JOHN HALIFAX GENTLEMAN
by
Dinah Maria Mulock Mrs Craik
CHAPTER I
Get out o Mr Fletchers road ye idle lounging little—
Vagabond I think the woman Sally Watkins once my nurse was going to say but she changed her mind
My father and I both glanced round surprised at her unusual reticence of epithets but when the lad addressed turned fixed his eyes on each of us for a moment and made way for us we ceased to wonder Ragged muddy and miserable as he was the poor boy looked anything but a vagabond
Thee need not go into the wet my lad Keep close to the wall and there will be shelter enough both for us and thee said my father as he pulled my little handcarriage into the alley under cover from the pelting rain The lad with a grateful look put out a hand likewise and pushed me further in A strong hand it was—roughened and browned with labour—though he was scarcely as old as I What would I not have given to have been so stalwart and so tall
Sally called from her housedoor Wouldnt Master Phineas come in and sit by the fire a bit—But it was always a trouble to me to move or walk and I liked staying at the mouth of the alley watching the autumnal shower come sweeping down the street besides I wanted to look again at the strangerlad
He had scarcely stirred but remained leaning against the wall—either through weariness or in order to be out of our way He took little or no notice of us but kept his eyes fixed on the pavement—for we actually boasted pavement in the High Street of our town of Norton Bury—watching the eddying raindrops which each as it fell threw up a little mist of spray It was a serious haggard face for a boy of only fourteen or so Let me call it up before me—I can easily even after more than fifty years
Brown eyes deepsunken with stronglymarked brows a nose like most other Saxon noses nothing particular lips wellshaped lying one upon the other firm and close a square sharply outlined resolute chin of that type which gives character and determination to the whole physiognomy and without which in the fairest features as in the best dispositions one is always conscious of a certain want
As I have stated in person the lad was tall and stronglybuilt and I poor puny wretch so reverenced physical strength Everything in him seemed to indicate that which I had not his muscular limbs his square broad shoulders his healthy cheek though it was sharp and thin—even to his crisp curls of bright thick hair
Thus he stood principal figure in a picture which is even yet as clear to me as yesterday—the narrow dirty alley leading out of the High Street yet showing a glimmer of green field at the further end the open housedoors on either side through which came the drowsy burr of many a stockingloom the prattle of children paddling in the gutter and sailing thereon a fleet of potato parings In front the High Street with the mayors house opposite porticoed and grand and beyond just where the rainclouds were breaking rose up out of a nest of trees the square tower of our ancient abbey—Norton Burys boast and pride On it from a break in the clouds came a sudden stream of light The strangerlad lifted up his head to look at it
The rain will be over soon I said but doubted if he heard me What could he be thinking of so intently—a poor working lad whom few would have given credit for thinking at all
I do not suppose my father cast a second glance or thought on the boy whom from a sense of common justice he had made take shelter beside us In truth worthy man he had no lack of matter to occupy his mind being sole architect of a long uphill but now thriving trade I saw by the hardening of his features and the restless way in which he poked his stick into the little waterpools that he was longing to be in his tanyard close by
He pulled out his great silver watch—the dread of our house for it was a watch which seemed to imbibe something of its masters character remorseless as justice or fate it never erred a moment
Twentythree minutes lost by this shower Phineas my son how am I to get thee safe home unless thee wilt go with me to the tanyard—
I shook my head It was very hard for Abel Fletcher to have for his only child such a sickly creature as I now at sixteen as helpless and useless to him as a baby
Well well I must find some one to go home with thee For though my father had got me a sort of carriage in which with a little external aid I could propel myself so as to be his companion occasionally in his walks between our house the tanyard and the Friends meetinghouse—still he never trusted me anywhere alone Here Sally—Sally Watkins do any o thy lads want to earn an honest penny
Sally was out of earshot but I noticed that as the lad near us heard my fathers words the colour rushed over his face and he started forward involuntarily I had not before perceived how wasted and hungrylooking he was
Father I whispered But here the boy had mustered up his courage and voice
Sir I want work may I earn a penny
He spoke in tolerably good English—different from our coarse broad G——shire drawl and taking off his tattered old cap looked right up into my fathers face The old man scanned him closely
What is thy name lad
John Halifax
Where dost thee come from
Cornwall
Hast thee any parents living
No
I wished my father would not question thus but possibly he had his own motives which were rarely harsh though his actions often appeared so
How old might thee be John Halifax
Fourteen sir
Thee art used to work
Yes
What sort of work
Anything that I can get to do
I listened nervously to this catechism which went on behind my back
Well said my father after a pause thee shall take my son home and Ill give thee a groat Let me see art thee a lad to be trusted And holding him at arms length regarding him meanwhile with eyes that were the terror of all the rogues in Norton Bury Abel Fletcher jingled temptingly the silver money in the pockets of his longflapped brown waistcoat I say art thee a lad to be trusted
John Halifax neither answered nor declined his eyes He seemed to feel that this was a critical moment and to have gathered all his mental forces into a serried square to meet the attack He met it and conquered in silence
Lad shall I give thee the groat now
Not till Ive earned it sir
So drawing his hand back my father slipped the money into mine and left us
I followed him with my eyes as he went sturdily plashing down the street his broad comfortable back which owned a coat of true Quaker cut but spotless warm and fine his ribbed hose and leathern gaiters and the widebrimmed hat set over a fringe of grey hairs that crowned the whole with respectable dignity He looked precisely what he was—an honest honourable prosperous tradesman I watched him down the street—my good father whom I respected perhaps even more than I loved him The Cornish lad watched him likewise
It still rained slightly so we remained under cover John Halifax leaned in his old place and did not attempt to talk Once only when the draught through the alley made me shiver he pulled my cloak round me carefully
You are not very strong Im afraid
No
Then he stood idly looking up at the opposite—the mayors—house with its steps and portico and its fourteen windows one of which was open and a cluster of little heads visible there
The mayors children—I knew them all by sight though nothing more for their father was a lawyer and mine a tanner they belonged to Abbey folk and orthodoxy I to the Society of Friends—the mayors rosy children seemed greatly amused by watching us shivering shelterers from the rain Doubtless our position made their own appear all the pleasanter For myself it mattered little but for this poor desolate homeless wayfaring lad to stand in sight of their merry nursery window and hear the clatter of voices and of not unwelcome dinnersounds—I wondered how he felt it
Just at this minute another head came to the window a somewhat older child I had met her with the rest she was only a visitor She looked at us then disappeared Soon after we saw the front door half opened and an evident struggle taking place behind it we even heard loud words across the narrow street
I will—I say I will
You shant Miss Ursula
But I will
And there stood the little girl with a loaf in one hand and a carvingknife in the other She succeeded in cutting off a large slice and holding it out
Take it poor boy—you look so hungry Do take it But the servant forced her in and the door was shut upon a sharp cry
