the helm. The air now cleared, but the gale + increased rather than diminished. And now the moon rose large and bright. + The boat and masts stood out like white stone-work against the + flint-colored sky, and the silver light played on Lucy's face. There she + lay, all unconscious of her posture, on the man's shoulder who loved her, + and whom she had refused; her head thrown back in sweet helplessness, her + rich hair streaming over David's shoulder, her eyes closed, but the long, + lovely lashes meeting so that the double fringe was as speaking as most + eyes, and her lips half open in an innocent smile. The storm was no storm + to her now. She slept the sleep of childhood, of innocence and peace; and + David gazed and gazed on her, and joy and tenderness almost more than + human thrilled through him, and the storm was no storm to him either; he + forgot the past, despised the future, and in the delirium of his joy + blessed the sea and the wind, and wished for nothing but, instead of the + Channel, a boundless ocean, and to sail upon it thus, her bosom tenderly + grazing him, and her lovely head resting on his shoulder, for ever, and + ever, and ever. + </p> + <p> + Thus they sailed on two hours and more, and Jack now began to nod. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden Lucy awoke, and, opening her eyes, surprised David gazing + at her with tenderness unspeakable. Awaking possessed with the notion that + she was sleeping at home on a bed of down, she looked dumfounded an + instant; but David's eyes soon sent the blood into her cheek. Her whole + supple person turned eel-like, and she glided quickly, but not the least + bruskly, from him; the latter might have seemed discourteous. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Dodd,” she cried, “what am I doing?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been getting a nice sleep, thank Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and making use of you even in my sleep; but we all impose on your + goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you awake? You were happy; you felt no care, and I was happy + seeing you so.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's eyes filled. “Kind, true friend,” she murmured, “how can I ever + thank you as I ought? I little deserved that you should watch over my + safety as you have done, and, alas! risk your own. Any other but you would + have borne me malice, and let me perish, and said, 'It serves her right.'” + </p> + <p> + “Malice! Miss Lucy. What for, in Heaven's name?” + </p> + <p> + “For—for the affront I put upon you; for the—the honor I + declined.” + </p> + <p> + “Hate cannot lie alongside love in a true heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it cannot in a noble one. And then you are so generous. You have + never once recurred to that unfortunate topic; yet you have gained a right + to request me—to reconsider—Mr. Dodd, you have saved my + life!!” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you praise me because I don't take a mean advantage? That would + not be behaving like a man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that. You overrate your sex—and mine. We don't deserve + such generosity. The proof is, we reward those who are not so—delicate.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't trouble my head about your sex. They are nothing to me, and never + will be. If you think I have done my duty like a man, and as much like a + gentleman as my homely education permits, that is enough for me, and I + shall sail for China as happy as anything on earth can make me now.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy answered this by crying gently, silently, tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ye cry. Have I said something to vex you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you alarmed still?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I have such faith in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go to sleep again, like a lamb.” + </p> + <p> + “I will; then I shall not tease you with my conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Now there is a way to put it.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will, if you will take some repose. There, I will lash you to my + arm with this handkerchief; then you can lie the other way, and hold on by + the handkerchief—there.” + </p> + <p> + She closed her eyes and fell apparently to sleep, but really to thinking. + </p> + <p> + Then David nudged Jack, and waked him. “Speak low now, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Land ahead.” + </p> + <p> + Jack looked out, and there was a mountain of jet rising out of the sea, + and, to a landsman's eye, within a stone's throw of them. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the French coast, sir? I must have been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “French coast? no, Channel Island—smallest of the lot.” + </p> + <p> + “Better give it a wide berth, sir. We shall go smash like a teacup if we + run on to one of them rocky islands.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jack,” said David, reproachfully, “am I the man to run upon a + leeshore, and such a night as this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not likely. You will keep her head for Cherbourg or St. Malo, sir; it is + our only chance.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not our only chance, nor our best. We have been running a little + ahead of this gale, Jack; there is worse in store for us; the sea is + rolling mountains high on the French coast this morning, I know. We are + like enough to be pooped before we get there, or swamped on some + harbor-bar at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, we must take our chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Take our chance? What! with heads on our shoulders, and an angel on board + that Heaven has given us charge of? No, I sha'n't take my chance. I shall + try all I know, and hang on to life by my eyelids. Listen to me. + 'Knowledge is gold;' a little of it goes a long way. I don't know much + myself, but I do know the soundings of the British Channel. I have made + them my study. On the south side of this rocky point there is forty + fathoms water close to the shore, and good anchorage-ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish we could jump over the thundering island, and drop on the lee + side of it; but, as we can't, what's the use?” + </p> + <p> + “We may be able to round the point.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be an awful sea running off that point, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there will. I mean to try it, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it, sir; that is what I like to hear. I hate palaver. Let one give + his orders, and the rest obey them. We are not above half a mile from it + now.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better wake the landsman. We must have a third hand for this.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said a woman's voice, sweet, but clear and unwavering. “I shall be + the third hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse it,” cried David, “she has heard us.” + </p> + <p> + “Every word. And I have no confidence in Mr. Talboys; and, believe me, I + am more to be trusted than he is. See, my cowardice is all worn out. Do + but trust me, and you shall find I want neither courage nor intelligence.” + </p> + <p> + David eyed her keenly, and full in the face. She met his glance calmly, + with her fine nostrils slightly expanding, and her compressed lip curving + proudly. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Jack. It is not a flash in the pan. She is as steady as + a rock.” He then addressed her rapidly and business-like, but with + deference. “You will stand by the helm on this side, and the moment I run + forward, you will take the helm and hold it in this position. That will + require all your strength. Come, try it. Well done.” + </p> + <p> + “How the sea struggles with me! But I am strong, you see,” cried Lucy, her + brow flushed with the battle. + </p> + <p> + “Very good; you are strong, and, what is better, resolute. Now, observe + me: this is port, this is starboard, and this is amidships.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; but how am I to know which to do?”' + </p> + <p> + “I shall give you the word of command.” + </p> + <p> + “And all I have to do is to obey it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is all; but you will find it enough, because the sea will seem to + fight you. It will shake the boat to make you leave go, and will perhaps + dash in your face to make you leave go.” + </p> + <p> + “Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Dodd. I will not let go. I will hold on by my + eyelids sooner than add to your danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, she is on fire; she gives me double heart.” + </p> + <p> + “So she does me. She makes it a pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + They were now near enough the point to judge what they had to do, and the + appearance of the sea was truly terrible; the waves were all broken, and a + surge of devouring fire seemed to rage and roar round the point, and + oppose an impassable barrier between them and the inky pool beyond, where + safety lay under the lee of the high rocks. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it,” said David. “It looks to me like going through a strip + of hell fire.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is narrow,” said Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “That is our chance; and the tide is coming in. We will try it. She will + drench us, but I don't much think she will swamp us. Are you ready, all + hands?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! please wait a minute, till I do up my hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Take a minute, but no more.” + </p> + <p> + “There, it is done. Mr. Dodd, one word. If all should fail, and death be + inevitable, tell me so just before we perish, and I shall have something + to say to you. Now, I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Jump forward, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Stand by to jibe the foresail.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “See our sweeps all clear.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + David now handled the main sheet, and at the same time looked earnestly at + Lucy, who met his eye with a look of eager attention. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard a little. That will do. Steady—steady as you go,” As the + boat yielded to the helm, Jack gathered in on the sheet, took two turns + round the cleat, and eased away till the sail drew its best: so far so + good. Both sails were now on the same side of the boat, the wind on her + port quarter; but now came the dangerous operation of coming to the wind, + in a rough and broken sea, among the eddies of wind and tide so prevalent + off headlands. David, with the main sheet in his right hand, directed Lucy + with his left as well as his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard the helm—starboard yet—now meet her—so!” and, + as she rounded to Jack and he kept hauling the sheets aft, and the boat, + her course and trim altered, darted among the breakers like a brave man + attacking danger. After the first plunge she went up and down like a + pickax, coming down almost where she went up; but she held her course, + with the waves roaring round her like a pack of hell-hounds. + </p> + <p> + More than half the terrible strip was passed. “Starboard yet,” cried + David; and she headed toward the high mainland under whose lee was calm + and safety. Alas! at this moment a snorter of a sea broke under her + broadside, and hove her to leeward like a cork, and a tide eddy catching + her under the counter, she came to more than two points, and her canvas, + thus emptied, shook enough to tear the masts out of her by the board. + </p> + <p> + “Port your helm! PORT! PORT!” roared David, in a voice like the roar of a + wounded lion; and, in his anxiety, he bounded to the helm himself; but + Lucy obeyed orders at half a word, and David, seeing this, sprang forward + to help Jack flatten in the foresheet. The boat, which all through + answered the helm beautifully, fell off the moment Lucy ported the helm, + and thus they escaped the impending and terrible danger of her making + sternway. “Helm amidships!” and all drew again: the black water was in + sight. But will they ever reach it? She tosses like a cork. Bang! A + breaker caught her bows, and drenched David and Jack to the very bone. She + quivered like an aspen-leaf but held on. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard one point,” cried David, sitting down, and lifting an oar out + from the boat; but just as Lucy, in obeying the order, leaned a little + over the lee gunwale with the tiller, a breaker broke like a shell upon + the boat's broadside abaft, stove in her upper plank, and filled her with + water; some flew and slapped Lucy in the face like an open hand. She + screamed, but clung to the gunwale, and griped the helm: her arm seemed + iron, and her heart was steel. While she clung thus to her work, blinded + by the spray, and expecting death, she heard oars splash into the water, + and mellow stentorian voices burst out singing. + </p> + <p> + In amazement she turned, squeezed the brine out of her eyes, and looked + all round, and lo! the boat was in a trifling bobble of a sea, and close + astern was the surge of fire raging, and growling, and blazing in vain, + and the two sailors were pulling the boat, with superhuman strength and + inspiration, into a monster mill-pool that now lay right ahead, black as + ink and smooth as oil, singing loudly as they rowed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Cheerily oh oh! (pull) cheerily oh oh! (pull) + To port we go oh (pull), to port we go (pull).” + </pre> + <p> + FLARE!! a great flaming eye opened on them in the center of the universal + blackness. + </p> + <p> + “Look! look!” cried Lucy; “a fire in the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + It was the lantern of a French sloop anchored close to the shore. The crew + had heard the sailors' voices. At sight of it David and Jack cheered so + lustily that Talboys crawled out of the water and glared vaguely. The + sailors pulled under the sloop's lee quarter: a couple of ropes were + instantly lowered, the lantern held aloft, ruby heads and hands clustered + at the gangway, and in another minute the boat's party were all upon deck, + under a hailstorm of French, and the boat fast to her stern. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + THE skipper of the ship, hearing a commotion on deck, came up, and, taking + off his cap, made Lucy a bow in a style remote from an English sailor's. + She courtesied to him, and, to his surprise, addressed him in Parisian + French. When he learned she was from England, and had rounded that point + in an open boat, he was astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Diables d'Anglais!” said he. + </p> + <p> + The good-natured Frenchman insisted on Lucy taking sole possession of his + cabin, in which was a cheerful stove. His crew were just as kind to David, + Jack, and Talboys. This latter now resumed his right place—at the + head of mankind; being the only one who could talk French, he interpreted + for his companions. He improved upon my narrative in one particular: he + led the Frenchmen to suppose it was he who had sailed the boat from + England, and weathered the point. Who can blame him? + </p> + <p> + Dry clothes were found them, and grog and beef. + </p> + <p> + While employed on the victuals, a little Anglo-Frank, aged ten, suddenly + rolled out of a hammock and offered aid in the sweet accents of their + native tongue. The sound of the knives and forks had woke the urchin out + of a deep sleep. David filled the hybrid, and then sent him to Lucy's + cabin to learn how she was getting on. He returned, and told them the lady + was sitting on deck. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” said David, “she ought to be in her bed.” He rose and went on + deck, followed by Mr. Talboys. “Had you not better rest yourself?” said + David. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Mr. Dodd; I had a delicious sleep in the boat.” + </p> + <p> + Here Talboys put in his word, and made her a rueful apology for the turn + his pleasure-excursion had taken. + </p> + <p> + She stopped him most graciously. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I have to thank you, indirectly, for one of the + pleasantest evenings I ever spent. I never was in danger before, and it is + delightful. I was a little frightened at first, but it soon wore off, and + I feel I should shortly revel in it; only I must have a brave man near + just to look at, then I gather courage from his eye; do I not now, Mr. + Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you do,” said David, simply enough. + </p> + <p> + Lucy Fountain's appearance and manner bore out her words. Talboys was + white; even David and Jack showed some signs of a night of watching and + anxiety; but the young lady's cheek was red and fresh, her eye bright, and + she shone with an inspired and sprightly ardor that was never seen, or + never observed in her before. They had found the way to put her blood up, + after all—the blood of the Funteyns. Such are thoroughbreds: they + rise with the occasion; snobs descend as the situation rises. See that + straight-necked, small-nosed mare stepping delicately on the turnpike: + why, it is Languor in person, picking its way among eggs. Now the hounds + cry and the horn rings. Put her at timber, stream, and plowed field in + pleasing rotation, and see her now: up ears; open nostril; nerves steel; + heart immovable; eye of fire; foot of wind. And ho! there! What stuck in + that last arable, dead stiff as the Rosinantes in Trafalgar Square, all + but one limb, which goes like a water-wagtail's? Why, by Jove! if it isn't + the hero of the turnpike road: the gallant, impatient, foaming, champing, + space-devouring, curveting cocktail. + </p> + <p> + Out of consideration for her male companions' infirmities, and observing + that they were ashamed to take needful rest while she remained on deck, + Lucy at length retired to her cabin. + </p> + <p> + She slept a good many hours, and was awakened at last by the rocking of + the sloop. The wind had fallen gently, but it had also changed to due + east, which brought a heavy ground-swell round the point into their little + haven. Lucy made her toilet, and came on deck blooming like a rose. The + first person she encountered was Mr. Talboys. She saluted him cordially, + and then inquired for their companions. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they are gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Sailed half an hour ago. Look, there is the boat coasting the island. No, + not that way—westward; out there, just weathering that point Don't + you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Are they making a tour of the island, then?” + </p> + <p> + Here the little Anglo-Frank put in his word. “No, ma'ainselle, gone to + catch sheep bound for ze East Indeeze.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! gone! for good?” and Lucy turned very pale. The next moment + offended pride sent the blood rushing to her brow. “That is just like Mr. + Dodd; there is not another gentleman in the world would have had the + ill-breeding to go off like that to India without even bidding us + good-morning or good-by. Did he bid <i>you</i> good-by, Mr. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “There, now, it is insolent—it is barbarous.” Her vexation at the + affront David had put on Mr. Talboys soon passed into indignation. “This + was done to insult—to humiliate us. A noble revenge. You know we + used sometimes to quiz him a little ashore, especially you; so now, out of + spite, he has saved our lives, and then turned his back arrogantly upon us + before we could express our gratitude; that is as much as to say he values + us as so many dogs or cats, flings us our lives haughtily, and then turned + his back disdainfully on us. Life is not worth having when given so + insultingly.” + </p> + <p> + Talboys soothed the offended fair. “I really don't think he meant to + insult us; but you know Dodd; he is a good-natured fellow, but he never + had the slightest pretension to good-breeding.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think,” replied the lady, “it would be as well to leave off + detracting from Mr. Dodd now that he has just saved your life?” + </p> + <p> + Talboys opened his eyes. “Why, you began it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Talboys, do not descend to evasion. What I say goes for nothing. + Mr. Dodd and I are fast friends, and nobody will ever succeed in robbing + me of my esteem for him. But you always hated him, and you seize every + opportunity of showing your dislike. Poor Mr. Dodd! He has too many great + virtues not to be envied—and hated.” + </p> + <p> + Talboys stood puzzled, and was at a loss which way to steer his tongue, + the wind being so shifty. At last he observed a little haughtily that “he + never made Mr. Dodd of so much importance as all this. He owned he <i>had</i> + quizzed him, but it was not his intention to quiz him any more; for I do + feel under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd; he has brought us safe + across the Channel; at the same time, I own I should have been more + grateful if he had beat against the wind and landed us on our native + coast; the lugger is there long before this, and our boat was the best of + the two.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd!” replied Lucy, with cold hauteur. “The lugger had a sharp stern, + but ours was a square stern, so we were obliged to <i>run;</i> if we had + <i>beat,</i> we should all have been drowned directly.” + </p> + <p> + Talboys was staggered by this sudden influx of science; but he held his + ground. “There is something in that,” said he; “but still, a—a——” + </p> + <p> + “There, Mr. Talboys,” said the young lady suddenly, assuming extreme + languor after delivering a facer, “pray do not engage me in an argument. I + do not feel equal to one, especially on a subject that has lost its + interest. Can you inform me when this vessel sails?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then will you be so kind as to borrow me that little boat? it is dangling + from the ship, so it must belong to it. I wish to land, and see whether he + has cast us upon an in- or an uninhabited island.” + </p> + <p> + The sloop's boat speedily landed them on the island, and Lucy proposed to + cross the narrow neck of land and view the sea they had crossed in the + dark. This was soon done, and she took that opportunity of looking about + for the lateen, for her mind had taken another turn, and she doubted the + report that David had gone to intercept the East-Indiaman. A short glance + convinced her it was true. About seven miles to leeward, her course + west-northwest, her hull every now and then hidden by the waves, her white + sails spread like a bird's, the lateen was flying through the foam at its + fastest rate. Lucy gazed at her so long and steadfastly that Talboys took + the huff, and strolled along the cliff. + </p> + <p> + When Lucy turned to go back, she found the French skipper coming toward + her with a scrap of paper in his hand. He presented it with a low bow; she + took it with a courtesy. It was neatly folded, though not as letters are + folded ashore, and it bore her address. She opened it and read: + </p> + <p> + “It was not worth while disturbing your rest just to see us go off. God + bless you, Miss Lucy! The Frenchman is bound for ——, and will + take you safe; and mind you don't step ashore till the plank is fast. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, respectfully, + </p> + <h3> + “DAVID DODD.” + </h3> + <p> + That was all. She folded it back thoughtfully into the original folds, and + turned away. When she had gone but a few steps she stopped and put her + rejected lover's little note into her bosom, and went slowly back to the + boat, hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + MR. FOUNTAIN remained in the town waiting for his niece's return. Six + o'clock came—no boat. Eight o'clock—no boat, and a heavy gale + blowing. He went down to the beach in great anxiety; and when he got there + he soon found it was shared to the full by many human beings. There were + little knots of fishermen and sailors discussing it, and one poor woman, + mother and wife, stealing from group to group and listening anxiously to + the men's conjectures. But the most striking feature of the scene was an + old white-haired man, who walked wildly, throwing his arms about. The + others rather avoided him, but Mr. Fountain felt he had a right to speak + to him; so he came to him, and told him “his niece was on board; and you, + too, I fear, have some one dear to you in danger.” + </p> + <p> + The old man replied sorrowfully that “his lovely new boat was in danger—in + such danger that he should never see her again;” then added, going + suddenly into a fury, that “as to the two rascally bluejackets that were + on board of her, and had borrowed her of his wife while he was out, all he + wished was that they had been swamped to all eternity long ago, then they + would not have been able to come and swamp his dear boat.” + </p> + <p> + Peppery old Fountain cursed him for a heartless old vagabond, and joined + the group whose grief and anxiety were less ostentatious, being for the + other boat that carried their own flesh and blood. But all night long that + white-haired old man paced the shore, flinging his arms, weeping and + cursing alternately for his dear schooner. + </p> + <p> + Oh holy love—of property! how venerable you looked in the moonlight, + with your white hairs streaming! How well you imitated, how close you + rivaled, the holiest effusions of the heart, and not for the first time + nor the last. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter! my ducats! my ducats! my daughter!” etc. + </p> + <p> + The morning broke; no sign of either boat. The wind had shifted to the + east, and greatly abated. The fishermen began to have hopes for their + comrades; these communicated themselves to Mr. Fountain. + </p> + <p> + It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when this latter observed people + streaming along the shore to a distant point. He asked a coastguard man, + whom he observed scanning the place with a glass, “What it was?” + </p> + <p> + The man lowered his voice and said, “Well, sir, it will be something + coming ashore, by the way the folk are running.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain got a carriage, and, urging the driver to use speed, was + hastily conveyed by the road to a part whence a few steps brought him down + to the sea. He thrust wildly in among the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Make way,” said the rough fellows: they saw he was one of those who had + the best right to be there. + </p> + <p> + He looked, and there, scarce fifty yards from the shore, was the lugger, + keel uppermost, drifting in with the tide. The old man staggered, and was + supported by a beach man. + </p> + <p> + When the wreck came within fifteen yards of the shore, she hung, owing to + the under suction, and could get neither way. The cries of the women broke + out afresh at this. Then half a dozen stout fellows swam in with ropes, + and with some difficulty righted her, and in another minute she was hauled + ashore. + </p> + <p> + The crowd rushed upon her. She was empty! Not an oar, not a boat-hook—nothing. + But jammed in between the tiller and the boat they found a purple veil. + The discovery was announced loudly by one of the females, but the + consequent outcry was instantly hushed by the men, and the oldest + fisherman there took it, and, in a sudden dead and solemn silence, gave it + with a world of subdued meaning to Mr. Fountain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <p> + MR. FOUNTAIN'S grief was violent; the more so, perhaps, that it was not + pure sorrow, but heated with anger and despair. He had not only lost the + creature he loved better than anyone else except himself, but all his + plans and all his ambition were upset forever. I am sorry to say there + were moments when he felt indignant with Heaven, and accused its justice. + At other times the virtues of her he had lost came to his recollection, + and he wept genuine tears. Now she was dead he asked himself a question + that is sometimes reserved for that occasion, and then asked with bitter + regret and idle remorse at its postponement, “What can I do to show my + love and respect for her?” The poor old fellow could think of nothing now + but to try and recover her body from the sea, and to record her virtues on + her tomb. He employed six men to watch the coast for her along a space of + twelve miles, and he went to a marble-cutter and ordered a block of + beautiful white marble. He drew up the record of her virtues himself, and + spelled her “Fontaine,” and so settled that question by brute force. + </p> + <p> + Oh, you may giggle, but men are not most sincere when they are most + reasonable, nor most reasonable when most sincere. When a man's heart is + in a thing, it is in it—wise or nonsensical, it is all one; so it is + no use talking. + </p> + <p> + I lack words to describe the gloom that fell on Mr. Bazalgette's home when + the sad tidings reached it. And, indeed, it would be trifling with my + reader to hang many more pages with black when he and I both know Lucy + Fontaine is alive all the time. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the French sloop lay at her anchor, and Lucy fretted with + impatience. At noon the next day she sailed, and, being a slow vessel, did + not anchor off the port of —— till daybreak the day after. + Then she had to wait for the tide, and it was nearly eleven o'clock when + Lucy landed. She went immediately to the principal inn to get a + conveyance. On the road, whom should she meet but Mr. Hardie. He gave a + joyful start at sight of her, and with more heart than she could have + expected welcomed her to life again. From him she learned all the proofs + of her death. This made her more anxious to fly to her aunt's house at + once and undeceive her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardie would not let her hire a carriage; he would drive her over in + half the time. He beckoned his servant, who was standing at the inn door, + and ordered it immediately. “Meantime, Miss Fountain, if you will take my + arm, I will show you something that I think will amuse you, though <i>we</i> + have found it anything but amusing, as you may well suppose.” Lucy took + his arm somewhat timidly, and he walked her to the marble-cutter's shop. + “Look there,” said he. Lucy looked and there was an unfinished slab on + which she read these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sacred to the Memory + OF + LUCY FONTAINE, + WHO WAS DROWNED AT SEA ON THE + 10TH SEPT., 18—. + + As her beauty endeared her to all eyes, + So her modesty, piety, docilit +</pre> + <p> + At this point in her moral virtues the chisel had stopped. Eleven o'clock + struck, and the chisel went for its beer; for your English workman would + leave the d in “God” half finished when strikes the hour of beer. + </p> + <p> + The fact is that the shopkeeper had newly set up, was proud of the + commission, and, whenever the chisel left off, he whipped into the + workshop and brought the slab out, <i>pro tem.,</i> into his window for an + advertisement. + </p> + <p> + Hardie pointed it out to Lucy with a chuckle. Lucy turned pale, and put + her hand to her heart. Hardie saw his mistake too late, and muttered + excuses. + </p> + <p> + Lucy gave a little gasp and stopped him. “Pray say no more; it is my + fault; if people will feign death, they must expect these little tributes. + My uncle has lost no time.” And two unreasonable tears swelled to her eyes + and trickled one after another down her cheeks; then she turned her back + quickly on the thing, and Mr. Hardie felt her arm tremble. “I think, Mr. + Hardie,” said she presently, with marked courtesy, “I should, under the + circumstances, prefer to go home alone. My aunt's nerves are sensitive, + and I must think of the best way of breaking to her the news that I am + alive.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be best, Miss Fountain; and, to tell the truth, I feel myself + unworthy to accompany you after being so maladroit as to give you pain in + thinking to amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Hardie,” said Lucy, growing more and more courteous, “you are not + to be called to account for my weakness; that <i>would</i> be unjust. I + shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, since you permit me.” + </p> + <p> + He put Lucy into the carriage and off she drove. “Come,” thought Mr. + Hardie, “I have had an escape; what a stupid blunder for me to make! She + is not angry, though, so it does not matter. She asked me to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Said Lucy to herself: “The man is a fool! Poor Mr. Dodd! <i>he</i> would + not have shown me my tombstone—to amuse me.” And she dismissed the + subject from her mind. + </p> + <p> + She sent away the carriage and entered Mr. Bazalgette's house on foot. + After some consideration she determined to employ Jane, a girl of some + tact, to break her existence to her aunt. She glided into the drawing-room + unobserved, fully expecting to find Jane at work there for Mrs. + Bazalgette. But the room was empty. While she hesitated what to do next, + the handle of the door was turned, and she had only just time to dart + behind a heavy window-curtain, when it opened, and Mrs. Bazalgette walked + slowly and silently in, followed by a woman. Mrs. Bazalgette seated + herself and sighed deeply. Her companion kept a respectful silence. After + a considerable pause, Mrs. Bazalgette said a few words in a voice so + thoroughly subdued and solemn, and every now and then so stifled, that + Lucy's heart yearned for her, and nothing but the fear of frightening her + aunt into a hysterical fit kept her from flying into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I need not tell you,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “why I sent for you. You know + the sad bereavement that has fallen on me, but you cannot know all I have + lost in her. Nobody can tell what she was to all of us, but most of all to + me. I was her darling, and she was mine.” Here tears choked Mrs. + Bazalgette's words, for a while. Recovering herself, she paid a tribute to + the character of the deceased. “It was a soul without one grain of + selfishness; all her thoughts were for others, not one for herself. She + loved us all—indeed, she loved some that were hardly worthy of so + pure a creature's love; but the reason was, she had no eye for the faults + of her friends; she pictured them like herself, and loved her own sweet + image in them. <i>And</i> such a temper! and so free from guile. I may + truly say her mind was as lovely as her person.” + </p> + <p> + “She was, indeed, a sweet young lady,” sighed the woman. + </p> + <p> + “She was an angel, Baldwin—an angel sent to bear us company a little + while, and now she is a saint in Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ma'am, the best goes first, that is an old saying.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have heard; but my niece was as healthy as she was lovely and good. + Everything promised long life. I hoped she would have closed my eyes. In + the bloom of health one day, and the next lying cold, stark, and + drenched!! Oh, how terrible! Oh, my poor Lucy! oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of life we are in death, ma'am. I am sure it is a warning to + me, ma'am, as well as to my betters.” + </p> + <p> + “It, is, indeed, Baldwin, a warning to all of us who have lived too much + for vanities, to think of this sweet flower, snatched in a moment from our + bosoms and from the world; we ought to think of it on our knees, and + remember our own latter end. That last skirt you sent me was rather + scrimped, my poor Baldwin.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it does not matter; I shall never wear it now; and, under such a blow + as this, I am in no humor to find fault. Indeed, with my grief I neglect + my household and my very children. I forget everything; what did I send + for you for?” and she looked with lack-luster eyes full in Mrs. Baldwin's + face. + </p> + <p> + “Jane did not say, ma'am, but I am at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course; I am distracted. It was to pay the last tribute of respect + to her dear memory. Ah! Baldwin, often and often the black dress is all; + but here the heart mourns beyond the power of grief to express by any + outward trappings. No matter; the world, the shallow world, respects these + signs of woe, and let mine be the deepest mourning ever worn, and the + richest. And out of that mourning I shall never go while I live.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am,” said Baldwin soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you doubt me?” asked the lady, with a touch of sharpness that did not + seemed called for by Baldwin's humble acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, ma'am; it is a very natural thought under the present affliction, + and most becoming the sad occasion. Well, ma'am, the deepest mourning, if + you please, I should say cashmere and crape.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that would be deep. Oh, Baldwin, it is her violent death that kills + me. Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Cashmere and crape, ma'am, and with nothing white about the neck and + arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; oh yes; but will not that be rather unbecoming?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am—” and Baldwin hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly see how I <i>could</i> wear that, it makes one look so old. Now + don't you think black <i>glace</i> silk, and trimmed with love-ribbon, + black of course, but scalloped—” + </p> + <p> + “That would be very rich, indeed, ma'am, and very becoming to you; but, + being so near and dear, it would not be so deep as you are desirous of.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Baldwin, you don't attend to what I say; I told you I was never + going out of mourning again, so what is the use of your proposing anything + to me that I can't wear all my life? Now tell me, can I always wear + cashmere and crape?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, ma'am, that is out of the question; and if it is for a permanency, + I don't see how we could improve on <i>glace</i> silk, with crape, and + love-ribbons. Would you like the body trimmed with jet, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't ask me; I don't know. If my darling had only died comfortably + in her bed, then we could have laid out her sweet remains, and dressed + them for her virgin tomb.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been a satisfaction, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “A sad one, at the best; but now the very earth, perhaps, will never + receive her. Oh yes, anything you like—the body trimmed with jet, if + you wish it, and let me see, a gauze bodice, goffered, fastened to the + throat. That is all, I think; the sleeves confined at the wrist just + enough not to expose the arm, and yet look light—you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “She kissed me just before she went on that fatal excursion, Baldwin; she + will never kiss me again—oh! oh! You must call on Dejazet for me, + and bespeak me a bonnet to match; it is not to be supposed I can run about + after her trumpery at such a time; besides, it is not usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, ma'am, you are in no state for it; I will undertake any purchases + you may require.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my good Baldwin; you are a good, kind, feeling, useful soul. + Oh, Baldwin, if it had pleased Heaven to take her by disease, it would + have been bad enough to lose her; but to be drowned! her clothes all + wetted through and through; her poor hair drenched, too; and then the + water is so cold at this time of year—oh! oh! Send me a cross of + jet, and jet beads, with the dress, and a jet brooch, and a set of jet + buttons, in case—besides—oh! oh! oh!—I expect every + moment to see her carried home, all pale and wetted by the nasty sea—oh! + oh!—and an evening dress of the same—the newest fashion. I + leave it to you; don't ask me any questions about it, for I can't and + won't go into that. I can try it on when it is made—oh! oh! oh!—it + does not do to love any creature as I loved my poor lost Lucy—and a + black fan—-oh! oh!—and a dozen pair of black kid gloves—oh!—and + a mourning-ring—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, aunt, or your love for me will be your ruin!” said Lucy, coldly, + and stood suddenly before the pair, looking rather cynical. + </p> + <p> + “What, Lucy! alive! No, her ghost—ah! ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, aunt; I am alive and well. Now, don't be childish, dear; I have + been in danger, but here I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette and Mrs. Baldwin flew together, and trembled in one + another's arms. Lucy tried to soothe them, but at last could not help + laughing at them. This brought Baldwin to her senses quicker than + anything; but Mrs. Bazalgette, who, like many false women, was hysterical, + went off into spasms—genuine ones. They gave her salts—in + vain. Slapped her hands—in vain. + </p> + <p> + Then Lucy cried to Baldwin, “Quick! the tumbler; I must sprinkle her face + and bosom.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't spoil my lilac gown!” gasped the sufferer, and with a mighty + effort she came to. She would have come back from the edge of the grave to + shield silk from water. Finally she wreathed her arms round Lucy, and + kissed her so tenderly, warmly and sobbingly, that Lucy got over the shock + of her shallowness, and they kissed and cried together most joyously, + while Baldwin, after a heroic attempt at jubilation, retired from the room + with a face as long as your arm. <i>A bas les revenants!!</i> She went to + the housekeeper's room. The housekeeper persuaded her to stay and take a + bit of dinner, and soon after dinner she was sent for to Mrs. Bazalgette's + room. + </p> + <p> + Lucy met her coming out of it. “I fear I came <i>mal apropos,</i> Mrs. + Baldwin; if I had thought of it, I would have waited till you had secured + that munificent order.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you, miss, I am sure; but you were always a + considerate young lady. You'll be glad to learn, miss, it makes no + difference; I have got the order; it is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “That is fortunate,” replied Lucy, kindly, “otherwise I should have been + tempted to commit an extravagance with you myself. Well, and what is my + aunt's new dress to be now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the same, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “The same? why, she is not going into mourning on my return? ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “La bless you, miss, mourning? you can't call that mourning—<i>glace</i> + silk and love-ribbons scalloped out, and cetera. Of course it was not my + business to tell her so; but I could not help thinking to myself, if that + is the way my folk are going to mourn for me, they may just let it alone. + However, that is all over now; and your aunt sent for me, and says she, + 'Black becomes <i>me;</i> you will make the dresses all the same.'” And + Baldwin retired radiant. + </p> + <p> + Lucy put her hand to her bosom. “Make the dresses all the same—all + the same, whether I am alive or dead. No, I will not cry; no, I will not. + Who is worth a tear? what is worth a tear? All the same. It is not to be + forgotten—nor forgiven. Poor Mr. Dodd!!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain learned the good news in the town, so his meeting with Lucy + was one of pure joy. Mr. Talboys did not hear anything. He had business up + in London, and did not stay ten minutes in ——. + </p> + <p> + The house revived, and <i>jubilabat, jubilabat.</i> But after the first + burst of triumph things went flat. David Dodd was gone, and was missed; + and Lucy was changed. She looked a shade older, and more than one shade + graver; and, instead of living solely for those who happened to be basking + in her rays, she was now and then comparatively inattentive, thoughtful, + and <i>distraite.</i> + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain watched her keenly; ditto Mrs. Bazalgette. A slight reaction + had taken place in both their bosoms. “Hang the girl! there were we + breaking our hearts for her, and she was alive.” She had “<i>beguiled</i> + them of their tears.”—Othello. But they still loved her quite well + enough to take charge of her fate. + </p> + <p> + A sort of itch for settling other people's destinies, and so gaining a + title to their curses for our pragmatical and fatal interference, is the + commonest of all the forms of sanctioned lunacy. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, these two had imbibed the spirit of rivalry, and each was + stimulated by the suspicion that the other was secretly at work. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's voluntary promise in the ballroom was a double sheet-anchor to Mr. + Fountain. It secured him against the only rival he dreaded. Talboys, too, + was out of the way just now, and the absence of the suitor is favorable to + his success, where the lady has no personal liking for him. To work went + our Machiavel again, heart and soul, and whom do you think he had the + cheek, or, as the French say, the forehead, to try and win over?