It made John Halifax start and look up at the nursery window which was likewise closed We heard nothing more After a minute he crossed the street and picked up the slice of bread Now in those days bread was precious exceedingly The poor folk rarely got it they lived on rye or meal John Halifax had probably not tasted wheaten bread like this for months it appeared not he eyed it so ravenously—then glancing towards the shut door his mind seemed to change He was a long time before he ate a morsel when he did so it was quietly and slowly looking very thoughtful all the while
As soon as the rain ceased we took our way home down the High Street towards the Abbey church—he guiding my carriage along in silence I wished he would talk and let me hear again his pleasant Cornish accent
How strong you are said I sighing when with a sudden pull he had saved me from being overturned by a horseman riding past—young Mr Brithwood of the Mythe House who never cared where he galloped or whom he hurt—So tall and so strong
Am I Well I shall want my strength
How
To earn my living
He drew up his broad shoulders and planted on the pavement a firmer foot as if he knew he had the world before him—would meet it singlehanded and without fear
What have you worked at lately
Anything I could get for I have never learned a trade
Would you like to learn one
He hesitated a minute as if weighing his speech Once I thought I should like to be what my father was
What was he
A scholar and a gentleman
This was news though it did not much surprise me My father tanner as he was and pertinaciously jealous of the dignity of trade yet held strongly the commonsense doctrine of the advantages of good descent at least in degree For since it is a law of nature admitting only rare exceptions that the qualities of the ancestors should be transmitted to the race—the fact seems patent enough that even allowing equal advantages a gentlemans son has more chances of growing up a gentleman than the son of a working man And though he himself and his father before him had both been working men still I think Abel Fletcher never forgot that we originally came of a good stock and that it pleased him to call me his only son after one of our forefathers not unknown—Phineas Fletcher who wrote the Purple Island
Thus it seemed to me and I doubted not it would to my father much more reasonable and natural that a boy like John Halifax—in whom from every word he said I detected a mind and breeding above his outward condition—should come of gentle than of boorish blood
Then perhaps I said resuming the conversation you would not like to follow a trade
Yes I should What would it matter to me My father was a gentleman
And your mother
And he turned suddenly round his cheeks hot his lips quivering She is dead I do not like to hear strangers speak about my mother
I asked his pardon It was plain he had loved and mourned her and that circumstances had smothered down his quick boyish feelings into a mans tenacity of betraying where he had loved and mourned I only a few minutes after said something about wishing we were not strangers
Do you The lads half amazed halfgrateful smile went right to my heart
Have you been up and down the country much
A great deal—these last three years doing a hands turn as best I could in hoppicking applegathering harvesting only this summer I had typhus fever and could not work
What did you do then
I lay in a barn till I got well—Im quite well now you need not be afraid
No indeed I had never thought of that
We soon became quite sociable together He guided me carefully out of the town into the Abbey walk flecked with sunshine through overhanging trees Once he stopped to pick up for me the large brown fan of a horsechestnut leaf
Its pretty isnt it—only it shows that autumn is come
And how shall you live in the winter when there is no outofdoor work to be had
I dont know
The lads countenance fell and that hungry weary look which had vanished while we talked returned more painfully than ever I reproached myself for having under the influence of his merry talk temporarily forgotten it
Ah I cried eagerly when we left the shade of the Abbey trees and crossed the street here we are at home
Are you The homeless lad just glanced at it—the flight of spotless stonesteps guarded by ponderous railings which led to my fathers respectable and handsome door Good day then—which means goodbye
I started The word pained me On my sad lonely life—brief indeed though ill health seemed to have doubled and trebled my sixteen years into a mournful maturity—this lads face had come like a flash of sunshine a reflection of the merry boyhood the youth and strength that never were never could be mine To let it go from me was like going back into the dark
Not goodbye just yet said I trying painfully to disengage myself from my little carriage and mount the steps John Halifax came to my aid
Suppose you let me carry you I could—and—and it would be great fun you know
He tried to turn it into a jest so as not to hurt me but the tremble in his voice was as tender as any womans—tenderer than any womans I ever was used to hear I put my arms round his neck he lifted me safely and carefully and set me at my own door Then with another goodbye he again turned to go
My heart cried after him with an irrepressible cry What I said I do not remember but it caused him to return
Is there anything more I can do for you sir
Dont call me sir I am only a boy like yourself I want you dont go yet Ah here comes my father
John Halifax stood aside and touched his cap with a respectful deference as the old man passed
So here thee be—hast thou taken care of my son Did he give thee thy groat my lad
We had neither of us once thought of the money
When I acknowledged this my father laughed called John an honest lad and began searching in his pocket for some larger coin I ventured to draw his ear down and whispered something—but I got no answer meanwhile John Halifax for the third time was going away
Stop lad—I forget thy name—here is thy groat and a shilling added for being kind to my son
Thank you but I dont want payment for kindness
He kept the groat and put back the shilling into my fathers hand
Eh said the old man much astonished theert an odd lad but I cant stay talking with thee Come in to dinner Phineas I say turning back to John Halifax with a sudden thought art thee hungry
Very hungry Nature gave way at last and great tears came into the poor lads eyes Nearly starving
Bless me then get in and have thy dinner But first— and my inexorable father held him by the shoulder thee art a decent lad come of decent parents
Yes almost indignantly
Thee works for thy living
I do whenever I can get it
Thee hast never been in gaol
No thundered out the lad with a furious look I dont want your dinner sir I would have stayed because your son asked me and he was civil to me and I liked him Now I think I had better go Good day sir
There is a verse in a very old Book—even in its human histories the most pathetic of all books—which runs thus
And it came to pass when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul that the soul of Jonathan was knit unto the soul of David and Jonathan loved him as his own soul
And this day I a poorer and more helpless Jonathan had found my David
I caught him by the hand and would not let him go
There get in lads—make no more ado said Abel Fletcher sharply as he disappeared
So still holding my David fast I brought him into my fathers house
CHAPTER II
Dinner was over my father and I took ours in the large parlour where the stiff highbacked chairs eyed one another in opposite rows across the wide oaken floor shiny and hard as marble and slippery as glass Except the table the sideboard and the cuckoo clock there was no other furniture
I dared not bring the poor wandering lad into this my fathers especial domain but as soon as he was away in the tanyard I sent for John
Jael brought him in Jael the only womankind we ever had about us and who save to me when I happened to be very ill certainly gave no indication of her sex in its softness and tenderness There had evidently been wrath in the kitchen
Phineas the lad ha got his dinner and you mustnt keep un long I beant going to let you knock yourself up with looking after a beggarboy
A beggarboy The idea seemed so ludicrous that I could not help smiling at it as I regarded him He had washed his face and combed out his fair curls though his clothes were threadbare all but ragged they were not unclean and there was a rosy healthy freshness in his tanned skin which showed he loved and delighted in what poor folk generally abominate—water And now the sickness of hunger had gone from his face the lad if not actually what our scriptural Saxon terms wellfavoured was certainly wellliking A beggarboy indeed I hoped he had not heard Jaels remark But he had