—Mrs. + Bazalgette. + </p> + <p> + This bold step, however, was not so strange as it would have been a month + ago. The fact is, I have brought you unfairly close to this pair. When you + meet them in the world you will be charmed with both of them, and + recognize neither. There are those whose faults are all on the surface: + these are generally disliked; there are those whose faults are all at the + core: they charm creation. Mrs. Bazalgette is allowed by both sexes to be + the most delightful, amiable woman in the county, and will carry that + reputation to her grave. Fountain is “the jolliest old buck ever went on + two legs.” I myself would rather meet twelve such agreeable humbugs—six + of a sex—<i>at dinner</i> than the twelve apostles, and so would + you, though you don't know it. These two, then, had long ere this found + each other mighty agreeable. The woman saw the man's vanity, and flattered + it. The man the woman's, and flattered it. Neither saw—am I to say?—his + own or her own, or what? Hang language!!! In short, they had long ago + oiled one another's asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and + frequent: they were always chatting together—strewing flowers of + speech over their mines and countermines. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his sex, had the less patience, + broke ground. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a + thousand pounds. Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing off + prejudices. I little thought, when I first came here, the principal + attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain. I can't say I ever had + any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good qualities. + However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font Abbey prepared me + for your real character; and now this visit, I trust, makes us friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my + benefactor as well as friend—if I could only persuade you to + withdraw your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow's dream.” + </p> + <p> + “What poor old fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Me.” + </p> + <p> + “You? why, you are not so very old. You are not above fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me. Come, can nothing soften you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean, Mr. Fountain”; and the mellifluous tones + dried suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You are too sagacious not to know everything; you know my heart is set on + marrying my niece to a man of ancient family.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart. You have only to use your influence with her. If she + consents, I will not oppose.” + </p> + <p> + “You cruel little lady, you know it is not enough to withdraw opposition; + I can't succeed without your kind aid and support.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Fountain, I am a great coward, but, really, I could almost + venture to scold you a little. Is not a poor little woman to be allowed to + set her heart on things as well as a poor old gentleman who does not look + fifty? You know my poor little heart is bent on her marrying into our own + set, yet you can ask me to influence her the other way—me, who have + never once said a word to her for my own favorites! No; the fairest, + kindest, and best way is to leave her to select her own happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine thing it would be if young people were left to marry who they + like,” retorted Fountain. “My dear lady, I would never have asked your aid + so long as there was the least chance of her marrying Mr. Hardie; but, now + that she has of her own accord declined him—” + </p> + <p> + “What is that? declined Mr. Hardie? when did he ever propose for her?” + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me. She came to me and told me she would never marry + him.” + </p> + <p> + “When was that? I don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was in the ball-room.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette reflected; then she turned very red. “Well, sir,” said + she, “don't build too much on that; for four months ago she made me a + solemn promise she would never marry any lover you should find her, and + she repeated that promise in your very house.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “That is polite, sir. Come, Mr. Fountain, you are agitated and cross, and + it is no use being cross either with me or with Lucy. You asked my + co-operation. You gentlemen can ask anything; and you are wise to do these + droll things; that is where you gain the advantage over us poor cowards of + women. Well, I will co-operate with you. Now listen. Lucy's <i>penchant</i> + is neither for Mr. Hardie, nor Mr. Talboys, but for Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she does not care <i>much</i> for him; she has refused him to my + knowledge, and would again; besides, he is gone to India, so there is an + end of <i>him.</i> She seems a little languid and out of spirits; it may + be because he <i>is</i> gone. Now, then, is the very time to press a + marriage upon her.” + </p> + <p> + “The very worst time, surely, if she is really such an idiot as to be + fretting for a fellow who is away.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette informed her new ally condescendingly that he knew nothing + of the sex he had undertaken to tackle. + </p> + <p> + “When a cold-blooded girl like this, who has no strong attachment, is out + of spirits, and all that sort of thing, then is the time she falls to any + resolute wooer. She will yield if we both insist, and we <i>will</i> + insist. Only keep your temper, and let nothing tempt you to say an unkind + word to her.” + </p> + <p> + She then rang the bell, and desired that Miss Fountain might be requested + to come into the drawing-room for a minute. + </p> + <p> + “But what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Give her the choice of two husbands—Mr. Talboys or Mr. Hardie.” + </p> + <p> + “She will take neither, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she will.” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the one she dislikes the least.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, you are right—you are an angel.” And the old gentleman in + his gratitude to her who was outwitting him, and vice versa, kissed Mrs. + Bazalgette's hand with great devotion, in which act he was surprised by + Lucy, who floated through the folding-doors. She said nothing, but her + face volumes. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, love.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down, and her eye mildly bored both relatives, like, if you can + imagine a gentle gimlet, worked by insinuation, not force. + </p> + <p> + Then the favored Fountain enjoyed the inestimable privilege of beholding a + small bout of female fence. + </p> + <p> + The accomplished actress of forty began. + </p> + <p> + The novice held herself apparently all open with a sweet smile, the eye + being the only weapon that showed point. + </p> + <p> + “My love, your uncle and I, who were not always just to one another, have + been united by our love for you.” + </p> + <p> + “So I observed as I came in—ahem!” + </p> + <p> + “Henceforth we are one where your welfare is concerned, and we have + something serious to say to you now. There is a report, dearest, creeping + about that you have formed an unfortunate attachment—to a person + beneath you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that, aunt? Name, as they say in the House.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; these things are commonly said without foundation in this + wicked world; but, still, it is always worth our while to prove them + false, not, of course, directly—<i>'qui s'excuse s'accuse''</i>—but + indirectly.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, and I shall do so in my uncle's presence. You were + present, aunt—though uninvited—when the gentleman you allude + to offered me what I consider a great honor, and you heard me decline it; + you are therefore fully able to contradict that report, whose source, by + the by, you have not given me, and of course you will contradict it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette colored a little. But she said affectionately: “These + silly rumors are best contradicted by a good marriage, love, and that + brings me to something more important. We have two proposals for you, and + both of them excellent ones. Now, in a matter where your happiness is at + stake, your uncle and I are determined not to let our private partialities + speak. We do press you to select one of these offers, but leave you quite + free as to which you take. Mr. Talboys is a gentleman of old family and + large estates. Mr. Hardie is a wealthy, and able, and rising man. They are + both attached to you; both excellent matches. + </p> + <p> + “Whichever you choose your uncle and I shall both feel that an excellent + position for life is yours, and no regret that you did not choose our + especial favorite shall stain our joy or our love.” With this generous + sentiment tears welled from her eyes, whereat Fountain worshiped her and + felt his littleness. + </p> + <p> + But Lucy was of her own sex, and had observed what an unlimited command of + eye-water an hysterical female possesses. She merely bowed her head + graciously, and smiled politely. Thus encouraged to proceed, her aunt + dried her eyes with a smile, and with genial cheerfulness proceeded: + “Well, then, dear, which shall it be—Mr. Talboys?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy opened her eyes <i>so</i> innocently. “My dear aunt, I wonder at that + question from you. Did you not make me promise you I would never marry + that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle's?” + </p> + <p> + “And did you?” cried Fountain. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” replied the penitent, hanging her head. “My aunt was so kind to + me about something or other, I forget what.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain bounced up and paced the room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice: “It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hardie!!!” cried Lucy, rather loudly, to attract her uncle's + attention. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, the same objection applies there; I made my uncle a solemn + promise not to marry any friend of yours, aunt. Poor uncle! I refused at + first, but he looked so unhappy my resolution failed, and I gave my + promise. I will keep it, uncle. Don't fear me.” + </p> + <p> + It caused Mrs. Bazalgette a fierce struggle to command her temper. Both + she and Fountain were dumb for a minute; then elastic Mrs. Bazalgette + said: + </p> + <p> + “We were both to blame; you and I did not really know each other. The best + thing we can do now is to release the poor girl from these silly promises, + that stand in the way of her settlement in life.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. There, Lucy, choose, for we both release you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Lucy gravely; “but how can you? No unfair advantage was + taken of me; I plighted my word knowingly and solemnly, and no human power + can release persons of honor from a solemn pledge. Besides, just now you + would release me; but you might not always be in the same mind. No, I will + keep faith with you both, and not place my truth at the mercy of any human + being nor of any circumstance. If that is all, please permit me to retire. + The less a young lady of my age thinks or talks about the other sex, the + more time she has for her books and her needle;” and, having delivered + this precious sentence, with a deliberate and most deceiving imitation of + the pedantic prude, she departed, and outside the door broke instantly + into a joyous chuckle at the expense of the plotters she had left looking + moonstruck in one another's faces. If the new allies had been both + Fountain, the apple of discord this sweet novice threw down between them + would have dissolved the alliance, as the sly novice meant it to do; but, + while the gentleman went storming about the room ripe for civil war, the + lady leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Fountain, it is no use your being cross with a female, or she + will get the better of you. She has outwitted us. We took her for a fool, + and she is a clever girl. I'll—tell—you—what, she is a + very clever girl. Never mind that, she is only a girl; and, if you will be + ruled by me, her happiness shall be secured in spite of her, and she shall + be engaged in less than a week.” + </p> + <p> + Fountain recognized his superior, and put himself under the lady's orders—in + an evil hour for Lucy. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl's triumph over the forces was but momentary; her ground was + not tenable. The person promised can release the person who promises—<i>volenti + non fit injuria.</i> Lucy found herself attacked with female weapons, that + you and I, sir, should laugh at; but they made her miserable. Cold looks; + short answers; solemnity; distance; hints at ingratitude and perverseness; + kisses intermitted all day, and the parting one at night degraded to a + dignified ceremony. Under this impalpable persecution the young + thoroughbred, that had steered the boat across the breakers, winced and + pined. + </p> + <p> + She did not want a husband or a lover, but she could not live without + being loved. She was not sent into the world for that. She began secretly + to hate the two gentlemen that had lost her her relations' affection, and + she looked round to see how she could get rid of them without giving fresh + offense to her dear aunt and uncle. If she could only make it their own + act! Now a man in such a case inclines to give the obnoxious parties a + chance of showing themselves generous and delicate; he would reveal the + whole situation to them, and indicate the generous and manly course; but + your thorough woman cannot do this. It is physically as well as morally + impossible to her. Misogynists say it is too wise, and not cunning enough. + So what does Miss Lucy do but turn round and make love to Captain Kenealy? + And the cold virgin being at last by irrevocable fate driven to + love-making, I will say this for her, she did not do it by halves. She + felt quite safe here. The good-natured, hollow captain was fortified + against passion by self-admiration. She said to herself: “Now here is a + peg with a military suit hanging to it; if I can only fix my eyes on this + piece of wood and regimentals, and make warm love to it, the love that + poets have dreamed and romances described, I may surely hope to disgust my + two admirers, and then they will abandon me and despise me. Ah! I could + love them if they would only do that.” + </p> + <p> + Well, for a young lady that had never, to her knowledge, felt the tender + passion, the imitation thereof which she now favored that little society + with was a wonderful piece of representation. Was Kenealy absent, behold + Lucy uneasy and restless; was he present; but at a distance, her eye + demurely devoured him; was he near her, she wooed him with such a god-like + mixture of fire, of tenderness, of flattery, of tact; she did so + serpentinely approach and coil round the soldier and his mental cavity, + that all the males in creation should have been permitted to defile past + (like the beasts going into the ark), and view this sweet picture a + moment, and infer how women would be wooed, and then go and do it. Effect: + </p> + <p> + Talboys and Hardie mortified to the heart's core; thought they had + altogether mistaken her character. “She is a love-sick fool.” + </p> + <p> + On Bazalgette: “Ass! Dodd was worth a hundred of him.” + </p> + <p> + On Kenealy: made him twirl his mustache. + </p> + <p> + On Fountain: filled him with dismay. There remained only one to be + hoodwinked. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENA. +</pre> + <p> + A letter is brought in and handed to Captain Kenealy. He reads it, and + looks a little—a very little—vexed. Nobody else notices it. + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “What is the matter? Oh, what has occurred?” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy. “Nothing particulaa.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “Don't deceive us: it is an order for you to join the horrid army.” + (Clasps her hands.) “You are going to leave us.” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy. “No, it is from my tailaa. He waunts to be paed.” (Glares + astonished.) + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “Pay the creature, and nevermore employ him.” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy. “Can't. Haven't got the money. Uncle won't daie. The begaa knows + I can't pay him, that is the reason why he duns.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy. “He knows it? then what business has he to annoy you thus? Take my + advice. Return no reply. That is not courteous. But when the sole motive + of an application is impertinence, silent contempt is the course best + befitting your dignity.” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy (twirling his mustache). “Dem the fellaa. Shan't take any notice + of him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette (to Lucy in passing). “Do you think we are all fools?” + </p> + <p> + <i>Ibi omnis effusus amor;</i> for La Bazalgette undeceived her ally and + Mr. Hardie, and the screw was put harder still on poor Lucy. She was no + longer treated like an equal, but made for the first time to feel that her + uncle and aunt were her elders and superiors, and, that she was in revolt. + All external signs of affection were withdrawn, and this was like docking + a strawberry of its water. A young girl may have flashes of spirit, + heroism even, but her mind is never steel from top to toe; it is sure to + be wax in more places than one. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody loves me now that poor Mr. Dodd is gone,” sighed Lucy. “Nobody + ever will love me unless I consent to sacrifice myself. Well, why not? I + shall never love any gentleman as others of my sex can love. I will go and + see Mrs. Wilson.” + </p> + <p> + So she ordered out her captain, and rode to Mrs. Wilson, and made her + captain hold her pony while she went in. Mrs. Wilson received her with a + tenor scream of delight that revived Lucy's heart to hear, and then it was + nothing but one broad gush of hilarity and cordiality—showed her the + house, showed her the cows, showed her the parlor at last, and made her + sit down. + </p> + <p> + “Come, set ye down, set ye down, and let me have a downright good look at + ye. It is not often I clap eyes on ye, or on anything like ye, for that + matter. Aren't ye well, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are ye sure? Haven't ye ailed anything since I saw ye up at the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are in care. Bless you, it is not the same face—to a + stranger, belike, but not to the one that suckled you. Why, there is next + door to a wrinkle on your pretty brow, and a little hollow under your eye, + and your face is drawn like, and not half the color. You are in trouble or + grief of some sort, Miss Lucy; and—who knows?—mayhap you be + come to tell it your poor old nurse. You might go to a worse part. Ay! + what touches you will touch me, my nursling dear, all one as if it was + your own mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! <i>you</i> love me,” cried Lucy; “I don't know why you love me so; I + have not deserved it of you, as I have of others that look coldly on me. + Yes, you love me, or you would not read my face like this. It is true, I + am a little—Oh, nurse, I am unhappy;” and in a moment she was + weeping and sobbing in Mrs. Wilson's arms. + </p> + <p> + The Amazon sat down with her, and rocked to and fro with her as if she was + still a child. “Don't check it, my lamb,” said she; “have a good cry; + never drive a cry back on your heart”; and so Lucy sobbed and sobbed, and + Mrs. Wilson rocked her. + </p> + <p> + When she had done sobbing she put up a grateful face and kissed Mrs. + Wilson. But the good woman would not let her go. She still rocked with + her, and said, “Ay, ay, it wasn't for nothing I was drawed so to go to + your house that day. I didn't know you were there; but I was drawed. I WAS + WANTED. Tell me all, my lamb; never keep grief on your heart; give it a + vent; put a part on't on me; I do claim it; you will see how much lighter + your heart will feel. Is it a young man?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no; I hate young men; I wish there were no such things. But for + them no dissension could ever have entered the house. My uncle and aunt + both loved me once, and oh! they were so kind to me. Yes; since you permit + me, I will tell you all.” + </p> + <p> + And she told her a part. + </p> + <p> + She told her the whole Talboys and Hardie part. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson took a broad and somewhat vulgar view of the distress. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Miss Lucy,” said she, “if that is all, you can soon sew up their + stockings. You don't depend on <i>them,</i> anyways: you are a young lady + of property.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. I have heard your dear mother say often as all her money was + settled on you by deed. Why, you must be of age, Miss Lucy, or near it.” + </p> + <p> + “The day after to-morrow, nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “There now! I knew your birthday could not be far off. Well, then, you + must wait till you are of age, and then, if they torment you or put on + you, 'Good-morning,' says you; 'if we can't agree together, let's agree to + part,' says you.” + </p> + <p> + “What! leave my relations!!” + </p> + <p> + “It is their own fault. Good friends before bad kindred! They only want to + make a handle of you to get 'em rich son-in-laws. You pluck up a sperrit, + Miss Lucy. There's no getting through the world without a bit of a + sperrit. You'll get put upon at every turn else; and if they don't vally + you in that house, why, off to another; y'ain't chained to their door, I + do suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “But, nurse, a young lady cannot live by herself: there is no instance of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “All wisdom had a beginning. 'Oh, shan't I spoil the pudding once I cut + it?' quoth Jack's wife.” + </p> + <p> + “What would people say?” + </p> + <p> + “What could they say? You come to me, which I am all the mother you have + got left upon earth, and what scandal could they make out of that, I + should like to know? Let them try it. But don't let me catch it atween + their lips, or down they do go on the bare ground, and their caps in + pieces to the winds of heaven;” and she flourished her hand and a massive + arm with a gesture free, inspired, and formidable. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! nurse, with you I should indeed feel safe from every ill. But, for + all that, I shall never go beyond the usages of society. I shall never + leave my aunt's house.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't say as you will. But I shall get your room ready this afternoon, + and no later.” + </p> + <p> + “No, nurse, you must not do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell'ee I shall. Then, whether you come or not, there 'tis. And when they + put on you, you have no call to fret. Says you, 'There's my room awaiting, + and likewise my welcome, too, at Dame Wilson's; I don't need to stand no + more nonsense here than I do choose,' says you. Dear heart! even a little + foolish, simple thought like that will help keep your sperrit up. You'll + see else—you'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nurse, how wise you are! You know human nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am older than you, miss, a precious sight; and if I hadn't got + one eye open at this time of day, why, when should I, you know?” + </p> + <p> + After this, a little home-made wine forcibly administered, and then much + kissing, and Lucy rode away revivified and cheered, and quite another + girl. Her spirits rose so that she proposed to Kenealy to extend their + ride by crossing the country to ——. She wanted to buy some + gloves. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas,” said the assenter; and off they cantered. + </p> + <p> + In the glove-shop who should Lucy find but Eve Dodd. She held out her + hand, but Eve affected not to observe, and bowed distantly. Lucy would not + take the hint. After a pause she said: + </p> + <p> + “Have you any news of Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” was the stiff reply. + </p> + <p> + “He left us without even saying good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after saving all our lives. Need I say that we are anxious, in our + turn, to hear of his safety? It was still very tempestuous when he left us + to catch the great ship, and he was in an open boat.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother is alive, Miss Fountain, if that is what you wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive? is he not well? has he met with any accident? any misfortune? is + he in the East Indiaman? has he written to you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are very curious: it is rather late in the day; but, if I am to speak + about my brother, it must be at home, and not in an open shop. I can't + trust my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going home, Miss Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like: it is close by.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy's heart quaked. Eve was so stern, and her eyes like basilisks'. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Miss Fountain, and I will tell you what you have done for my + brother. I did not court this, you know; I would have avoided your eye if + I could; it is your doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Dodd,” faltered Lucy, “and I should do it again. I have a right + to inquire after his welfare who saved my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Miss Fountain, his saving your life has lost him his ship and + ruined him for life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “He came in sight of the ship; but the captain, that was jealous of him + like all the rest, made all sail and ran from him: he chased her, and + often was near catching her, but she got clear out of the Channel, and my + poor David had to come back disgraced, ruined for life, and + broken-hearted. The Company will never forgive him for deserting his ship. + His career is blighted, and all for one that never cared a straw for him. + Oh, Miss Fountain, it was an evil day for my poor brother when first he + saw your face!” Eve would have said more, for her heart was burning with + wrath and bitterness, but she was interrupted. + </p> + <p> + Lucy raised both her hands to Heaven, and then, bowing her head, wept + tenderly and humbly. + </p> + <p> + A woman's tears do not always affect another woman; but one reason is, + they are very often no sign of grief or of any worthy feeling. The sex, + accustomed to read the nicer shades of emotion, distinguishes tears of + pique, tears of disappointment, tears of spite, tears various, from tears + of grief. But Lucy's was a burst of regret so sincere, of sorrow and pity + so tender and innocent that it fell on Eve's hot heart like the dew. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well,” she cried, “it was to be, it was to be; and I suppose I + oughtn't to blame you. But all he does for you tells against himself, and + that does seem hard. It isn't as if he and you were anything to one + another; then I shouldn't grudge it so much. He has lost his character as + a seaman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear!” + </p> + <p> + “He valued it a deal more than his life. He was always ready to throw THAT + away for you or anybody else. He has lost his standing in the <i>service.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You see he has no interest, like some of them; he only got on by being + better and cleverer than all the rest; so the Company won't listen to any + excuses from him, and, indeed, he is too proud to make them.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never be captain of a ship now?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies on?” + </p> + <p> + “The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all night + with you—then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days and + two nights chasing the <i>Combermere,</i> sometimes gaining, sometimes + losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then to beat back + against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is too horrible.” + </p> + <p> + “He staggered into me, white as a ghost. I got him to bed: he was in a + burning fever. In the night he was lightheaded, and all his talk was about + you. He kept fretting lest you should not have got safe home. It is always + so. We care the most for those that care the least for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he in the Indiaman?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss Fountain, he is not in the Indiaman,” cried Eve, her wrath + suddenly rising again; “he lies there, Miss Fountain, in that room, at + death's door, and you to thank for it.” + </p> + <p> + At this stab Lucy uttered a cry like a wounded deer. But this cry was + followed immediately by one of terror: the door opened suddenly, and there + stood David Dodd, looking as white as his sister had said, but, as usual, + not in the humor to succumb. “Me at death's port, did you say?” cried he, + in a loud tone of cheerful defiance; “tell that to the marines!!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + “I HEARD your voice, Miss Lucy; I would know it among a million; so I + rigged myself directly. Why, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Dodd,” sobbed Lucy, “she has told me all you have gone through, + and I am the wicked, wicked cause!” + </p> + <p> + David groaned. “If I didn't think as much. I heard the mill going. Ah! + Eve, my girl, your jawing-tackle is too well hung. Eve is a good sister to + me, Miss Lucy, and, where I am concerned, let her alone for making a + mountain out of a mole-hill. If you believe all she says, you are to + blame. The thing that went to my heart was to see my skipper run out his + stunsel booms the moment he saw me overhauling him; it was a dirty action, + and him an old shipmate. I am glad now I couldn't catch her, for if I had + my foot would not have been on the deck two seconds before his carcass + would have been in the Channel. And pray, Eve, what has Miss Fountain got + to do with that? the dirty lubber wasn't bred at her school, or he would + not have served an old messmate so. + </p> + <p> + “Belay all that, and let's hear something worth hearing. Now, Miss Lucy, + you tell me—oh, Lord, Eve, I say, isn't the thundering old dingy + room bright now?—you spin me your own yarn, if you will be so good. + Here you are, safe and sound, the Lord be praised! But I left you under + the lee of that thundering island: wasn't very polite, was it? but you + will excuse, won't you? Duty, you know—a seaman must leave his + pleasure for his duty. Tell me, now, how did you come on? Was the vessel + comfortable? You would not sail till the wind fell? Had you a good voyage? + A tiresome one, I am afraid: the sloop wasn't built for fast sailing. When + did you land?” + </p> + <p> + To this fire of eager questions Lucy was in no state to answer. “Oh, no, + Mr. Dodd,” she cried, “I can't. I am choking. Yes, Miss Dodd, I am the + heartless, unfeeling girl you think me.” Then, with a sudden dart, she + took David's hand and kissed it, and, both her hands hiding her blushing + face, she fled, and a single sob she let fall at the door was the last of + her. So sudden was her exit, it left both brother and sister stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “Eve, she is offended,” said David, with dismay. + </p> + <p> + “What if she is?” retorted Eve; “no, she is not offended; but I have made + her feel at last, and a good job, too. Why should she escape? she has done + all the mischief. Come, you go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I; I have been long enough on my beam-ends. And I have heard her + voice, and have seen her face, and they have put life into me. I shall + cruise about the port. I have gone to leeward of John Company's favor, but + there are plenty of coasting-vessels; I may get the command of one. I'll + try; a seaman never strikes his flag while there's a shot in the locker.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, put me up, Captain Kenealy! Oh, do pray make haste! don't dawdle + so!” Off cantered Lucy, and fanned her pony along without mercy. At the + door of the house she jumped off without assistance, and ran to Mr. + Bazalgette's study, and knocked hastily, and that gentleman was not a + little surprised when this unusual visitor came to his side with some + signs of awe at having penetrated his sanctum, but evidently driven by an + overpowering excitement. “Oh, Uncle Bazalgette! Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter? Why, the child is ill. Don't gasp like that, + Lucy. Come, pluck up courage; I am sure to be on your side, you know. What + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, you are always so kind to me; you know you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, am I? Noble old fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't make me laugh! ha! ha! oh! oh! oh! ha! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it, I have sent her into hysterics; no, she is coming round. Ten + thousand million devils, has anybody been insulting the child in my house? + They have. My wife, for a guinea.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no. It is about Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd? oho!” + </p> + <p> + “I have ruined him.” + </p> + <p> + “How have you managed that, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Then Lucy, all in a flutter, told Mr. Bazalgette what the reader has just + learned. + </p> + <p> + He looked grave. “Lucy,” said he, “be frank with me. Is not Mr. Dodd in + love with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>will</i> be frank with <i>you,</i> dear uncle, because you are + frank. Poor Mr. Dodd did love me once; but I refused him, and so his good + sense and manliness cured him directly.” + </p> + <p> + “So, now that he no longer loves you, you love him; that is so like you + girls.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, uncle; how ridiculous! If I loved Mr. Dodd, I could repair the + cruel injuries I have done him with a single word. I have only to recall + my refusal, and he—But I do not love Mr. Dodd. Esteem him I do, and + he has saved my life; and is he to lose his health, and his character, and + his means of honorable ambition for that? Do you not see how shocking this + is, and how galling to my pride? Yes, uncle, I <i>have</i> been insulted. + His sister told me to my face it was an evil day for him when he and I + first met—that was at Uncle Fountain's.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what am I to do, Lucy?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Uncle, what I thought was, if you would be so kind as to use your + influence with the Company in his favor. Tell them that if he did miss his + ship it was not by a fault, but by a noble virtue; tell them that it was + to save a fellow creature's life—a young lady's life—one that + did not deserve it from him, your own niece's; tell them it is not for + your honor he should be disgraced. Oh, uncle, you know what to say so much + better than I do.” + </p> + <p> + Bazalgette grinned, and straightway resolved to perpetrate a practical + joke, and a very innocent one. “Well,” said he, “the best way I can think + of to meet your views will be, I think, to get him appointed to the new + ship the Company is building.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy opened her eyes, and the blood rushed to her cheek. “Oh uncle, do I + hear right? a ship? Are you so powerful? are you so kind? do you love your + poor niece so well as all this? Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no end to my power,” said the old man, solemnly; “no limit to my + goodness, no bounds to my love for my poor niece. Are you in a hurry, my + poor niece? Shall we have his commission down to-morrow, or wait a month?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow? is it possible? Oh, yes! I count the minutes till I say to his + sister, 'There, Miss Dodd, I have friends who value me too highly to let + me lie under these galling obligations.' Dear, dear uncle, I don't mind + being under them to you, because I love you” (kisses). + </p> + <p> + “And not Mr. Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; and that is the reason I would rather give him a ship than—the + only other thing that would make him happy. And really, but for your + goodness, I should have been tempted to—ha! ha! Oh, I am so happy + now. No; much as I admire my preserver's courage and delicacy and + unselfishness and goodness, I don't love him; so, but for this, he MUST + have been unhappy for life, and then I should have been miserable + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly clear and satisfactory, my dear. Now, if the commission is to + be down to-morrow, you must not stay here, because I have other letters to + write, to go by the same courier that takes my application for the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you really think I will go till I have kissed you, Uncle + Bazalgette?” + </p> + <p> + “On a subject so important, I hardly venture to give an opin—hallo! + kissing, indeed? Why, it is like a young wolf flying at horseflesh.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that will teach you not to be kinder to me than anybody else is.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy ran out radiant and into the garden. Here she encountered Kenealy, + and, coming on him with a blaze of beauty and triumph, fired a resolution + that had smoldered in him a day or two. + </p> + <p> + He twirled his mustache and—popped briefly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <p> + AFTER the first start of rueful astonishment, the indignation of the just + fired Lucy's eyes. + </p> + <p> + She scolded him well. “Was this his return for all her late kindness?” + </p> + <p> + She hinted broadly at the viper of Aesop, and indicated more faintly an + animal that, when one bestows the choicest favors on it, turns and rends + one. Then, becoming suddenly just to the brute creation, she said: “No, it + is only your abominable sex that would behave so perversely, so + ungratefully.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't understand,” drawled Kenealy, “I thought you would laike it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, I don't laike it.” + </p> + <p> + “You seemed to be getting rather spooney on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Spooney! what is that? one of your mess-room terms, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas; so I thought you waunted me to pawp.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Kenealy, this subterfuge is unworthy of you. You know perfectly + well why I distinguished you. Others pestered me with their attachments + and nonsense, and you spared me that annoyance. In return, I did all in my + power to show you the grateful friendship I thought you worthy of. But you + have broken faith; you have violated the clear, though tacit understanding + that subsisted between us, and I am very angry with you. I have some + little influence left with my aunt, sir, and, unless I am much mistaken, + you will shortly rejoin the army, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What a boa! what a dem'd boa!” + </p> + <p> + “And don't swear; that is another foolish custom you gentlemen have; it is + almost as foolish as the other. Yes, I'll tell my aunt of you, and then + you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “What a boa! How horrid spaiteful you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am rather vindictive. But my aunt is ten times worse, as her + deserter shall find, unless—” + </p> + <p> + “Unless whawt?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you beg my pardon directly.” And at this part of the conversation + Lucy was fain to turn her head away, for she found it getting difficult to + maintain that severe countenance which she thought necessary to clothe her + words with terror, and subjugate the gallant captain. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I apolojaize,” said Kenealy. + </p> + <p> + “And I accept your apology; and don't do it again.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't, 'pon honaa. Look heah; I swear I didn't mean to affront yah; I + don't waunt yah to mayrry me; I only proposed out of civility.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then, it was not so black as it appeared. Courtesy is a good thing; + and if you thought that, after staying a month in a house, you were bound + by etiquette to propose to the marriageable part of it, it is pardonable, + only don't do it again, <i>please.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I'll take caa—I'll take caa. I say your tempaa is not—quite—what + those other fools think it is—no, by Jove;” and the captain glared. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense: I am only a little fiendish on this one point. Well, then, + steer clear of it, and you will find me a good crechaa on every other.” + </p> + <p> + Kenealy vowed he would profit by the advice. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is my hand: we are friends again.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't tell your aunt, nor the other fellaas?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Kenealy, I am not one of your garrison ladies; I am a young + person who has been educated; your extra civility will never be known to a + soul: and you shall not join the army but as a volunteer.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, dem me, Miss Fountain, if I wouldn't be cut in pieces to oblaige + you. Just you tray me, and you'll faind, if I am not very braight, I am a + man of honah. If those ether begaas annoy you, jaast tell me, and I'll + parade 'em at twelve paces, dem me.” + </p> + <p> + “I must try and find some less insane vent for your friendly feelings; and + what can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yah couldn't go on pretending to be spooney on me, could yah?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I laike it; makes the other begaas misable.” + </p> + <p> + “What worthy sentiments! it is a sin to balk them. I am sure there is no + reason why I should not appear to adore you in public, so long as you let + me keep my distance in private; but persons of my sex cannot do just what + they would like. We have feelings that pull us this way and that, and, + after all this, I am afraid I shall never have the courage to play those + pranks with you again; and that is a pity, since it amused you, and teased + those that tease me.” + </p> + <p> + In short, the house now contained two “holy alliances” instead of one. + Unfortunately for Lucy, the hostile one was by far the stronger of the + two; and even now it was preparing a terrible coup. + </p> + <p> + This evening the storm that was preparing blew good to one of a depressed + class, which cannot fail to gratify the just. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette. “Jane, come to my room a minute; I have something for + you. Here is a cashmere gown and cloak; the cloak I want; I can wear it + with anything; but you may have the gown.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, mum; it is beautiful, and a'most as good as new. I am + sure, mum, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you are a good girl, and a sensible girl. By the by, you might + give me your opinion upon something. Does Miss Lucy prefer any one of our + guests? You understand me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mum, it is hard to say. Miss Lucy is as reserved as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought she might—ahem!” + </p> + <p> + “No, mum, I do assure you, not a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you are a shrewd girl; tell me what you think: now, for + instance, suppose she was compelled to choose between, say Mr. Hardie and + Mr. Talboys, which would it be?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mum, if you ask my opinion, I don't think Miss Lucy is the one to + marry a fool; and by all accounts, there's a deal more in Mr. Hardies's + head than what there isn't in Mr. Talboysese's.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a clever girl. You shall have the cloak as well, and, if my niece + marries, you shall remain in her service all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly, mum. I don't desire no better mistress, married or + single; and Mr. Hardies is much respected in the town, and heaps o' money; + so miss and me we couldn't do no better, neither of us. Your servant, mum, + and thanks you for your bounty”; and Jane courtesied twice and went off + with the spoils. + </p> + <p> + In the corridor she met old Fountain. “Stop, Jane,” said he, “I want to + speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “At your service, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, I want to give you something to buy a new gown”; and + he took out a couple of sovereigns. “Where am I to put them? in your + breast-pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “Put them under the cloak, sir,” murmured Jane, tenderly. She loved + sovereigns. + </p> + <p> + He put his hand under the heap of cashmere, and a quick little claw hit + the coins and closed on them by almighty instinct. + </p> + <p> + “Now I want to ask your opinion. Is my niece in love with anyone?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Fountains, if she is she don't show it.” + </p> + <p> + “But doesn't she like one man better than another?” + </p> + <p> + “You may take your oath of that, if we could but get to her mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Which does she like best, this Hardie or Mr. Talboys? Come, tell me, + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, you know Mr. Talboys is an old acquaintance, and like brother + and sister at Font Abbey. I do suppose she have been a scare of times + alone with him for one, with Mr. Hardie's. That she should take up with a + stranger and jilt an old acquaintance, now is it feasible?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course not. It was a foolish question; you are a young woman of + sense. Here's a 5 pound note for you. You must not tell I spoke to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now is it likely, sir? My character would be broken forever.” + </p> + <p> + “And you shall be with my niece when she is Mrs. Talboys.” + </p> + <p> + “I might do worse, sir, and so might she. He is respected far and wide, + and a grand house, and a carriage and four, and everything to make a lady + comfortable. Your servant, sir, and wishes you many thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “And such as Jane was, all true servants are.” + </p> + <p> + The ancients used to bribe the Oracle of Delphi. Curious. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> + <p> + Lucy's twenty-first birthday dawned, but it was not to her the gay + exulting day it is to some. Last night her uncle and aunt had gone a step + further, and, instead of kissing her ceremoniously, had evaded her. They + were drawing matters to a climax: once of age, each day would make her + more independent in spirit as in circumstances. This morning she hoped + custom would shield her from unkindness for one day at least. But no, they + made it clear there was but one way back to their smiles. Their + congratulations at the breakfast-table were cold and constrained; her + heart fell; and long before noon on her birthday she was crying. Thus + weakened, she had to encounter a thoroughly prepared attack. Mr. + Bazalgette summoned her to his study at one o'clock, and there she found + him and Mrs. Bazalgette and Mr. Fountain seated solemnly in conclave. The + merchant was adding up figures. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, business,” said he. “Dick has added them up: his figures are + in that envelope; break the seal and open it, Lucy. If his total + corresponds with mine, we are right; if not, I am wrong, and you will all + have to go over it with me till we are right.” A general groan followed + this announcement. Luckily, the sum totals corresponded to a fraction. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Bazalgette made Lucy a little speech. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, in laying down that office which your amiable nature has + rendered so agreeable, I feel a natural regret on your account that the + property my colleague there and I have had to deal with on your account + has not been more important. However, as far as it goes, we have been + fortunate. Consols have risen amazingly since we took you off land and + funded you. The rise in value of your little capital since your mother's + death is calculated on this card. You have, also, some loose cash, which I + will hand over to you immediately. Let me see—eleven hundred and + sixty pounds and five shillings. Write your name in full on that paper, + Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + He touched a bell; a servant came. He wrote a line and folded it, + inclosing Lucy's signature. + </p> + <p> + “Let this go to Mr. Hardie's bank immediately. Hardie will give you three + per cent for your money. Better than nothing. You must have a check-book. + He sent me a new one yesterday. Here it is; you shall have it. I wonder + whether you know how to draw a check?” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, then. You note the particulars first on this counter-foil, + which thus serves in some degree for an account-book. In drawing the + check, place the sum in letters close to these printed words, and the sum + in figures close to the pound. For want of this precaution, the holder of + the check has been known to turn a 10 pound check into 110 pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh how wicked!” + </p> + <p> + “Mind what you say. Dexterity is the only virtue left in England; so we + must be on our guard, especially in what we write with our name attached.” + </p> + <p> + “I must say, Mr. Bazalgette, you are unwise to put such a sum of money + into a young girl's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “The young girl has been a woman an hour and ten minutes, and come into + her property, movables, and cash aforesaid.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were her real friend, you would take care of her money for her + till she marries.” + </p> + <p> + “The eighth commandment, my dear, the eighth commandment, and other + primitive axioms: <i>suum cuique,</i> and such odd sayings: 'Him as keeps + what isn't hisn, soon or late shall go to prison,' with similar apothegms. + Total: let us keep the British merchant and the Newgate thief as distinct + as the times permit. Fountain and Bazalgette, account squared, books + closed, and I'm off!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, uncle, pray stay!” said Lucy. “When you are by me, Rectitude and + Sense seem present in person, and I can lean on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Lean on yourself; the law has cut your leading-strings. Why patch 'em? It + has made you a woman from a baby. Rise to your new rank. Rectitude and + Sense are just as much wanted in the town of ——, where I am + due, as they are in this house. Besides, Sense has spoken uninterrupted + for ten minutes; prodigious! so now it is Nonsense's turn for the next ten + hours.” He made for the door; then suddenly returning, said: “I will leave + a grain of sense, etc., behind me. What is marriage? Do you give it up? + Marriage is a contract. Who are the parties? the papas and mammas, uncles + and aunts? By George, you would think so to hear them talk. No, the + contract is between two parties, and these two only. It is a printed + contract. Anybody can read it gratis. None but idiots sign a contract + without reading it; none but knaves sign a contract which, having read, + they find they cannot execute. Matrimony is a mercantile affair; very + well, then, import into it sound mercantile morality. Go to market; sell + well; but, d—n it all, deliver the merchandise as per sample, viz., + a woman warranted to love, honor and obey the purchaser. If you swindle + the other contracting party in the essentials of the contract, don't + complain when you are unhappy. Are shufflers entitled to happiness? and + what are those who shuffle and prevaricate in a church any better than + those who shuffle and prevaricate in a counting-house?” and the brute + bolted. + </p> + <p> + “My husband is a worthy man,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, languidly, “but now + and then he makes me blush for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Our good friend is a humorist,” replied Fountain, good-humoredly, “and + dearly loves a paradox”; and they pooh-poohed him without a particle of + malice. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Bazalgette turned to Lucy, and hoped that she did her the + justice to believe she had none but affectionate motives in wishing to see + her speedily established. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, aunt,” said Lucy. “Why should you wish to part with me? I give you + but little trouble in your great house.” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble, child? you know you are a comfort to have in any house.” + </p> + <p> + This pleased Lucy; it was the first gracious word for a long time. Having + thus softened her, Mrs. Bazalgette proceeded to attack her by all the + weaknesses of her sex and age, and for a good hour pressed her so hard + that the tears often gushed from Lucy's eyes over her red cheeks. The girl + was worn by the length of the struggle and the pertinacity of the assault. + She was as determined as ever to do nothing, but she had no longer the + power to resist in words. Seeing her reduced to silence, and not exactly + distinguishing between impassibility and yielding, Mrs. Bazalgette + delivered the <i>coup-de-grace.</i> + </p> + <p> + “I must now tell you plainly, Lucy, that your character is compromised by + being out all night with persons of the other sex. I would have spared you + this, but your resistance compels those who love you to tell you all. + Owing to that unfortunate trip, you are in such a situation that you <i>must</i> + marry.” + </p> + <p> + “The world is surely not so unjust as all this,” sighed Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know the world as I do,” was the reply. “And those who live in + it cannot defy it. I tell you plainly, Lucy, neither your uncle nor I can + keep you any longer, except as an engaged person. And even that engagement + ought to be a very short one.” + </p> + <p> + “What, aunt? what, uncle? your house is no longer mine?” and she buried + her head upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lucy,” said Mr. Fountain, “of course we would not have told you + this yesterday. It would have been ungenerous. But you are now your own + mistress; you are independent. Young persons in your situation can + generally forget in a day or two a few years of kindness. You have now an + opportunity of showing us whether you are one of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mrs. Bazalgette put in her word. “You will not lack people to + encourage you in ingratitude—perhaps my husband himself; but if he + does, it will make a lasting breach between him and me, of which you will + have been the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” said Lucy, with a shudder. “Why should dear Mr. + Bazalgette be drawn into my troubles? He is no relation of mine, only a + loyal friend, whom may God bless and reward for his kindness to a poor + fatherless, motherless girl. Aunt, uncle, if you will let me stay with + you, I will be more kind, more attentive to you than I have been. Be + persuaded; be advised. If you succeeded in getting rid of me, you might + miss me, indeed you might. I know all your little ways so well.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, we are not to be tempted to do wrong,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, + sternly. “Choose which of these two offers you will accept. Choose which + you please. If you refuse both, you must pack up your things, and go and + live by yourself, or with Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dodd? why is his name introduced? Was it necessary to insult me?” and + her eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody wishes to insult you, Lucy. And I propose, madam, we give her a + day to consider.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart; only, until she decides, she must excuse me if I do + not treat her with the same affection as I used, and as I hope to do + again. I am deeply wounded, and I am one that cannot feign.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not fear me, aunt; my heart is turned to ice. I shall never + intrude that love on which you set no value. May I retire?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette looked to Mr. Fountain, and both bowed acquiescence. Lucy + went out pale, but dry-eyed; despair never looked so lovely, or carried + its head more proudly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it,” said Mr. Fountain. “I am afraid we have driven the poor + girl too hard.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you afraid of, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “She looked to me just like a woman who would go and take an ounce of + laudanum. Poor Lucy! she has been a good niece to me, after all;” and the + water stood in the old bachelor's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette tapped him on the shoulder and said archly, but with a + tone that carried conviction, “She will take no poison. She will hate us + for an hour; then she will have a good cry: to-morrow she will come to our + terms; and this day next year she will be very much obliged to us for + doing what all women like, forcing her to her good with a little + harshness.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> + <p> + SAID Lucy as she went from the door, “Thank Heaven, they have insulted + me!” + </p> + <p> + This does not sound logical, but that is only because the logic is so + subtle and swift. She meant something of this kind: “I am of a yielding + nature; I might have sacrificed myself to retain their affection; but they + have roused a vice of mine, my pride, against them, so now I shall be + immovable in right, thanks to my wicked pride. Thank Heaven, they have + insulted me!” She then laid her head upon her bed and moaned, for she was + stricken to the heart. Then she rose and wrote a hasty note, and, putting + it in her bosom, came downstairs and looked for Captain Kenealy. He proved + to be in the billiard-room, playing the spotted ball against the plain + one. “Oh, Captain Kenealy, I am come to try your friendship; you said I + might command you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas!” + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>will</i> you mount my pony, and ride with this to Mrs. Wilson, to + that farm where I kept you waiting so long, and you were not angry as + anyone else would have been?” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas!” + </p> + <p> + “But not a soul must see it, or know where you are gone.” + </p> + <p> + “All raight, Miss Fountain. Don't you be fraightened; I'm close as the + grave, and I'll be there in less than haelf an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but don't hurt my dear pony either; don't beat him; and, above all, + don't come back without an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bring you an answer in an hour and twenty minutes.” The captain + looked at his watch, and went out with a smartness that contrasted happily + with his slowness of speech. + </p> + <p> + Lucy went back to her own room and locked herself in, and with trembling + hands began to pack up her jewels and some of her clothes. But when it + came to this, wounded pride was sorely taxed by a host of reminiscences + and tender regrets, and every now and then the tears suddenly gushed and + fell upon her poor hands as she put things out, or patted them flat, to + wander on the world. + </p> + <p> + While she is thus sorrowfully employed, let me try and give an outline of + the feelings that had now for some time been secretly growing in her, + since without their co-operation she would never have been driven to the + strange step she now meditated. + </p> + <p> + Lucy was a very unselfish and very intelligent girl. The first trait had + long blinded her to something; the second had lately helped to open her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + If ever you find a person quick to discover selfishness in others, be sure + that person is selfish; for it is only the selfish who come into habitual + collision with selfishness, and feel how sharp-pointed a thing it is. When + Unselfish meets Selfish, each acts after his kind; Unselfish gives way, + Selfish holds his course, and so neither is thwarted, and neither finds + out the other's character. + </p> + <p> + Lucy, then, of herself, would never have discovered her relatives' + egotism. But they helped her, and she was too bright not to see anything + that was properly pointed out to her. + </p> + <p> + When Fountain kept showing and proving Mrs. Bazalgette's egotism, and Mrs. + Bazalgette kept showing and proving Mr. Fountain's egotism, Lucy ended by + seeing both their egotisms, as clearly as either could desire; and, as she + despised egotism, she lost her respect for both these people, and let them + convince her they were both persons against whom she must be on her guard. + </p> + <p> + This was the direct result of their mines and countermines heretofore + narrated, but not the only result. It followed indirectly, but inevitably, + that the present holy alliance failed. Lucy had not forgotten the past; + and to her this seemed not a holy, but an unholy, hollow, and empty + alliance. + </p> + <p> + “They hate one another,” said she, “but it seems they hate me worse, since + they can hide their mutual dislike to combine against poor me.” + </p> + <p> + Another thing: Lucy was one of those women who thirst for love, and, + though not vain enough to be always showing they think they ought to be + beloved, have quite secret <i>amour propre</i> enough to feel at the + bottom of their hearts that they were sent here to that end, and that it + is a folly and a shame not to love them more or less. + </p> + <p> + If ever Madame Ristori plays “Maria Stuarda” within a mile of you, go and + see her. Don't chatter: you can do that at home; attend to the scene; the + worst play ever played is not so unimproving as chit-chat. Then, when the + scaffold is even now erected, and the poor queen, pale and tearful, + palpitates in death's grasp, you shall see her suddenly illumined with a + strange joy, and hear her say, with a marvelous burst of feminine triumph, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have been <i>amata molto!!!”</i> +</pre> + <p> + Uttered, under a scaffold, as the Italian utters it, this line is a + revelation of womanhood. + </p> + <p> + The English virgin of our humbler tale had a soul full of this feeling, + only she had never learned to set the love of sex above other loves; but, + mark you, for that very reason, a mortal insult to her heart from her + beloved relatives was as mortifying, humiliating and unpardonable as is, + to other high-spirited girls, an insult from their favored lover. + </p> + <p> + What could she do more than she had done to win their love? No, their + hearts were inaccessible to her. + </p> + <p> + “They wish to get rid of me. Well, they shall. They refuse me their + houses. Well, I will show them the value of their houses to me. It was + their hearts I clung to, not their houses.” + </p> + <p> + A tap came to Lucy's door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that? I am busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, miss!” said an agitated voice, “may I speak to you—the + captain!” + </p> + <p> + “What captain?” inquired Lucy, without opening the door. + </p> + <p> + “Knealys, miss. + </p> + <p> + “I will come out to you. Now. Has Captain Kenealy returned already?” + </p> + <p> + “La! no, miss. He haven't been anywhere as I know of. He had them about + him as couldn't spare him.” + </p> + <p> + “Something is the matter, Jane. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Jane lowered her voice mysteriously. “Well, miss, the captain is—in + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the fact is, miss, the captain's—took” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand you. Pray speak intelligibly.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Kenealy arrested! Oh, Heaven! for what crime?” + </p> + <p> + “La, miss, no crime at all—leastways not so considered by the + gentry. He is only took in payment of them beautiful reg-mentals. However, + black or red, he is always well put on. I am sure he looks just out of a + band-box; and I got it all out of one of the men as it's a army tailor, + which he wrote again and again, and sent his bill, and the captain he took + no notice; then the tailor he sent him a writ, and the captain he took no + notice; then the tailor he lawed him, but the captain he kep' on a taking + no more notice nor if it was a dog a barking, and then a putting all them + ere barks one after another in a letter, and sending them by the post; so + the end is, the captain is arrested; and now he behooves to attend a bit + to what is a going on around an about him, as the saying is, and so he is + waiting to pay you his respects before he starts for Bridewell.” + </p> + <p> + “My fatal advice! I ruin all my friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep dark,” says he; “don't tell a soul except Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? Oh?” + </p> + <p> + Jane offered to show her that, and took her to the stable yard. Arriving + with a face full of tender pity and concern, Lucy was not a little + surprised to find the victim smoking cigars in the center of his smoking + captors. The men touched their hats, and Captain Kenealy said: “Isn't it a + boa, Miss Fountain? they won't let me do your little commission. In London + they will go anywhere with a fellaa.” + </p> + <p> + “London ye knows,” explained the assistant, “but this here is full of hins + and houts, and folyidge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” cried Lucy to the best-dressed captor, “surely you will not be + so cruel as to take a gentleman like Captain Kenealy to prison?” + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry, marm, but we 'ave no hoption: takes 'em every day; don't we, + Bill?” + </p> + <p> + Bill nodded. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, as it is only for money, can you not be induced by—by—money—” + </p> + <p> + “Bill, lady's going to pay the debtancosts. Show her the ticket. Debt + eighty pund, costs seven pund eighteen six.” + </p> + <p> + “What! will you liberate him if I pay you eighty-eight pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, marm, to oblige you we will; won't we, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + He winked. Bill nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then pray stay here a minute, and this shall be arranged to your entire + satisfaction”; and she glided swiftly away, followed by Jane, wriggling. + </p> + <p> + “Quite the lady, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Kevite. Captn is in luck. Hare ve to be at the vedding, capn?” + </p> + <p> + “Dem your impudence! I'll cross-buttock yah!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Bill—queering a gent. Draw it mild, captain. + Debtancosts ain't paid yet. Here they come, though.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy returned swiftly, holding aloft a slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir, that is a check for 90 pounds; it is the same thing as money, + you are doubtless aware.” The man took it and inspected it keenly. + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry, marm, but can't take it. It's a lady's check.” + </p> + <p> + “What! is it not written properly?” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful, marm. But when we takes these beautiful-wrote checks to the + bank, the cry is always, 'No assets.'” + </p> + <p> + “But Uncle Bazalgette said everybody would give me money for it.” + </p> + <p> + “What! is Mr. Bazalgette your uncle, marm? then you go to him, and get his + check in place of yours, and the captain will be free as the birds in the + hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, sir,” cried Lucy, and the next minute she was in Mr. + Bazalgette's study. “Uncle, don't be angry with me: it is for no unworthy + purpose; only don't ask me; it might mortify another; but <i>would</i> you + give me a check of your own for mine? They will not receive mine.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bazalgette looked grave, and even sad; but he sat quietly down without + a word, and drew her a check, taking hers, which he locked in his desk. + The tears were in Lucy's eyes at his gravity and his delicacy. “Some day I + will tell you,” said she. “I have nothing to reproach myself, indeed—indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Make the rogue—or jade—give you a receipt,” groaned + Bazalgette. + </p> + <p> + “All right, marm, this time. Captain, the world is hall before you where + to chewse. But this is for ninety, marm;” and he put his hand very slowly + into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor to keep the rest for your trouble, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble's a pleasure, marm. It is not often we gets a tip for taking a + gent. Ve are funk shin hairies as is not depreciated, mam, and the more + genteel we takes 'em the rougher they cuts; and the very women no more + like you nor dark to light; but flies at us like ryal Bengal tigers, + through taking of us for the creditors.” + </p> + <p> + “Verehas we hare honly servants of the ke veen;” suggested No. 2, hashing + his mistress's English. + </p> + <p> + “Stow your gab, Bill, and mizzle. Let the captain thank the lady. + Good-day, marm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor friend, what language! and my ill advice threw you into their + company!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Kenealy told her, in his brief way, that the circumstance was one + of no import, except in so far as it had impeded his discharge of his duty + to her. He then mounted the pony, which had been waiting for him more than + half an hour. + </p> + <p> + “But it is five o'clock,” said Lucy; “you will be too late for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner be dem—d,” drawled the man of action, and rode off like a + flash. + </p> + <p> + “It is to be, then,” said Lucy, and her heart ebbed. It had ebbed and + flowed a good many times in the last hour or two. + </p> + <p> + Captain Kenealy reappeared in the middle of dinner. Lucy scanned his face, + but it was like the outside of a copy-book, and she was on thorns. Being + too late, he lost his place near her at dinner, and she could not whisper + to him. However, when the ladies retired he opened the door, and Lucy let + fall a word at his feet: “Come up before the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Acting on this order, Kenealy came up, and found Lucy playing sad tunes + softly on the piano and Mrs. Bazalgette absent. She was trying something + on upstairs. He gave Lucy a note from Mrs. Wilson. She opened it, and the + joyful color suffused her cheek, and she held out her hand to him; but, as + she turned her head away mighty prettily at the same time, she did not see + the captain was proffering a second document, and she was a little + surprised when, instead of a warm grasp, all friendship and no love, a + piece of paper was shoved into her delicate palm. She took it; looked + first at Kenealy, then at it, and was sore puzzled. + </p> + <p> + The document was in Kenealy's handwriting, and at first Lucy thought it + must be intended as a mere specimen of caligraphy; for not only was it + beautifully written, but in letters of various sizes. There were three + gigantic vowels, I. O. U. There were little wee notifications of time and + place, and other particulars of medium size. The general result was that + Henry Kenealy O'd Lucy Fountain ninety pound for value received per loan. + Lucy caught at the meaning. “But, my dear friend,” said she, innocently, + “you mistake. I did not lend it you; I meant to give it you. Will you not + accept it? Are we not friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Much oblaiged. Couldn't do it. Dishonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray do not let me wound your pride. I know what it is to have one's + pride wounded; call it a loan if you wish. But, dear friend, what am I to + do with this?” + </p> + <p> + “When you want the money, order your man of business to present it to me, + and, if I don't pay, lock me up, for I shall deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand. This is a memorandum—a sort of reminder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas.” + </p> + <p> + “Then clearly I am not the person to whom it should be given. No; if you + want to be reminded of this mighty matter, put this in your desk; if it + gets into mine, you will never see it again; I will give you fair warning. + There—hide it—quick—here they come.” + </p> + <p> + They did come, all but Mr. Bazalgette, who was at work in his study. Mr. + Talboys came up to the piano and said gravely, “Miss Fountain, are you + aware of the fate of the lugger—of the boat we went out in?” + </p> + <p> + Indeed I am. I have sent the poor widow some clothes and a little money.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only just been informed of it,” said Mr. Talboys, “and I feel + under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + “The feeling does you credit.” + </p> + <p> + “Should you meet him, will you do me the honor to express my gratitude to + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I would, with pleasure, Mr. Talboys, but there is no chance whatever of + my seeing Mr. Dodd. His sister is staying in Market Street, No. 80, and if + you would call on them or write to them, it would be a kindness, and I + think they would both feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Talboys, doubtfully. Here a servant stepped up to Miss + Fountain. “Master would be glad to see you in his study, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “I have got something for you, Lucy. I know what it is, so run away with + it, and read it in your own room, for I am busy.” He handed her a long + sealed packet. She took it, trembling, and flew to her own room with it, + like a hawk carrying off a little bird to its nest. She broke the enormous + seal and took out the inclosure. It was David Dodd's commission. He was + captain of the <i>Rajah,</i> the new ship of eleven hundred tons' burden. + </p> + <p> + While she gazes at it with dilating eye and throbbing heart, I may as well + undeceive the reader. This was not really effected in forty-eight hours. + Bazalgette only pretended that, partly out of fun, partly out of nobility. + Ever since a certain interview in his study with David Dodd, who was a man + after his own heart, he had taken a note, and had worked for him with “the + Company;” for Bazalgette was one of those rare men who reduce performance + to a certainty long before they promise. His promises were like pie-crust + made to be eaten, and eaten hot. + </p> + <p> + Lucy came out of her room, and at the same moment issued forth from hers + Mrs. Bazalgette in a fine new dress. It was that black <i>glace;</i> silk, + divested of gloom by cheerful accessories, in which she had threatened to + mourn eternally Lucy's watery fate. Fire flashed from the young lady's + eyes at the sight of it. She went down to her uncle, muttering between her + ivory teeth: “All the same—all the same;” and her heart flowed. The + next minute, at sight of Mr. Bazalgette it ebbed. She came into his room, + saying: “Oh, Uncle Bazalgette, it is not to thank you—that I can + never do worthily; it is to ask another favor. Do, pray, let me spend this + evening with you; let me be where you are. I will be as still as a mouse. + See, I have brought some work; or, if you <i>would</i> but let me help + you. Indeed, uncle, I am not a fool. I am very quick to learn at the + bidding of those I love. Let me write your letters for you, or fold them + up, or direct them, or something—do, pray!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the caprices of young ladies! Well, can you write large and plain? + Not you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can <i>imitate</i> anything or anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Imitate this hand then. I'll walk and dictate, you sit and write.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how nice!” + </p> + <p> + “Delicious! The first is to—Hetherington. Now, Lucy, this is a + dishonest, ungrateful old rogue, who has made thousands by me, and now + wants to let me into a mine, with nothing in it but water. It would suck + up twenty thousand pounds as easily as that blotting-paper will suck up + our signature.” + </p> + <p> + “Heartless traitor! monster!” cried Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and her eye flashed and the pen was to her a stiletto. + </p> + <p> + Bazalgette dictated, “My dear Sir—” + </p> + <p> + “What? to a cheat?” + </p> + <p> + “Custom, child. I'll have a stamp made. Besides, if we let them see we see + through them, they would play closer and closer—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sir—In answer to yours of date 11th instant, I regret to + say—that circumstances prevent—my closing—with your + obliging—and friendly offer.” + </p> + <p> + They wrote eight letters; and Lucy's quick fingers folded up prospectuses, + and her rays brightened the room. When the work was done, she clung round + Mr. Bazalgette and caressed him, and seemed strangely unwilling to part + with him at all; in fact, it was twelve o'clock, and the drawing-room + empty, when they parted. + </p> + <p> + At one o'clock the whole house was dark except one room, and both windows + of that room blazed with light. And it happened there was a spectator of + this phenomenon. A man stood upon the grass and eyed those lights as if + they were the stars of his destiny. + </p> + <p> + It was David Dodd. Poor David! he had struck a bargain, and was to command + a coasting vessel, and carry wood from the Thames to our southern ports. + An irresistible impulse brought him to look, before he sailed, on the + place that held the angel who had destroyed his prospects, and whom he + loved as much as ever, though he was too proud to court a second refusal. + </p> + <p> + “She watches, too,” thought David, “but it is not for me, as I for her.” + </p> + <p> + At half past one the lights began to dance before his wearied eyes, and + presently David, weakened by his late fever, dozed off and forgot all his + troubles, and slept as sweetly on the grass as he had often slept on the + hard deck, with his head upon a gun. + </p> + <p> + Luck was against the poor fellow. He had not been unconscious much more + than ten minutes when Lucy's window opened and she looked out; and he + never saw her. Nor did she see him; for, though the moon was bright, it + was not shining on him; he lay within the shadow of a tree. But Lucy did + see something—a light upon the turnpike road about forty yards from + Mr. Bazalgette's gates. She slipped cautiously down, a band-box in her + hand, and, unbolting the door that opened on the garden, issued out, + passed within a few yards of Dodd, and went round to the front, and + finally reached the turnpike road. There she found Mrs. Wilson, with a + light-covered cart and horse, and a lantern. At sight of her Mrs. Wilson + put out the light, and they embraced; then they spoke in whispers. + </p> + <p> + “Come, darling, don't tremble; have you got much more?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, several things.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at that, now! But, dear heart, I was the same at your age, and + should be now, like enough. Fetch them all, as quick as you like. I am + feared to leave Blackbird, or I'd help you down with 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there nobody with you to take care of us?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—men folk? Not if I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. You are wise. Oh, how courageous!” And she went back for + her finery. And certain it is she had more baggage than I should choose + for a forced march. + </p> + <p> + But all has an end—even a female luggage train; so at last she put + out all her lights and came down, stepping like a fairy, with a large + basket in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that by this time the moon's position was changed, and + only a part of David lay in the shade; his head and shoulders glittered in + broad moonlight; and Lucy, taking her farewell of a house where she had + spent many happy days, cast her eyes all around to bid good-by, and spied + a man lying within a few paces, and looking like a corpse in the silver + sheen. She dropped her basket; her knees knocked together with fear, and + she flew toward Mrs. Wilson. But she did not go far, for the features, + indistinct as they were by distance and pale light, struck her mind, and + she stopped and looked timidly over her shoulder. The figure never moved. + Then, with beating heart, she went toward him slowly and so stealthily + that she would have passed a mouse without disturbing it, and presently + she stood by him and looked down on him as he lay. + </p> + <p> + And as she looked at him lying there, so pale, so uncomplaining, so + placid, under her windows, this silent proof of love, and the thought of + the raging sea this helpless form had steered her through, and all he had + suffered as well as acted for her, made her bosom heave, and stirred all + that was woman within her. He loved her still, then, or why was he here? + And then the thought that she had done something for him too warmed her + heart still more toward him. And there was nothing for her to repel now, + for he lay motionless; there was nothing for her to escape—he did + not pursue her; nothing to negative—he did not propose anything to + her. Her instinct of defense had nothing to lay hold of; so, womanlike, + she had a strong impulse to wake him and be kind to him—as kind as + she could be without committing herself. But, on the other hand, there was + shy, trembling, virgin modesty, and shame that he should detect her making + a midnight evasion, and fear of letting him think she loved him. + </p> + <p> + While she stood thus, with something drawing her on and something drawing + her back, and palpitating in every fiber, Mrs. Wilson's voice was heard in + low but anxious tones calling her. A feather turned the balanced scale. + She must go. Fate had decided for her. She was called. Then the sprites of + mischief tempted her to let David know she <i>had been</i> near him. She + longed to put his commission into his pocket; but that was impossible. It + was at the very bottom of her box. She took out her tablets, wrote the + word “Adieu,” tore out half the leaf, and, bending over David, attached + the little bit of paper by a pin to the tail of his coat. If he had been + ever so much awake he could not have felt her doing it; for her hand + touching him, and the white paper settling on his coat, was all done as + lights a spot of down on still water from the bending neck of a swan. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear Mrs. Wilson, we must not go yet. I will hold the horse, and you + must go back for me for something.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm agreeable. What is it? Why, what is up? How you do pant!” + </p> + <p> + “I have made a discovery. There is a gentleman lying asleep there on the + wet grass.” + </p> + <p> + “Lackadaisy! why, you don't say so.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a friend; and he will catch his death.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course he will. He will have had a drop too much, Miss Lucy. I'll + wake him, and we will take him along home with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not for the world, nurse. I would not have him see what I am doing, + oh, not for all the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In there, under the great tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you get into the cart, miss, and hold the reins”; and Mrs. Wilson + went into the grounds and soon found David. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand on his shoulder, and he awoke directly, and looked + surprised at Mrs. Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Are you better, sir?” said the good woman. “Why, if it isn't the handsome + gentleman that was so kind to me! Now do ee go in, sir—do ee go in. + You will catch your death o' cold.” She made sure he was staying at the + house. + </p> + <p> + David looked up at Lucy's windows. “Yes, I will go home, Mrs. Wilson; + there is nothing to stay for now”; and he accompanied her to the cart. But + Mrs. Wilson remembered Lucy's desire not to be seen; so she said very + loud, “I'm sure it's very lucky me and <i>my niece</i> happened to be + coming home so late, and see you lying there. Well, one good turn deserves + another. Come and see me at my farm; you go through the village of + Harrowden, and anybody there will tell you where Dame Wilson do live. I <i>would</i> + ask you to-night, but—” she hesitated, and Lucy let down her veil. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, not now; my sister will be fretting as it is. + Good-morning”; and his steps were heard retreating as Mrs. Wilson mounted + the cart. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should have liked to have taken him home and warmed him a bit,” + said the good woman to Lucy; “it is enough to give him the rheumatics for + life. However, he is not the first honest man as has had a drop too much, + and taken 's rest without a feather-bed. Alack, miss, why, you are all of + a tremble! What ails <i>you?</i> I'm a fool to ask. Ah! well, you'll soon + be at home, and naught to vex you. That is right; have a good cry, do. Ay, + ay, <i>'tis</i> hard to be forced to leave our nest. But all places are + bright where love abides; and there's honest hearts both here and there, + and the same sky above us wherever we wander, and the God of the + fatherless above that; and better a peaceful cottage than a palace full of + strife.” And with many such homely sayings the rustic consoled her + nursling on their little journey, not quite in vain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> + <p> + NEXT morning the house was in an uproar. Servants ran to and fro, and the + fish-pond was dragged at Mr. Fountain's request. But on these occasions + everybody claims a right to speak, and Jane came into the breakfast-room + and said: “If you please, mum, Miss Lucy isn't in the pond, for she have + taken a good part of her clothes, and all her jewels.” + </p> + <p> + This piece of common sense convinced everybody on the spot except Mrs. + Bazalgette. That lady, if she had decided on “making a hole in the water,” + would have sat on the bank first, and clapped on all her jewels, and all + her richest dresses, one on the top of another. Finally, Mr. Bazalgette, + who wore a somber air, and had not said a word, requested everybody to + mind their own business. “I have a communication from Lucy,” said he, “and + I do not at present disapprove the step she has taken.” + </p> + <p> + All eyes turned with astonishment toward him, and the next moment all + voices opened on him like a pack of hounds. But he declined to give them + any further information. Between ourselves he had none to give. The little + note Lucy left on his table merely begged him to be under no anxiety, and + prayed him to suspend his judgment of her conduct till he should know the + whole case. It was his strong good sense which led him to pretend he was + in the whole secret. By this means he substituted mystery for scandal, and + contrived that the girl's folly might not be irreparable. + </p> + <p> + At the same time he was deeply indignant with her, and, above all, with + her hypocrisy in clinging round him and kissing him the very night she + meditated flight from his house. + </p> + <p> + “I must find the girl out and get her back;” said he, and directly after + breakfast he collected his myrmidons and set them to discover her retreat. + </p> + <p> + The outward frame-work of the holy alliance remained standing, but within + it was dissolving fast. Each of the allies was even now thinking how to + find Lucy and make a separate peace. During the flutter which now + subsided, one person had done nothing but eat pigeon-pie. It was Kenealy, + captain of horse. + </p> + <p> + Now eating pigeon-pie is not in itself a suspicious act, but ladies are so + sharp. Mrs. Bazalgette said to herself, “This creature alone is not a bit + surprised (for Bazalgette is fibbing); why is this creature not surprised? + humph! Captain Kenealy,” said she, in honeyed tones, “what would you + advise us to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Advertaize,” drawled the captain, as cool as a cucumber. + </p> + <p> + “Advertise? What! publish her name?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no names. I'll tell you;” and he proceeded to drawl out very slowly, + from memory, the following advertisement. N. B.—The captain was a + great reader of advertisements, and of little else. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “WANDERAA, RETARN. +</pre> + <p> + “If L. F. will retarn—to her afflicted—relatives—she + shall be received with open aams. And shall be forgotten and forgiven—and + reunaited affection shall solace every wound.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the style. It always brings 'em back—dayvilish good paie—have + some moa.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fountain and Mrs. Bazalgette raised an outcry against the captain's + advice, and, when the table was calm again, Mrs. Bazalgette surprised them + all by fixing her eyes on Kenealy, and saying quietly, “You know where she + is.” She added more excitedly: “Now don't deny it. On your honor, sir, + have you no idea where my niece is?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honah, I have an idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rayther not.