Madam said he with a bow of perfect goodhumour and even some sly drollery you mistake I never begged in my life Im a person of independent property which consists of my head and my two hands out of which I hope to realise a large capital some day
I laughed Jael retired abundantly mystified and rather cross John Halifax came to my easy chair and in an altered tone asked me how I felt and if he could do anything for me before he went away
Youll not go away not till my father comes home at least For I had been revolving many plans which had one sole aim and object to keep near me this lad whose companionship and help seemed to me brotherless sisterless and friendless as I was the very thing that would give me an interest in life or at least make it drag on less wearily To say that what I projected was done out of charity or pity would not be true it was simple selfishness if that be selfishness which makes one leap towards and cling to a possible strength and good which I conclude to be the secret of all those sudden likings that spring more from instinct than reason I do not attempt to account for mine I know not why the soul of Jonathan clave to the soul of David I only know that it was so and that the first day I beheld the lad John Halifax I Phineas Fletcher loved him as my own soul
Thus my entreaty Youll not go away was so earnest that it apparently touched the friendless boy to the core
Thank you he said in an unsteady voice as leaning against the fireplace he drew his hand backwards and forwards across his face you are very kind Ill stay an hour or so if you wish it
Then come and sit down here and let us have a talk
What this talk was I cannot now recall save that it ranged over many and wide themes such as boys delight in—chiefly of life and adventure He knew nothing of my only world—books
Can you read he asked me at last suddenly
I should rather think so And I could not help smiling being somewhat proud of my erudition
And write
Oh yes certainly
He thought a minute and then said in a low tone I cant write and I dont know when I shall be able to learn I wish you would put down something in a book for me
That I will
He took out of his pocket a little case of leather with an under one of black silk within this again was a book He would not let it go out of his hands but held it so that I could see the leaves It was a Greek Testament
Look here
He pointed to the flyleaf and I read
Guy Halifax his Book
Guy Halifax gentleman married Muriel Joyce spinster May 17 in the year of our Lord 1779
John Halifax their son born June 18 1780
There was one more entry in a feeble illiterate female hand Guy Halifax died January 4 1781
What shall I write John said I after a minute or so of silence
Ill tell you presently Can I get you a pen
He leaned on my shoulder with his left hand but his right never once let go of the precious book
Write—Muriel Halifax died January 1 1791
Nothing more
Nothing more
He looked at the writing for a minute or two dried it carefully by the fire replaced the book in its two cases and put it into his pocket He said no other word but Thank you and I asked him no questions
This was all I ever heard of the boys parentage nor do I believe he knew more himself He was indebted to no forefathers for a family history the chronicle commenced with himself and was altogether his own making No romantic antecedents ever turned up his lineage remained uninvestigated and his pedigree began and ended with his own honest name—John Halifax
Jael kept coming in and out of the parlour on divers excuses eyeing very suspiciously John Halifax and me especially when she heard me laughing—a rare and notable fact—for mirth was not the fashion in our house nor the tendency of my own nature Now this young lad hardly as the world had knocked him about even already had an overflowing spirit of quiet drollery and healthy humour which was to me an inexpressible relief It gave me something I did not possess—something entirely new I could not look at the dancing brown eyes at the quaint dimples of lurking fun that played hideandseek under the firmset mouth without feeling my heart cheered and delighted like one brought out of a murky chamber into the open day
But all this was highly objectionable to Jael
Phineas—and she planted herself before me at the end of the table—its a fine sunshiny day thee ought to be out
I have been out thank you Jael And John and I went on talking
Phineas—a second and more determined attack—too much laughing beant good for thee and its time this lad were going about his own business
Hush—nonsense Jael
No—shes right said John Halifax rising while that look of premature gravity learned doubtless out of hard experience chased all the boyish fun from his face Ive had a merry day—thank you kindly for it and now Ill be gone
Gone It was not to be thought of—at least not till my father came home For now more determinedly than ever the plan which I had just ventured to hint at to my father fixed itself on my mind Surely he would not refuse me—me his sickly boy whose life had in it so little pleasure
Why do you want to go You have no work
No I wish I had But Ill get some
How
Just by trying everything that comes to hand Thats the only way I never wanted bread nor begged it yet—though Ive often been rather hungry And as for clothes—he looked down on his own light and threadbare here and there almost burst into holes by the stout muscles of the big growing boy—looked rather disconsolately Im afraid SHE would be sorry—thats all She always kept me so tidy
By the way he spoke SHE must have meant his mother There the orphan lad had an advantage over me alas I did not remember mine
Come I said for now I had quite made up my mind to take no denial and fear no rebuff from my father cheer up Who knows what may turn up
Oh yes something always does Im not afraid He tossed back his curls and looked smiling out through the window at the blue sky that steady brave honest smile which will meet Fate in every turn and fairly coax the jade into good humour
John do you know youre uncommonly like a childish hero of mine—Dick Whittington Did you ever hear of him
No
Come into the garden then—for I caught another ominous vision of Jael in the doorway and I did not want to vex my good old nurse besides unlike John I was anything but brave Youll hear the Abbey bells chime presently—not unlike Bow bells I used to fancy sometimes and well lie on the grass and Ill tell you the whole true and particular story of Sir Richard Whittington
I lifted myself and began looking for my crutches John found and put them into my hand with a grave pitiful look
You dont need those sort of things I said making pretence to laugh for I had not grown used to them and felt often ashamed
I hope you will not need them always
Perhaps not—Dr Jessop isnt sure But it doesnt matter much most likely I shant live long For this was God forgive me always the last and greatest comfort I had
John looked at me—surprised troubled compassionate—but he did not say a word I hobbled past him he following through the long passage to the garden door There I paused—tired out John Halifax took gentle hold of my shoulder
I think if you did not mind Im sure I could carry you I carried a mealsack once weighing eight stone
I burst out laughing which maybe was what he wanted and forthwith consented to assume the place of the mealsack He took me on his back—what a strong fellow he was—and fairly trotted with me down the garden walk We were both very merry and though I was his senior I seemed with him out of my great weakness and infirmity to feel almost like a child
Please to take me to that clematis arbour it looks over the Avon Now how do you like our garden
Its a nice place
He did not go into ecstasies as I had half expected but gazed about him observantly while a quiet intense satisfaction grew and diffused itself over his whole countenance
Its a VERY nice place
Certainly it was A large square chiefly grass level as a bowlinggreen with borders round Beyond divided by a low hedge was the kitchen and fruit garden—my fathers pride as this oldfashioned pleasaunce was mine When years ago I was too weak to walk I knew by crawling every inch of the soft green mossy daisypatterned carpet bounded by its broad gravel walk and above that apparently shut in as with an impassable barrier from the outer world by a threesided fence the high wall the yewhedge and the river
John Halifaxs comprehensive gaze seemed to take in all
Have you lived here long he asked me
Ever since I was born
Ah—well its a nice place he repeated somewhat sadly This grass plot is very even—thirty yards square I should guess Id get up and pace it only Im rather tired
Are you Yet you would carry—
Oh—thats nothing Ive often walked farther than today But still its a good step across the country since morning
How far have you come
From the foot of those hills—I forget what they call them—over there I have seen bigger ones—but theyre steep enough—bleak and cold too especially when one is lying out among the sheep At a distance they look pleasant This is a very pretty view
Ay so I had always thought it more so than ever now when I had some one to say to how very pretty it was Let me describe it—this first landscape the sole picture of my boyish days and vivid as all such pictures are
At the end of the arbour the wall which enclosed us on the riverward side was cut down—my father had done it at my asking—so as to make a seat something after the fashion of Queen Marys seat at Stirling of which I had read Thence one could see a goodly sweep of country First close below flowed the Avon—Shakspeares Avon—here a narrow sluggish stream but capable as we at Norton Bury sometimes knew to our cost of being roused into fierceness and foam Now it slipped on quietly enough contenting itself with turning a flourmill hard by the lazy whirr of which made a sleepy incessant monotone which I was fond of hearing
From the opposite bank stretched a wide green level called the Ham—dotted with pasturing cattle of all sorts Beyond it was a second river forming an arch of a circle round the verdant flat But the stream itself lay so low as to be invisible from where we sat you could only trace the line of its course by the small white sails that glided in and out oddly enough from behind clumps of trees and across meadow lands
They attracted Johns attention Those cant be boats surely Is there water there
To be sure or you would not see the sails It is the Severn though at this distance you cant perceive it yet it is deep enough too as you may see by the boats it carries You would hardly believe so to look at it here—but I believe it gets broader and broader and turns out a noble river by the time it reaches the Kings Roads and forms the Bristol Channel
Ive seen that cried John with a bright look Ah I like the Severn
He stood gazing at it a good while a new expression dawning in his eyes Eyes in which then for the first time I watched a thought grow and grow till out of them was shining a beauty absolutely divine
All of a sudden the Abbey chimes burst out and made the lad start
Whats that
Turn again Whittington Lord Mayor of London I sang to the bells and then it seemed such a commonplace history and such a very low degree of honour to arrive at that I was really glad I had forgotten to tell John the story I merely showed him where beyond our garden wall and in the invisible high road that interposed rose up the grim old Abbey tower
Probably this garden belonged to the Abbey in ancient time—our orchard is so fine The monks may have planted it they liked fruit those old fellows
Oh did they He evidently did not quite comprehend but was trying without asking to find out what I referred to I was almost ashamed lest he might think I wanted to show off my superior knowledge
The monks were parsons John you know Very good men I dare say but rather idle
Oh indeed Do you think they planted that yew hedge And he went to examine it
Now far and near our yewhedge was noted There was not its like in the whole country It was about fifteen feet high and as many thick Century after century of growth with careful clipping and training had compacted it into a massive green barrier as close and impervious as a wall
John poked in and about it—peering through every interstice—leaning his breast against the solid depth of branches but their close shield resisted all his strength
At last he came back to me his face glowing with the vain efforts he had made
What were you about Did you want to get through
I wanted just to see if it were possible
I shook my head What would you do John if you were shut up here and had to get over the yewhedge You could not climb it
I know that and therefore should not waste time in trying
Would you give up then
He smiled—there was no giving up in that smile of his Ill tell you what Id do—Id begin and break it twig by twig till I forced my way through and got out safe at the other side
Well done lad—but if its all the same to thee I would rather thee did not try that experiment upon MY hedge at present
My father had come behind and overheard us unobserved We were both somewhat confounded though a grim kindliness of aspect showed that he was not displeased—nay even amused
Is that thy usual fashion of getting over a difficulty friend—whats thy name
I supplied the answer The minute Abel Fletcher appeared John seemed to lose all his boyish fun and go back to that premature gravity and hardness of demeanour which I supposed his harsh experience of the world and of men had necessarily taught him but which was very sad to see in a lad so young
My father sat down beside me on the bench—pushed aside an intrusive branch of clematis—finally because it would come back and tickle his bald pate broke it off and threw it into the river then leaning on his stick with both hands eyed John Halifax sharply all over from top to toe
Didnt thee say thee wanted work It looks rather like it
His glance upon the shabby clothes made the boy colour violently
Oh thee needst not be ashamed better men than thee have been in rags Hast thee any money
The groat you gave that is paid me I never take what I dont earn said the lad sticking a hand in either poor empty pocket
Dont be afraid—I was not going to give thee anything—except maybe—Would thee like some work
O sir
O father
I hardly know which was the most grateful cry
Abel Fletcher looked surprised but on the whole not illpleased Putting on and pulling down his broadbrimmed hat he sat meditatively for a minute or so making circles in the gravel walk with the end of his stick People said—nay Jael herself once in a passion had thrown the fact at me—that the wealthy Friend himself had come to Norton Bury without a shilling in his pocket
Well what work canst thee do lad
Anything was the eager answer
Anything generally means nothing sharply said my father what hast thee been at all this year—The truth mind
Johns eyes flashed but a look from mine seemed to set him right again He said quietly and respectfully Let me think a minute and Ill tell you All spring I was at a farmers riding the ploughhorses hoeing turnips then I went up the hills with some sheep in June I tried haymaking and caught a fever—you neednt start sir Ive been well these six weeks or I wouldnt have come near your son—then—
That will do lad—Im satisfied
Thank you sir
Thee need not say sir—it is folly I am Abel Fletcher For my father retained scrupulously the Friends mode of speech though he was practically but a lax member of the Society and had married out of its pale In this announcement of his plain name appeared I fancy more pride than humility
Very well I will remember answered the boy fearlessly though with an amused twist of his mouth speedily restrained And now Abel Fletcher I shall be willing and thankful for any work you can give me
Well see about it
I looked gratefully and hopefully at my father—but his next words rather modified my pleasure
Phineas one of my men at the tanyard has gone and listed this day—left an honest livelihood to be a paid cutthroat Now if I could get a lad—one too young to be caught hold of at every pothouse by that man of blood the recruiting sergeant—Dost thee think this lad is fit to take the place
Whose place father
Bill Watkins
I was dumbfoundered I had occasionally seen the said Bill Watkins whose business it was to collect the skins which my father had bought from the farmers round about A distinct vision presented itself to me of Bill and his cart from which dangled the sanguinary exuviae of defunct animals while in front the said Bill sat enthroned dirtyclad and dirtyhanded with his pipe in his mouth The idea of John Halifax in such a position was not agreeable
But father—
He read deprecation in my looks—alas he knew too well how I disliked the tanyard and all belonging to it Theert a fool and the lads another He may go about his business for me
But father isnt there anything else
I have nothing else or if I had I wouldnt give it He that will not work neither shall he eat
I will work said John sturdily—he had listened scarcely comprehending to my father and me I dont care what it is if only its honest work
Abel Fletcher was mollified He turned his back on me—but that I little minded—and addressed himself solely to John Halifax
Canst thee drive