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would prefer to tell me in private?” + </p> + <p> + “No; prefer not to tell at all.” + </p> + <p> + Then the whole table opened on him, and appealed to his manly feeling, his + sense of hospitality, his humanity—to gratify their curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Kenealy stretched himself out from the waist downward, and delivered + himself thus, with a double infusion of his drawl:— + </p> + <p> + “See yah all dem—d first.” + </p> + <p> + At noon on the same day, by the interference of Mrs. Bazalgette, the + British army was swelled with Kenealy, captain of horse. + </p> + <p> + The whole day passed, and Lucy's retreat was not yet discovered. But more + than one hunter was hemming her in. + </p> + <p> + The next day, being the second after her elopement with her nurse, at + eleven in the forenoon, Lucy and Mrs. Wilson sat in the little parlor + working. Mrs. Wilson had seen the poultry fed, the butter churned, and the + pudding safe in the pot, and her mind was at ease for a good hour to come, + so she sat quiet and peaceful. Lucy, too, was at peace. Her eye was clear; + and her color coming back; she was not bursting with happiness, for there + was a sweet pensiveness mixed with her sweet tranquillity; but she looked + every now and then smiling from her work up at Mrs. Wilson, and the dame + kept looking at her with a motherly joy caused by her bare presence on + that hearth. Lucy basked in these maternal glances. At last she said: + “Nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear?” + </p> + <p> + “If you had never done anything for me, still I should know you loved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Should ye, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; there is the look in your eye that I used to long to see in my + poor aunt's, but it never came.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Lucy, I can't help it. To think it is really you setting there + by my fire! I do feel like a cat with one kitten. You should check me + glaring you out o' countenance like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Check you? I could not bear to lose one glance of that honest tender eye. + I would not exchange one for all the flatteries of the world. I am so + happy here, so tranquil, under my nurse's wing.” + </p> + <p> + With this declaration came a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson caught it. “Is there nothing wanting, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do keep wishing for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can't help my thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can help keeping them from me, nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, I am like a mother; I watch every word of yours and every + look; and it is my belief you deceive yourself a bit: many a young maid + has done that. I do judge there is a young man that is more to you than + you think for.” + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth is that, nurse?” asked Lucy, coloring. + </p> + <p> + “The handsome young gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they are all handsome—all my pests.” + </p> + <p> + “The one I found under your window, Miss Lucy; he wasn't in liquor; so + what was he there for? and you know you were not at your ease till you had + made me go and wake him, and send him home; and you were all of a tremble. + I'm a widdy now, and can speak my mind to men-folk all one as women-folk; + but I've been a maid, and I can mind how I was in those days. Liking did + use to whisper me to do so and so; Shyness up and said, 'La! not for all + the world; what'll he think?'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nurse, do you believe me capable of loving one who does not love me?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Who said he doesn't love you? What was he there for? I stick to + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, nurse, dear, be reasonable; if Mr. Dodd loved me, would he go to + sleep in my presence?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Miss Lucy, the poor soul was maybe asleep before you left your room.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all the same. He slept while I stood close to him ever so long. + Slept while I—If I loved anybody as these gentlemen pretend they + love us, should I sleep while the being I adored was close to me?” + </p> + <p> + “You are too hard upon him. 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.' + Why, miss, we do read of Eutychus, how he snoozed off setting under Paul + himself—up in a windy—and down a-tumbled. But parson says it + wasn't that he didn't love religion, or why should Paul make it his + business to bring him to life again, 'stead of letting un lie for a + warning to the sleepy-headed ones. ''Twas a wearied body, not a heart cold + to God,' says our parson.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, nurse, I take you at your word. If Eutychus had been Eutycha, and in + love with St. Paul, Eutycha would never have gone to sleep, though St. + Paul preached all day and all night; and if Dorcas had preached instead of + St. Paul, and Eutychus been in love with her, he would never have gone to + sleep, and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + At this home-thrust Mrs. Wilson was staggered, but the next moment her + sense of discomfiture gave way to a broad expression of triumph at her + nursling's wit. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Miss Lucy,” cried she, showing a broadside of great white teeth in a + rustic chuckle, “but ye've got a tongue in your head. Ye've sewed up my + stocking, and 'tisn't many of them can do that.” Lucy followed up her + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “And, nurse, even when he was wide awake and stood by the cart, no inward + sentiment warned him of my presence; a sure sign he did not love me. + Though I have never experienced love, I have read of it, and know all + about it.” [<i>Jus-tice des Femmes!</i>] + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Lucy, have it your own way; after all, if he loves you he will + find you out.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he would, and you will see he will do nothing of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish I knew where he was; I would pull him in at my door by the + scruf of the neck.” + </p> + <p> + “And then I should jump out at the window. Come, try on your new cap, + nurse, that I have made for you, and let us talk about anything you like + except gentlemen. Gentlemen are a sore subject with me. Gentlemen have + been my ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “La, Miss Lucy!” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you they have; why, have they not set my uncle's heart against + me, and my aunt's, and robbed me of the affection I once had for both? I + believe gentlemen to be the pests of society; and oh! the delight of being + here in this calm retreat, where love dwells, and no gentleman can find + me. Ah! ah! Oh! What is that?” + </p> + <p> + For a heavy blow descended on the door. “That is Jenny's <i>knock,”</i> + said Mrs. Wilson; dryly. “Come in, Jenny.” The servant, thus invited, + burst the door open as savagely as she had struck it, and announced with a + knowing grin, “A GENTLEMAN—<i>for Miss Fountain!!”</i> + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> + <p> + DAVID and Eve sat together at their little breakfast, and pressed each + other to eat; but neither could eat. David's night excursion had filled + Eve with new misgivings. It was the act of a madman; and we know the fears + that beset her on that head, and their ground. He had come home shivering, + and she had forced him to keep his bed all that day. He was not well now, + and bodily weakness, added to his other afflictions, bore his spirit down, + though nothing could cow it. + </p> + <p> + “When are you to sail?” inquired Eve, sick-like. + </p> + <p> + “In three days. Cargo won't be on board before.” + </p> + <p> + “A coasting vessel?” + </p> + <p> + “A man can do his duty in a coaster as well as a merchantman or a + frigate.” But he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Would to God you had never seen her!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame her—blame me. I had good advice from my little sister, + but I was willful. Never mind, Eve, I needn't to blush for loving her; she + is worthy of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, think so, David, if you can.” And Eve, thoroughly depressed, + relapsed into silence. The postman's rap was heard, and soon after a long + inclosure was placed in Eve's hand. + </p> + <p> + Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she + opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect? She kept + uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence. And when she + had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large paper round to + David. “You are captain of the <i>Rajah!</i> ah! the new ship! ah! eleven + hundred tons! Oh, David! Oh, my heart! Oh! oh! oh!” and the poor little + thing clasped her arms round her brother's neck, and kissed him again and + again, and cried and sobbed for joy. + </p> + <p> + All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it is + to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve's pure and deep + affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much trouble and + sorrow. David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the sea and the wind + had never yet shaken him. He turned red and white alternately, and + trembled. “Captain of the <i>Rajah!</i> It is too good—it is too + good! I have done nothing <i>for it”;</i> and he was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + Eve was devouring the inclosure. “It is her doing,” she cried; “it is all + her doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose?” + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think? I am in the air! I am in heaven! Bless her—oh, + God, bless her for this. Never speak against cold-blooded folk before me; + they have twice the principle of us hot ones: I always said so. She is a + good creature; she is a true friend; and you accused her of ingratitude!” + </p> + <p> + “That I never did.” + </p> + <p> + “You did—<i>Rajah</i>—he! he! oh!—and I defended her. + Here, take and read that: is that a commission or not? Now you be quiet, + and let us see what she says. No, I can't; I cannot keep the tears out of + my eyes. Do take and read it, David; I'm blind.” + </p> + <p> + David took the letter, kissed it, and read it out to Eve, and she kept + crowing and shedding tears all the time. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS DODD—I admire too much your true affection for your + brother to be indifferent to your good opinion. Think of me as leniently + as you can. Perhaps it gives me as much pleasure to be able to forward you + the inclosed as the receipt of it, I hope, may give you. + </p> + <p> + “It would, I think, be more wise, and certainly more generous, not to let + Mr. Dodd think he owes in any degree to me that which, if the world were + just, would surely have been his long ago. Only, some few months hence, + when it can do him no harm, I could wish him not to think his friend Lucy + was ungrateful, or even cold in his service, who saved her life, and once + honored her with so warm an esteem. But all this I confide to your + discretion and your justice. Dear Miss Dodd, those who give pain to others + do not escape it themselves, nor is it just they should. My insensibility + to the merit of persons of the other sex has provoked my relatives; they + have punished me for declining Mr. Dodd's inferiors with a bitterness Mr. + Dodd, with far more cause, never showed me; so you see at each turn I am + reminded of his superiority. + </p> + <p> + “The result is, I am separated from my friends, and am living all alone + with my dear old nurse, at her farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + “Since, then, I am unhappy, and you are generous, you will, I think, + forgive me all the pain I have caused you, and will let me, in bidding you + adieu, subscribe myself, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yours affectionately, + + “LUCY FOUNTAIN” + </pre> + <p> + “It is the letter of a sweet girl, David, with a noble heart; and she has + taken a noble revenge of me for what I said to her the other day, and made + her cry, like a little brute as I am. Why, how glum you look!” + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” said David, “do you think I will accept this from her without + herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will. Don't be too greedy, David. Leave the girl in peace; + she has shown you what she will do and what she won't. One such friend as + this is worth a hundred lovers. Give me her dear little note.” + </p> + <p> + While Eve was persuing it, David went out, but soon returned, with his + best coat on, and his hat in his hand. Eve asked in some surprise where he + was going in such a hurry. + </p> + <p> + “To her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, David, now I come to read her letter quietly, it is a woman's + letter all over; you may read it which way you like. What need had she to + tell me she has just refused offers? And then she tells me she is all + alone. That sounds like a hint. The company of a friend might he + agreeable. Brush your coat first, at any rate; there's something white on + it; it is a paper; it is pinned on. Come here. Why, what is this? It is + written on. 'Adieu.'” And Eve opened her eyes and mouth as well. + </p> + <p> + She asked him when he wore the coat last. + </p> + <p> + “The day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you in company of any girls?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is written by a girl, and it is pinned on by a girl; see how it + is quilted in!! that's proof positive. Oh! oh! oh! look here. Look at + these two 'Adieus'—the one in the letter and this; they are the same—precisely + the same. What, in Heaven's name, is the meaning of this? Were you in her + company that night?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you swear that?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't swear it, because I was asleep a part of the time; but waking + in her company I was not.” + </p> + <p> + “It is her writing, and she pinned it on you.” + </p> + <p> + “How can that be, Eve?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I am sure she did, though. Look at this 'Adieu' and that; + you'll never get it out of my head but what one hand wrote them both. You + are so green, a girl would come behind you and pin it on you, and you + never feel her.” + </p> + <p> + While saying these words, Eve slyly repinned it on him without his feeling + or knowing anything about it. + </p> + <p> + David was impatient to be gone, but she held him a minute to advise him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her she must and shall. Don't take a denial. If you are cowardly, + she will be bold; but if you are bold and resolute, she will knuckle down. + Mind that; and don't go about it with such a face as that, as long as my + arm. If she says 'No,' you have got the ship to comfort you. Oh! I am so + happy!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Eve,” said David, “if she won't give me herself, I'll never take her + ship. I'd die a foretopman sooner;” and, with these parting words, he + renewed all his sister's anxiety. She sat down sorrowfully, and the + horrible idea gained on her that there was mania in David's love for Lucy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> + <p> + DAVID had one advantage over others that were now hunting Lucy. Mrs. + Wilson had unwittingly given him pretty plain directions how to find her + farmhouse; and as Eve, in the exercise of her discretion, or indiscretion, + had shown David Lucy's letter, he had only to ride to Harrowden and + inquire. But, on the other hand, his competitors were a few miles nearer + the game, and had a day's start. + </p> + <p> + David got a horse and galloped to Harrowden, fed him at the inn, and asked + where Mrs. Wilson's farm was. The waiter, a female, did not know, but + would inquire. Meantime David asked for two sheets of paper, and wrote a + few lines on each; then folded them both (in those days envelopes were + not), but did not seal them. Mrs. Wilson's farm turned out to be only two + miles from Harrowden, and the road easy to find. He was soon there; gave + his horse to one of the farm-boys, and went into the kitchen and asked if + Miss Fountain lived there. This question threw him into the hands of + Jenny, who invited him to follow her, and, unlike your powdered and + noiseless lackey, pounded the door with her fist, kicked it open with her + foot, and announced him with that thunderbolt of language which fell so + inopportunely on Lucy's self-congratulations. + </p> + <p> + The look Mrs. Wilson cast on Lucy was droll enough; but when David's + square shoulders and handsome face filled up the doorway, a second look + followed that spoke folios. + </p> + <p> + Lucy rose, and with heightened color, but admirable self-possession, + welcomed David like a valued friend. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson's greeting was broad and hearty; and, very soon after she had + made him sit down, she bounced up, crying: “You will stay dinner now you + be come, and I must see as they don't starve you.” So saying, out she + went; but, looking back at the door, was transfixed by an arrow of + reproach from her nursling's eye. + </p> + <p> + Lucy's reception of David, kind as it was, was not encouraging to one + coming on David's errand, for there was the wrong shade of amity in it. + </p> + <p> + In times past it would have cooled David with misgivings, but now he did + not give himself time to be discouraged; he came to make a last desperate + effort, and he made it at once. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lucy, I have got the <i>Rajah,</i> thanks to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to me, Mr. Dodd? Thanks to your own high character and merit.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss Lucy, you know better, and I know better, and there is your own + sweet handwriting to prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dodd has showed you my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “How could she help it?” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! how injudicious!” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is like the light; why keep it out? Yes; what I have worked + for, and battled the weather so many years, and been sober and prudent, + and a hard student at every idle hour—that has come to me in one + moment from your dear hand.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, Miss Lucy,” cried David, not noting the remark. + </p> + <p> + Lucy blushed, and the water stood in her eyes. She murmured softly: “You + should not say Miss Lucy; it is not customary. You should say Lucy, or + Miss Fountain.” + </p> + <p> + This <i>apropos</i> remark by way of a female diversion. + </p> + <p> + “Then let me say Lucy to-day, for perhaps I shall never say that, or + anything that is sweet to say again. Lucy, you know what I came for?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, to receive my congratulations.” + </p> + <p> + “More than that, a great deal—to ask you to go halves in the <i>Rajah.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Lucy's eyebrows demanded an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “She is worth two thousand a year to her commander; and that is too much + for a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy colored and smiled. “Why, it is only just enough for bachelors to + live upon.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too much for me alone under the circumstances,” said David, + gravely; and there was a little silence. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy, I love you. With you the <i>Rajah</i> would be a godsend. She will + help me keep you in the company you have been used to, and were made to + brighten and adorn; but without you I cannot take her from your hand, and, + to speak plain, I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Dodd!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Lucy; before I knew you, to command a ship was the height of my + ambition—her quarter-deck my Heaven on earth; and this is a clipper, + I own it; I saw her in the docks. But you have taught me to look higher. + Share my ship and my heart with me, and certainly the ship will be my + child, and all the dearer to me that she came to us from her I love. But + don't say to me, 'Me you shan't have; you are not good enough for that; + but there is a ship for you in my place.' I wouldn't accept a star out of + the firmament on those terms.” + </p> + <p> + “How unreasonable! On the contrary you should say, 'I am doubly fortunate: + I escape a foolish, weak companion for life, and I have a beautiful ship.' + But friendship such as mine for you was never appreciated; I do you + injustice; you only talk like that to tease me and make me unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lucy, Lucy, did you ever know me—” + </p> + <p> + “There, now, forgive me; and own you are not in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “This will show you,” said David, sadly; and he took out two letters from + his bosom. “Here are two letters to the secretary. In one I accept the + ship with thanks, and offer to superintend her when her rigging is being + set up; and in this one I decline her altogether, with my humble and + sincere thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, you are very humble, sir,” said Lucy. “Now—dear friend—listen + to reason. You have others—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse my interrupting you, but it is a rule with me never to reason + about right and wrong; I notice that whoever does that ends by choosing + wrong. I don't go to my head to find out my duty, I go to my heart; and + what little manhood there is in me all cries out against me compounding + with the woman I love, and taking a ship instead of her.” + </p> + <p> + “How unkind you are! It is not as if I was under no obligations to you. Is + not my life worth a ship? an angel like me?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see it so. It was a greater pleasure to me to save your life, as + you call it, than it could be to you. I can't let that into the account. A + woman is a woman, but a man is a man; and I will be under no obligation to + you but one.” + </p> + <p> + “What arrogance!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be angry; I'll love you and bless you all the same. But I am a + man, and a man I'll die, whether I die captain of a ship or of a foretop. + Poor Eve!” + </p> + <p> + “See how power tries people, and brings out their true character. Since + you commanded the <i>Rajah</i> you are all changed. You used to be + submissive; now you must have your own way entirely. You will fling my + poor ship in my face unless I give you—but this is really using + force—yes, Mr. Dodd, this is using force. Somebody has told you that + my sex yield when downright compulsion is used. It is true; and the more + ungenerous to apply it;” and she melted into a few placid tears. + </p> + <p> + David did not know this sign of yielding in a woman, and he groaned at the + sight and hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “Advise me what I had better do.” + </p> + <p> + To this singular proposal, David, listening to the ill advice of the fiend + Generosity, groaned out, “Why should you be tormented and made cry?” + </p> + <p> + “Why indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can change me; I advise you to cut it short.