That I can and his eyes brightened with boyish delight
Tut its only a cart—the cart with the skins Dost thee know anything of tanning
No but I can learn
Hey not so fast still better be fast than slow In the meantime thee can drive the cart
Thank you sir—Abel Fletcher I mean—Ill do it well That is as well as I can
And mind no stopping on the road No drinking to find the kings cursed shilling at the bottom of the glass like poor Bill for thy mother to come crying and pestering Thee hasnt got one eh So much the better all women are born fools especially mothers
Sir The lads face was all crimson and quivering his voice choked it was with difficulty he smothered down a burst of tears Perhaps this selfcontrol was more moving than if he had wept—at least it answered better with my father
After a few minutes more during which his stick had made a little grave in the middle of the walk and buried something there—I think something besides the pebble—Abel Fletcher said not unkindly
Well Ill take thee though it isnt often I take a lad without a character of some sort—I suppose thee hast none
None was the answer while the straightforward steady gaze which accompanied it unconsciously contradicted the statement his own honest face was the lads best witness—at all events I thought so
Tis done then said my father concluding the business more quickly than I had ever before known his cautious temper settle even such a seemingly trifling matter I say SEEMINGLY How blindly we talk when we talk of trifles
Carelessly rising he from some kindly impulse or else to mark the closing of the bargain shook the boys hand and left in it a shilling
What is this for
To show I have hired thee as my servant
Servant John repeated hastily and rather proudly Oh yes I understand—well I will try and serve you well
My father did not notice that manly selfdependent smile He was too busy calculating how many more of those said shillings would be a fair equivalent for such labour as a lad ever so much the junior of Bill Watkins could supply After some cogitation he hit upon the right sum I forget how much—be sure it was not over much for money was scarce enough in this wartime and besides there was a belief afloat so widely that it tainted even my worthy father that plenty was not good for the workingclasses they required to be kept low
Having settled the question of wages which John Halifax did not debate at all my father left us but turned back when halfway across the greenturfed square
Thee said thee had no money theres a week in advance my son being witness I pay it thee and I can pay thee a shilling less every Saturday till we get straight
Very well sir good afternoon and thank you
John took off his cap as he spoke—Abel Fletcher involuntarily almost touched his hat in return of the salutation Then he walked away and we had the garden all to ourselves—we Jonathan and his newfound David
I did not fall upon his neck like the princely Hebrew to whom I have likened myself but whom alas I resembled in nothing save my loving But I grasped his hand for the first time and looking up at him as he stood thoughtfully by me whispered that I was very glad
Thank you—so am I said he in a low tone Then all his old manner returned he threw his battered cap high up in the air and shouted out Hurrah—a thorough boy
And I in my poor quavering voice shouted too
CHAPTER III
When I was young and long after then at intervals I had the very useless sometimes harmful and invariably foolish habit of keeping a diary To me at least it has been less foolish and harmful than to most and out of it together with much drawn out of the stores of a memory made preternaturally vivid by a long introverted life which colourless itself had nothing to do but to reflect and retain clear images of the lives around it—out of these two sources I have compiled the present history
Therein necessarily many blank epochs occur These I shall not try to fill up but merely resume the thread of narration as recollection serves
Thus after this first day many days came and went before I again saw John Halifax—almost before I again thought of him For it was one of my seasons of excessive pain when I found it difficult to think of anything beyond those four greypainted walls where morning noon and night slipped wearily away marked by no changes save from daylight to candlelight from candlelight to dawn
Afterwards as my pain abated I began to be haunted by occasional memories of something pleasant that had crossed my dreary life visions of a brave bright young face ready alike to battle with and enjoy the world I could hear the voice that speaking to me was always tender with pity—yet not pity enough to wound I could see the peculiar smile just creeping round his grave mouth—that irrepressible smile indicating the atmosphere of thorough heartcheerfulness which ripens all the fruits of a noble nature and without which the very noblest has about it something unwholesome blank and cold
I wondered if John had ever asked for me At length I put the question
Jael thought he had—but wasnt sure Didnt bother her head about such folk
If he asked again might he come upstairs
No
I was too weak to combat and Jael was too strong an adversary so I lay for days and days in my sick room often thinking but never speaking about the lad Never once asking for him to come to me not though it would have been life to me to see his merry face—I longed after him so
At last I broke the bonds of sickness—which Jael always riveted as long and as tightly as she could—and plunged into the outer world again
It was one marketday—Jael being absent—that I came downstairs A soft bright autumn morning mild as spring coaxing a wandering robin to come and sing to me loud as a quire of birds out of the thinned trees of the Abbey yard I opened the window to hear him though all the while in mortal fear of Jael I listened but caught no tone of her sharp voice which usually came painfully from the back regions of the house it would ill have harmonised with the sweet autumn day and the robins song I sat idly thinking so and wondering whether it were a necessary and universal fact that human beings unlike the year should become harsh and unlovely as they grow old
My robin had done singing and I amused myself with watching a spot of scarlet winding down the rural road our house being on the verge where Norton Bury melted into the country It turned out to be the cloak of a welltodo young farmers wife riding to market in her cart beside her jollylooking spouse Very spruce and selfsatisfied she appeared and the marketpeople turned to stare after her for her costume was a novelty then Doubtless many thought as I did how much prettier was scarlet than duffle grey
Behind the farmers cart came another which at first I scarcely noticed being engrossed by the ruddy face under the red cloak The farmer himself nodded goodhumouredly but Mrs Scarletcloak turned up her nose Oh pride pride I thought amused and watched the two carts the second of which was with difficulty passing the farmers on the opposite side of the narrow road At last it succeeded in getting in advance to the young womans evident annoyance until the driver turning lifted his hat to her with such a merry frank pleasant smile
Surely I knew that smile and the wellset head with its light curly hair Also alas I knew the cart with relics of departed sheep dangling out behind It was our cart of skins and John Halifax was driving it
John John I called out but he did not hear for his horse had taken fright at the red cloak and required a steady hand Very steady the boys hand was so that the farmer clapped his two great fists and shouted Brayvo
But John—my John Halifax—he sat in his cart and drove His appearance was much as when I first saw him—shabbier perhaps as if through repeated drenchings this had been a wet autumn Jael had told me Poor John—well might he look gratefully up at the clear blue sky today ay and the sky never looked down on a brighter cheerier face the same face which whatever rags it surmounted would I believe have ennobled them all
I leaned out watching him approach our house watching him with so great pleasure that I forgot to wonder whether or no he would notice me He did not at first being busy over his horse until just as the notion flashed across my mind that he was passing by our house—also how keenly his doing so would pain me—the lad looked up
A beaming smile of surprise and pleasure a friendly nod then all at once his manner changed he took off his cap and bowed ceremoniously to his masters son
For the moment I was hurt then I could not but respect the honest pride which thus intimated that he knew his own position and wished neither to ignore nor to alter it all advances between us must evidently come from my side So having made his salutation he was driving on when I called after him
John John
Yes sir I am so glad youre better again
Stop one minute till I come out to you And I crawled on my crutches to the front door forgetting everything but the pleasure of meeting him—forgetting even my terror of Jael What could she say even though she held nominally the Friends doctrine—obeyed in the letter at least Call no man your master—what would Jael say if she found me Phineas Fletcher talking in front of my fathers respectable mansion with the vagabond lad who drove my fathers cart of skins
But I braved her and opened the door John where are you
Here he stood at the foot of the steps with the reins on his arm did you want me
Yes Come up here never mind the cart
But that was not Johns way He led the refractory horse settled him comfortably under a tree and gave him in charge to a small boy Then he bounded back across the road and was up the steps to my side in a single leap
I had no notion of seeing you They said you were in bed yesterday Then he HAD been inquiring for me Ought you to be standing at the door this cold day
Its quite warm I said looking up at the sunshine and shivering
Please go in
If youll come too
He nodded then put his arm round mine and helped me in as if he had been a big elder brother and I a little ailing child Well nursed and carefully guarded as I had always been it was the first time in my life I ever knew the meaning of that rare thing tenderness A quality different from kindliness affectionateness or benevolence a quality which can exist only in strong deep and undemonstrative natures and therefore in its perfection is oftenest found in men John Halifax had it more than any one woman or man that I ever knew
Im glad youre better he said and said no more But one look of his expressed as much as halfadozen sympathetic sentences of other people
And how have you been John How do you like the tanyard Tell me frankly
He pulled a wry face though comical withal and said cheerily Everybody must like what brings them their daily bread Its a grand thing for me not to have been hungry for nearly thirty days
Poor John I put my hand on his wrist—his strong brawny wrist Perhaps the contrast involuntarily struck us both with the truth—good for both to learn—that Heavens ways are not so unequal as we sometimes fancy they seem
I have so often wanted to see you John Couldnt you come in now
He shook his head and pointed to the cart That minute through the open halldoor I perceived Jael sauntering leisurely home from market
Now if I was a coward it was not for myself this time The avalanche of illwords I knew must fall—but it should not fall on him if I could help it
Jump up on your cart John Let me see how well you can drive There—goodbye for the present Are you going to the tanyard
Yes—for the rest of the day And he made a face as if he did not quite revel in that delightful prospect No wonder
Ill come and see you there this afternoon
No—with a look of delighted surprise But you must not—you ought not
But I WILL And I laughed to hear myself actually using that phrase What would Jael have said
What—as she arrived just in time to receive a halfmalicious halfceremonious bow from John as he drove off—what that excellent woman did say I have not the slightest recollection I only remember that it did not frighten and grieve me as such attacks used to do that in her own vernacular it all went in at one ear and out at tother that I persisted in looking out until the last glimmer of the bright curls had disappeared down the sunshiny road—then shut the front door and crept in content
Between that time and dinner I sat quiet enough even to please Jael I was thinking over the beautiful old Bible story which latterly had so vividly impressed itself on my mind thinking of Jonathan as he walked by the stone Ezel with the shepherdlad who was to be king of Israel I wondered whether he would have loved him and seen the same future perfection in him had Jonathan the kings son met the poor David keeping his sheep among the folds of Bethlehem
When my father came home he found me waiting in my place at table He only said Thee art better then my son But I knew how glad he was to see me He gave token of this by being remarkably conversible over our meal—though as usual his conversation had a sternly moral tone adapted to the improvement of what he persisted in considering my infant mind It had reference to an anecdote Dr Jessop had just been telling him—about a little girl one of our doctors patients who in some passionate struggle had hurt herself very much with a knife
Let this be a warning to thee my son not to give way to violent passions My good father thought I there is little fear For this child—I remember her father well for he lived at Kingswell here he was violent too and much given to evil ways before he went abroad—Phineas this child this miserable child will bear the mark of the wound all her life
Poor thing said I absently
No need to pity her her spirit is not half broken yet Thomas Jessop said to me That little Ursula—
Is her name Ursula And I called to mind the little girl who had tried to give some bread to the hungry John Halifax and whose cry of pain we heard as the door shut upon her Poor little lady how sorry I was I knew John would be so infinitely sorry too—and all to no purpose—that I determined not to tell him anything about it The next time I saw Dr Jessop I asked him after the child and learned she had been taken away somewhere I forgot where and then the whole affair slipped from my memory
Father said I when he ceased talking—and Jael who always ate her dinner at the same time and table as ourselves but below the salt had ceased nodding a respectful running comment on all he said—Father
Well my son
I should like to go with thee to the tanyard this afternoon
Here Jael who had been busy pulling back the table replacing the long row of chairs and resanding the broad centre Sahara of the room to its dreary pristine aridness stopped fairly aghast with amazement
Abel—Abel Fletcher the lads just out of his bed he is no more fit to—
Pshaw woman was the sharp answer So Phineas thee art really strong enough to go out
If thou wilt take me father
He looked pleased as he always did when I used the Friends mode of phraseology—for I had not been brought up in the Society this having been the last request of my mother rigidly observed by her husband The more so people said as while she lived they had not been quite happy together But whatever he was to her in their brief union he was a good father to me and for his sake I have always loved and honoured the Society of Friends
Phineas said he after having stopped a volley of poor Jaels indignations beseechings threats and prognostications by a resolute Get the lad ready to go—Phineas my son I rejoice to see thy mind turning towards business I trust should better health be vouchsafed thee that some day soon—
Not just yet father said I sadly—for I knew what he referred to and that it would never be Mentally and physically I alike revolted from my fathers trade I held the tanyard in abhorrence—to enter it made me ill for days sometimes for months and months I never went near it That I should ever be what was my poor fathers one desire his assistant and successor in his business was I knew a thing totally impossible
It hurt me a little that my project of going with him today should in any way have deceived him and rather silently and drearily we set out together progressing through Norton Bury streets in our old way my father marching along in his grave fashion I steering my little carriage and keeping as close as I could beside him Many a person looked at us as we passed almost everybody knew us but few even of our own neighbours saluted us we were Nonconformists and Quakers
I had never been in the town since the day I came through it with John Halifax The season was much later now but it was quite warm still in the sunshine and very pleasant looked the streets even the close narrow streets of Norton Bury I beg its pardon antiquaries hold it a most interesting and remarkable place and I myself have sometimes admired its quaint overhanging ornamented housefronts—blackened and wonderfully old But one rarely notices what has been familiar throughout life and now I was less struck by the beauty of the picturesque old town than by the muddiness of its pathways and the mingled noises of murmuring looms scolding women and squabbling children that came up from the alleys which lay between the High Street and the Avon In those alleys were hundreds of our poor folk living huddled together in misery rags and dirt Was John Halifax living there too