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you? very well. Why did you say 'poor Eve'?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, poor thing! she cried for joy when she read your letter, but when I + go back she will cry for grief;” and his voice faltered. + </p> + <p> + “I will cut this short, Mr. Dodd; give me that paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” + </p> + <p> + “The wicked one, where you refuse my <i>Rajah</i>.” + </p> + <p> + David hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You are no gentleman, sir, if you refuse a lady. Give it me this + instant,” cried Lucy, so haughtily and imperiously that David did not know + her, and gave her the letter with a half-cowed air. + </p> + <p> + She took it, and with both her supple white hands tore it with insulting + precision exactly in half. “There, sir and there, sir” (exactly in four); + “and there” (in eight, with malicious exactness); “and there”; and, though + it seemed impossible to effect another separation, yet the taper fingers + and a resolute will reduced it to tiny bits. She then made a gesture to + throw them in the fire, but thought better of it and held them. + </p> + <p> + David looked on, almost amused at this zealous demolition of a thing he + could so easily replace. He said, part sadly, part doggedly, part + apologetically, “I can write another.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will not. Oh, Mr. Dodd, don't you see?!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her eagerly. To his surprise, her haughty eagle look had + gone, and she seemed a pitying goddess, all tenderness and benignity; only + her mantling, burning cheek showed her to be woman. + </p> + <p> + She faltered, in answer to his wild, eager look. “Was I ever so rude + before? What right have I to tear your letter unless I—” + </p> + <p> + The characteristic full stop, and, above all, the heaving bosom, the + melting eye, and the red cheek, were enough even for poor simple David. + Heaven seemed to open on him. His burning kisses fell on the sweet hands + that had torn his death-warrant. No resistance. She blushed higher, but + smiled. His powerful arm curled round her. She looked a little scared, but + not much. He kissed her sweet cheek: the blush spread to her very forehead + at that, but no resistance. As the winged and rapid bird, if her feathers + be but touched with a speck of bird-lime, loses all power of flight, so it + seemed as if that one kiss, the first a stranger had ever pressed on + Lucy's virgin cheek, paralyzed her eel-like and evasive powers; under it + her whole supple frame seemed to yield as David drew her closer and closer + to him, till she hid her forehead and wet eyelashes on his shoulder, and + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “How could I let <i>you</i> be unhappy?!” + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke for a while. Each felt the other's heart beat; and David + drank that ecstasy of silent, delirious bliss which comes to great hearts + once in a life. + </p> + <p> + Had he not earned it? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> + <p> + By some mighty instinct Mrs. Wilson knew when to come in. She came to the + door just one minute after Lucy had capitulated, and, turning the handle, + but without opening the door, bawled some fresh directions to Jenny: this + was to enable Lucy to smooth her ruffled feathers, if necessary, and look + Agnes. But Lucy's actual contact with that honest heart seemed to have + made a change in her; instead of doing Agnes, she confronted (after a + fashion of her own) the situation she had so long evaded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nurse!” she cried, and wreathed her arms round her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry, my lamb! I can guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Cry? Oh no; I would not pay him so poor a compliment. It was to say, + 'Dear nurse, you must love Mr. Dodd as well as me now.'” + </p> + <p> + The dame received this indirect intelligence with hearty delight. + </p> + <p> + “That won't cost me much trouble,” said she. “He is the one I'd have + picked out of all England for my nursling. When a young man is kind to an + old woman, it is a good sign; but la! his face is enough for me: who ever + saw guile in such a face as that. Aren't ye hungry by this time? Dinner + will be ready in about a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse, can I speak to you a word?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sure.” + </p> + <p> + It was to inquire whether she would invite Miss Dodd. + </p> + <p> + “She loves her brother very dearly, and it is cruel to separate them. Mr. + Dodd will be nearly always here now, will he not?” + </p> + <p> + “You may take your davy of that.” + </p> + <p> + In a very few minutes a note was written, and Mrs. Wilson's eldest son, a + handsome young farmer, started in the covered cart with his mother's + orders “to bring the young lady willy-nilly.” + </p> + <p> + The holy allies both openly scouted Kenealy's advice, and both slyly + stepped down into the town and acted on it. Mr. Fountain then returned to + Font Abbey. Their two advertisements appeared side by side, and + exasperated them. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Mrs. Wilson sent Lucy and David out to take a walk. At the + gate they met with a little interruption; a carriage drove up; the + coachman touched his hat, and Mrs. Bazalgette put her head out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + “I came to take you back, love.” + </p> + <p> + David quaked. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, aunt; but it is not worth while now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mrs. Bazalgette, casting a venomous look on David; “I am too + late, am I? Poor girl!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy soothed her aunt with the information that she was much happier now + than she had been for a long time past. For this was a fencing-match. + </p> + <p> + “May I have a word in private with my niece?” inquired Mrs. Bazalgette, + bitterly, of David. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said David stoutly; but his heart turned sick as he retired. + Lucy saw the look of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “you left me because you are averse to + matrimony, and I urged you to it; of course, with those sentiments, you + have no idea of marrying that man there. I don't suspect you of such + hypocrisy, and therefore I say come home with me, and you shall marry + nobody; your inclination shall be free as air.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt,” said Lucy, demurely, “why didn't you come yesterday? I always said + those who love me best would find me first, and you let Mr. Dodd come + first. I am so sorry!” + </p> + <p> + “Then your pretended aversion to marriage was all hypocrisy, was it?” + </p> + <p> + Lucy informed her that marriage was a contract, and the contracting + parties two, and no more—the bride and bridegroom; and that to sign + a contract without reading it is silly, and meaning not to keep it is + wicked. “So,” said she, “I read the contract over in the prayer-book this + morning, for fear of accidents.” + </p> + <p> + My reader may, perhaps, be amused at this admission; but Mrs. Bazalgette + was disgusted, and inquired, “What stuff is the girl talking now?” + </p> + <p> + “It is called common sense. Well, I find the contract is one I can carry + out with Mr. Dodd, and with nobody else. I can love him a little, can + honor him a great deal, and obey him entirely. I begin now. There he is; + and if you feel you cannot show him the courtesy of making him one in our + conversation, permit me to retire and relieve his solitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty fine; and if you don't instantly leave him and come home, you + shall never enter my house again.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless sickness or trouble should visit your house, and then you will + send for me, and I shall come.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette (to the coachman).—“Home!” + </p> + <p> + Lucy made her a polite obeisance, to keep up appearances before the + servants and the farm-people, who were gaping. She, whose breeding was + inferior, flounced into a corner without returning it. The carriage drove + off. + </p> + <p> + David inquired with great anxiety whether something had not been said to + vex her. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” replied Lucy, calmly. “Little things and little people + can no longer vex me. I have great duties to think of and a great heart to + share them with me. Let us walk toward Harrowden; we may perhaps meet a + friend.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, just on this side Harrowden they met the covered cart, and + Eve in it, radiant with unexpected delight. The engaged ones—for + such they had become in those two miles—mounted the cart, and the + two men sat in front, and Eve and Lucy intertwined at the back, and opened + their hearts to each other. + </p> + <p> + Eve. And you have taken the paper off again? + </p> + <p> + Lucy. What paper? It was no longer applicable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> + <p> + I HAVE already noticed that Lucy, after capitulation, laid down her arms + gracefully and sensibly. When she was asked to name a very early day for + the wedding, she opposed no childish delay to David's happiness, for the + <i>Rajah</i> was to sail in six weeks and separate them. So the license + was got, and the wedding-day came; and all Lucy's previous study of the + contract did not prevent her from being deeply affected by the solemn + words that joined her to David in holy matrimony. + </p> + <p> + She bore up, though, stoutly; for her sense of propriety and courtesy + forbade her to cloud a festivity. But, when the post-chaise came to convey + bride and bridegroom on their little tour, and she had to leave Mrs. + Wilson and Eve for a whole week, the tears would not be denied; and, to + show how perilous a road matrimony is, these two risked a misunderstanding + on their wedding-day, thus: Lucy, all alone in the post-chaise with David, + dissolved—a perfect Niobe—gushing at short intervals. + Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears: “Poor Eve! her + dear little face was working so not to cry. Oh! oh! I should not have + minded so much if she had cried right out.” Then, again, it was “Poor Mrs. + Wilson! I was only a week with her, for all her love. I have made a c—at's + p—paw of her—oh!” + </p> + <p> + Then, again, “Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us; he thinks me a h—h—ypocrite.” + But quite as often they flowed without any accompanying reason. + </p> + <p> + Now if David had been a poetaster, he would have said: “Why these tears? + she has got me. Am I not more than an equivalent to these puny + considerations?” and all this salt water would have burned into his vanity + like liquid caustic. If he had been a poet, he would have said: “Alas! I + make her unhappy whom I hoped to make happy”; and with this he would have + been sad, and so prolonged her sadness, and perhaps ended by sulking. But + David had two good things—a kind heart and a skin not too thin: and + such are the men that make women happy, in spite of their weak nerves and + craven spirits. + </p> + <p> + He gave her time; soothed her kindly; but did not check her weakness dead + short. + </p> + <p> + At last my Lady Chesterfield said to him, penitently, “This is a poor + compliment to you, Mr. Dodd”; and then Niobized again, partly, I believe, + with regret that she was behaving so discourteously. + </p> + <p> + “It is very natural,” said David, kindly, “but we shall soon see them all + again, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Presently she looked in his radiant face, with wet eyes, but a half-smile. + “You amaze me; you don't seem the least terrified at what we have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit,” cried David, like a cheerful horn: “I have been in worse + peril than this, and so have you. Our troubles are all over; I see nothing + but happiness ahead.” He then drew a sunny picture of their future life, + to all which she listened demurely; and, in short, he treated her little + feminine distress as the summer sun treats a mist that tries to vie with + it. He soon dried her up, and when they reached their journey's end she + was as bright as himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. + </h2> + <p> + THEY had been married a week. A slight change, but quite distinct to an + observer of her sex, bloomed in Lucy's face and manner. A new beauty was + in her face—the blossom of wifehood. Her eyes, though not less + modest, were less timid than before; and now they often met David's full, + and seemed to sip affection at them. When he came near her, her lovely + frame showed itself conscious of his approach. His queen, though he did + not know it, was his vassal. They sat at table at a little inn, twenty + miles from Harrowden, for they were on their return to Mrs. Wilson. Lucy + went to the window while David settled the bill. At the window it is + probable she had her own thoughts, for she glided up behind David, and, + fanning his hair with her cool, honeyed breath, she said, in the tone of a + humble inquirer seeking historical or antiquarian information, “I want to + ask you a question, David: are you happy <i>too?”</i> + </p> + <p> + David answered promptly, but inarticulately; so his reply is lost to + posterity. Conjecture alone survives. + </p> + <p> + One disappointment awaited Lucy at Mrs. Wilson's. There were several + letters for both David and her, but none from Mr. Bazalgette. She knew by + that she had lost his respect. She could not blame him, for she saw how + like disingenuousness and hypocrisy her conduct must look to him. “I must + trust to time and opportunity,” she said, with a sigh. She proposed to + David to read all her letters, and she would read all his. He thought this + a droll idea; but nothing that identified him with his royal vassal came + amiss. The first letter of Lucy's that David opened was from Mr. Talboys. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MADAM—I have heard of your marriage with Mr. Dodd, and desire + to offer both you and him my cordial congratulations. + </p> + <p> + “I feel under considerable obligation to Mr. Dodd; and, should my house + ever have a mistress, I hope she will be able to tempt you both to renew + our acquaintance under my roof, and so give me once more that opportunity + I have too little improved of showing you both the sincere respect and + gratitude with which I am, + </p> + <p> + “Your very faithful servant, + </p> + <h3> + “REGINALD TALBOYS.” + </h3> + <p> + Lucy was delighted with this note. “Who says it was nothing to have been + born a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + The second letter was from Reginald No. 2; and, if I only give the reader + a fragment of it, I still expect his gratitude, all one as if I had + disinterred a fragment of Orpheus or Tiresias. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear lucy. + It is very ungust of you to go and + Mary other peeple wen you + Promised me. but it is mr. dod. + So i dont so much mind i like + Mr. dod. he is a duc. and they all + Say i am too litle and jane says + Sailors always end by been + Drouned so it is only put off. + But you reely must keep your + Promise to me. wen i am biger + And mr. Dod is drouned. my + Ginny pigs— +</pre> + <p> + Here a white hand drew the pleasing composition out of David's hand, and + dropped it on the floor; two piteous, tearful eyes were bent on him, and a + white arm went tenderly round his neck to save him from the threatened + fate. + </p> + <p> + At this sight Eve pounced on the horrid scroll, and hurled it, with + general acclamation, into the flames. + </p> + <p> + Thus that sweet infant revenged himself, and, like Sampson, hit hardest of + all at parting—in tears and flame vanished from written fiction, + and, I conclude, went back to Gavarni. + </p> + <p> + There was a letter from Mr. Fountain—all fire and fury. She was + never to write or speak to him any more. He was now looking out for a + youth of good family to adopt and to make a Fontaine of by act of + Parliament, etc., etc. A fusillade of written thunderbolts. + </p> + <p> + There was another from Mrs. Bazalgette, written with cream—of tartar + and oil—of vitriol. She forgave her niece and wished her every + happiness it was possible for a young person to enjoy who had deceived her + relations and married beneath her. She felt pity rather than anger; and + there was no reason why Mr. and Mrs. Dodd should not visit her house, as + far as she was concerned; but Mr. Bazalgette was a man of very stern + rectitude, and, as she could not make sure that he would treat them with + common courtesy after what had passed, she thought a temporary separation + might be the better course for all parties. + </p> + <p> + I may as well take this opportunity of saying that these two egotists + carried out the promise of their respective letters. Mr. Fountain + blustered for a year or two, and then showed manifest signs of relenting. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bazalgette kept cool, and wrote, in oils, twice a year to Mrs. Dodd: + </p> + <h3> + “ET GARDAIT TOUT DOUCEMENT UNE HAINE IRRECONCILIABLE.” + </h3> + <p> + Lucy had to answer these letters. In signing one of them, she took a look + at her new signature and smiled. “What a dear, quaint little name mine + is!” said she. “Lucy Dodd;” and she kissed the signature. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Month after Marriage. +</pre> + <p> + The Dodds took a house in London and Eve came up to them. David was nearly + all day superintending the ship, but spent the whole evening with his wife + at home. Zeal always produces irritation. The servant that is anxious for + his employer's interest is sure to get into a passion or two with the + deadness, indifference and heartless injustice of the genuine hireling. So + David was often irritated and worried, and in hot water, while + superintending the <i>Rajah,</i> but the moment he saw his own door, away + he threw it all, and came into the house like a jocund sunbeam. Nothing + wins a woman more than this, provided she is already inclined in the man's + favor. As the hour that brought David approached, Lucy's spirits and Eve's + used both to rise by anticipation, and that anticipation his hearty, + genial temper never disappointed. + </p> + <p> + One day Lucy came to David for information. “David, there is a singular + change in me. It is since we came to London. I used to be a placid girl; + now I am a fidget.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see it, love.” + </p> + <p> + “No; how should you, dear? It always goes away when you come. Now listen. + When five o'clock comes near, I turn hot and restless, and can hardly keep + from the window; and if you are five minutes after your time, I really + cannot keep from the window; and my nerves <i>se crispent,</i> and I + cannot sit still. It is very foolish. What does it mean? Can you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can. I am just the same when people are unpunctual. It is + inexcusable, and nothing is so vexing. I ought to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh David, what nonsense! it is not that. Could I ever be vexed with my + David?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, there is Eve; we'll ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dare, sir!” and Mrs. Dodd was carnation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Four years after the above events +</pre> + <p> + Two ladies were gossiping. + </p> + <p> + 1st Lady. “What I like about Mrs. Dodd is that she is so truthful.” + </p> + <p> + 2d Lady. “Oh, is she?” + </p> + <p> + 1st Lady. “Yes, she is indeed. Certainly she is not a woman that blurts + out unpleasant things without any necessity; she is kind and considerate + in word and deed, but she is always true. She has got an eye that meets + you like a little lion's eye, and a tongue without guile. I do love Mrs. + Dodd dearly.” + </p> + <p> + Two Qui his were talking in Leadenhall Street. + </p> + <p> + 1st Qui hi. “Well, so you are going out again.” + </p> + <p> + 2d Qui hi. “Yes; they have offered me a commissionership. I must make + another lac for the children.” + </p> + <p> + 1st Qui hi. “When do you sail?” + </p> + <p> + 2d Qui hi. “By the first good ship. I should like a good ship.” + </p> + <p> + 1st Qui hi. “Well, then, you had better go out with Gentleman Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + 2d Qui hi. “Gentleman Dodd? I should prefer Sailor Dodd. I don't want to + founder off the Cape.” + </p> + <p> + 1st Qui hi. “Oh, but this is a first-rate sailor, and a first-rate fellow + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + 2d Qui hi. “Then why do you call him 'Gentleman Dodd'?” + </p> + <p> + 1st Qui hi. “Oh, because he is so polite. He won't stand an oath within + hearing of his quarter-deck, and is particularly kind and courteous to the + passengers, especially to the ladies. His ship is always full.” + </p> + <p> + 2d Qui hi. “Is it? Then I'll go out with 'Gentleman Dodd.'” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ——————— +</pre> + <h3> + TO MY MALE READERS. + </h3> + <p> + I SEE with some surprise that there still linger in the field of letters + writers who think that, in fiction, when a personage speaks with an air of + conviction, the sentiments must be the author's own. (When two of his + personages give each other the lie, which represents the author? both?) + </p> + <p> + I must ask you to shun this error; for instance, do not go and take Eve + Dodd's opinion of my heroine, or Mrs. Bazalgette's, for mine. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dodd, in particular, however epigrammatic she may appear, is shallow: + her criticism <i>peche par la base.</i> She talks too much as if young + girls were in the habit of looking into their own minds, like little + metaphysicians, and knowing all that goes on there; but, on the contrary, + this is just what women in general don't do, and young women can't do. + </p> + <p> + No male will quite understand Lucy Fountain who does not take “instinct” + and “self-deception” into the account. But with those two dews and your + own intelligence, you cannot fail to unravel her, and will, I hope, thank + me in your hearts for leaving you something to study, and not clogging my + sluggish narrative with a mass of comment and explanation. + </p> + <p> + The End. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG *** + +***** This file should be named 4607-h.htm or 4607-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/6/0/4607/ + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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