My fathers tanyard was in an alley a little further on Already I perceived the familiar odour sometimes a not unpleasant barky smell at other times borne in horrible wafts as if from a lately forsaken battlefield I wondered how anybody could endure it—yet some did and among the workmen as we entered I looked round for the lad I knew
He was sitting in a corner in one of the sheds helping two or three women to split bark very busy at work yet he found time to stop now and then and administered a wisp of sweet hay to the old blind mare as she went slowly round and round turning the bark mill Nobody seemed to notice him and he did not speak to anybody
As we passed John did not even see us I asked my father in a whisper how he liked the boy
What boy—eh him—Oh well enough—theres no harm in him that I know of Dost thee want him to wheel thee about the yard Here I say lad—bless me Ive forgot thy name
John Halifax started up at the sharp tone of command but when he saw me he smiled My father walked on to some pits where he told me he was trying an important experiment how a hide might be tanned completely in five months instead of eight I stayed behind
John I want you
John shook himself free of the barkheap and came rather hesitatingly at first
Anything I can do for you sir
Dont call me sir if I say John why dont you say Phineas
And I held out my hand—his was all grimed with barkdust
Are you not ashamed to shake hands with me
Nonsense John
So we settled that point entirely And though he never failed to maintain externally a certain gentle respectfulness of demeanour towards me yet it was more the natural deference of the younger to the elder of the strong to the weak than the duty paid by a servinglad to his masters son And this was how I best liked it to be
He guided me carefully among the tanpits—those deep fosses of abomination with a slender network of pathways thrown between—until we reached the lower end of the yard It was bounded by the Avon only and by a great heap of refuse bark
This is not a bad place to rest in if you liked to get out of the carriage Id make you comfortable here in no time
I was quite willing so he ran off and fetched an old horserug which he laid upon the soft dry mass Then he helped me thither and covered me with my cloak Lying thus with my hat over my eyes just distinguishing the shiny glimmer of the Avon running below and beyond that the green level Ham dotted with cows my position was anything but unpleasant In fact positively agreeable—ay even though the tanyard was close behind but here it would offend none of my senses
Are you comfortable Phineas
Very if you would come and sit down too
That I will
And we then began to talk I asked him if he often patronised the barkheap he seemed so very much at home there
So I am he answered smiling it is my castle—my house
And not unpleasant to live at either
Except when it rains Does it always rain at Norton Bury
For shame John and I pointed to the bluest of autumn skies though in the distance an afternoon mist was slowly creeping on
All very fine now but theres a fog coming over Severn and it is sure to rain at nightfall I shall not get my nice little bit of October evening
You must spend it within doors then John shook his head You ought it must be dreadfully cold on this barkheap after sunset
Rather sometimes Are you cold now Shall I fetch—but I havent anything fit to wrap you in except this rug
He muffled it closer round me infinitely light and tender was his roughlooking boys hand
I never saw anybody so thin as you thinner much since I saw you Have you been very very ill Phineas What ailed you
His anxiety was so earnest that I explained to him what I may as well explain here and dismiss once for all the useless topic that from my birth I had been puny and diseased that my life had been a succession of sicknesses and that I could hope for little else until the end
But dont think I mind it John for I was grieved to see his shocked and troubled look I am very content I have a quiet home a good father and now I think and believe I have found the one thing I wanted—a good friend
He smiled but only because I did I saw he did not understand me In him as in most strong and selfcontained temperaments was a certain slowness to receive impressions which however being once received are indelible Though I being in so many things his opposite had none of this peculiarity but felt at once quickly and keenly yet I rather liked the contrary in him as I think we almost always do like in another those peculiarities which are most different from our own Therefore I was neither vexed nor hurt because the lad was slow to perceive all that he had so soon become and all that I meant him to become to me I knew from every tone of his voice every chance expression of his honest eyes that he was one of those characters in which we may be sure that for each feeling they express lies a countless wealth of the same unexpressed below a character the keystone of which was that whereon is built all liking and all love—DEPENDABLENESS He was one whom you may be long in knowing but whom the more you know the more you trust and once trusting you trust for ever
Perhaps I may be supposed imaginative or at least premature in discovering all these characteristics in a boy of fourteen and possibly in thus writing of him I may unwittingly be drawing a little from afterexperience however being the truth let it stand
Come said I changing the conversation we have had enough of me how goes the world with you Have you taken kindly to the tanyard Answer frankly
He looked at me hard put both his hands in his pockets and began to whistle a tune
Dont shirk the question please John I want to know the real truth
Well then I hate the tanyard
Having relieved his mind by this ebullition and by kicking a small heap of tan right down into the river he became composed
But Phineas dont imagine I intend to hate it always I intend to get used to it as many a better fellow than I has got used to many a worse thing Its wicked to hate what wins ones bread and is the only thing one is likely to get on in the world with merely because its disagreeable
You are a wise lad of your age John
Now dont you be laughing at me But I was not I was in solemn earnest And dont think Im worse than I am and especially that Im not thankful to your good father for giving me a lift in the world—the first I ever really had If I get one foot on the ladder perhaps I may climb
I should rather believe so answered I very confidently But you seem to have thought a good deal about these sort of things
Oh yes I have plenty of time for thinking and ones thoughts travel fast enough lying on this barkheap—faster than indoors I often wish I could read—that is read easily As it is I have nothing to do but to think and nothing to think of but myself and what I should like to be
Suppose after Dick Whittingtons fashion you succeeded to your masters business should you like to be a tanner
He paused—his truthful face betraying him Then he said resolutely I would like to be anything that was honest and honourable Its a notion of mine that whatever a man may be his trade does not make him—he makes his trade That is—but I know I cant put the subject clear for I have not got it clear in my own head yet—Im only a lad However it all comes to this—that whether I like it or not Ill stick to the tanning as long as I can
Thats right Im so glad Nevertheless—and I watched him as he stood his foot planted firmly no easy feat on the shifting barkheap his head erect and his mouth close but smiling—Nevertheless John its my opinion that you might be anything you liked
He laughed Questionable that—at least at present Whatever I may be I am just now the lad that drives your fathers cart and works in your fathers tanyard—John Halifax and very much at your service Mr Phineas Fletcher
Half in fun half in earnest he uncovered his fair locks with a bow so contradictory to the rest of his appearance that I involuntarily recalled the Greek Testament and Guy Halifax Gentleman However that could be no matter to me or to him either now The lad like many another owed nothing to his father but his mere existence—Heaven knows whether that gift is oftenest a curse or a boon
The afternoon had waned during our talk but I was very loth to part with my friend Suddenly I thought of asking where his home was
How do you mean
Where do you live where do you take your meals and sleep
Why as to that I have not much time for eating and drinking Generally I eat my dinner as I go along the road where theres lots of blackberries by way of pudding—which is grand Supper when I do get it I like best on this barkheap after the men are away and the tanyards clear Your father lets me stay
And where is your lodging then Where do you sleep
He hesitated—coloured a little To tell the truth—anywhere I can Generally here
What outofdoors
Just so
I was much shocked To sleep outofdoors seemed to me the very lowest ebb of human misery so degrading too—like a common tramp or vagabond instead of a decent lad
John how can you—why do you—do such a thing
Ill tell you said he sitting down beside me in a dogged way as if he had read my thoughts guessed at my suspicions and was determined to show that he feared neither—that he would use his own judgment and follow his own will in spite of anybody Look here I get three shillings a week which is about fivepence a day out of that I eat threepence—Im a big growing lad and its hard to be hungry Theres twopence left to pay for lodging I tried it once—twice—at the decentest place I could find but— here an expression of intolerable disgust came over the boys face—I dont intend to try that again I was never used to it Better keep my own company and the open air Now you see
Oh John
Nay—theres no need to be sorry You dont know how comfortable it is to sleep out of doors and so nice to wake in the middle of the night and see the stars shining over your head
But isnt it very cold
No—not often I scoop out a snug little nest in the bark and curl up in it like a dormouse wrapped in this rug which one of the men gave me Besides every morning early I take a plunge and a swim in the stream and that makes me warm all day
I shivered—I who feared the touch of cold water Yet there with all his hardships he stood before me the model of healthy boyhood Alas I envied him
But this trying life which he made so light of could not go on What shall you do when winter comes
John looked grave I dont know I suppose I shall manage somehow—like the sparrows he answered perceiving not how apposite his illustration was For truly he seemed as destitute as the birds of the air whom ONE feedeth when they cry to Him
My question had evidently made him thoughtful he remained silent a good while
At last I said John do you remember the woman who spoke so sharply to you in the alley that day
Yes I shall never forget anything which happened that day he answered softly
She was my nurse once She is not such a bad woman though trouble has sharpened her temper Her biggest boy Bill who is gone off for a soldier used to drive your cart you know
Yes said John interrogatively for I was slow in putting forth my plans—that is as much of them as it was needful he should know
Sally is poor—not so very poor though Your twopence a night would help her and I dare say if youll let me speak to her you might have Bills attic all to yourself She has but one other lad at home its worth trying for
It is indeed You are very kind Phineas He said no more words than these—but their tone spoke volumes
I got into my little carriage again for I was most anxious not to lose a day in this matter I persuaded John to go at once with me to Sally Watkins My father was not to be seen but I ventured to leave word for him that I was gone home and had taken John Halifax with me it was astonishing how bold I felt myself growing now that there was another beside myself to think and act for
We reached Widow Watkins door It was a poor place—poorer than I had imagined but I remembered what agonies of cleanliness had been inflicted on me in nursery days and took hope for John
Sally sat in her kitchen tidy and subdued mending an old jacket that had once been Bills until being supplanted by the grand red coat it descended upon Jem the second lad But Bill still engrossed the poor mothers heart—she could do nothing but weep over him and curse Bonyparty Her mind was so full of this that she apparently failed to recognise in the decent young workman John Halifax the halfstarved lad she had belaboured with her tongue in the alley She consented at once to his lodging with her—though she looked up with an odd stare when I said he was a friend of mine
So we settled our business first all together then Sally and I alone while John went up to look at his room I knew I could trust Sally whom I was glad enough to help poor woman She promised to make him extracomfortable and keep my secret too When John came down she was quite civil to him—even friendly
She said it would really be a comfort to her that another fine strapping lad should sleep in Bills bed and be coming in and out of her house just like her poor dear boy
I felt rather doubtful of the resemblance and indeed halfangry but John only smiled
And if maybe hed do a hands turn now and then about the kitchen—I spose he beant above it
Not a bit said John Halifax pleasantly
Before we left I wanted to see his room he carried me up and we both sat down on the bed that had been poor Bills It was nothing to boast of being a mere sacking stuffed with hay—a blanket below and another at top I had to beg from Jael the only pair of sheets John owned for a long time The attic was very low and small hardly big enough to whip a cat round or even a kitten—yet John gazed about it with an air of proud possession
I declare I shall be as happy as a king Only look out of the window
Ay the window was the grand advantage out of it one could crawl on to the roof and from the roof was the finest view in all Norton Bury On one side the town the Abbey and beyond it a wide stretch of meadow and woodland as far as you could see on the other the broad Ham the glittering curve of Severn and the distant country sloping up into the blue bills far away A picture which in its incessant variety its quiet beauty and its inexpressibly soothing charm was likely to make the simple everyday act of looking out o window unconsciously influence the mind as much as a world of books
Do you like your castle John said I when I had silently watched his beaming face will it suit you
I rather think it will he cried in hearty delight And my heart likewise was very glad
Dear little attic room close against the sky—so close that many a time the rain came pattering in or the sun beating down upon the roof made it like a furnace or the snow on the leads drifted so high as to obscure the window—yet how merry how happy we have been there How often have we both looked back upon it in after days
CHAPTER IV
Winter came early and sudden that year
It was to me a long dreary season worse even than my winters inevitably were I never stirred from my room and never saw anybody but my father Dr Jessop and Jael At last I took courage to say to the former that I wished he would send John Halifax up some day
What does thee want the lad for
Only to see him
Pshaw a lad out o the tanyard is not fit company for thee Let him alone hell do well enough if thee doesnt try to lift him out of his place
Lift John Halifax out of his place I agreed with my father that that was impossible but then we evidently differed widely in our definition of what the place might be So afraid of doing him harm and feeling how much his future depended on his favour with his master I did not discuss the matter Only at every possible opportunity—and they were rare—I managed to send John a little note written carefully in printed letters for I knew he could read that also a book or two out of which he might teach himself a little more
Then I waited eagerly but patiently until spring came when without making any more fruitless efforts I should be sure to see him I knew enough of himself and was too jealous over his dignity to wish either to force him by entreaties or bring him by stratagem into a house where he was not welcome even though it were the house of my own father
One February day when the frost had at last broken up and soft plentiful rain had half melted the great snowdrifts which Jael told me lay about the country everywhere I thought I would just put my head out of doors to see how long the blessed spring would be in coming So I crawled down into the parlour and out of the parlour into the garden Jael scolding my father roughly encouraging My poor father he always had the belief that people need not be ill unless they chose and that I could do a great deal if I would
I felt very strong today It was delicious to see again the green grass which had been hidden for weeks delicious to walk up and down in the sunshine under the shelter of the yew hedge I amused myself by watching a pale line of snowdrops which had come up one by one like prisoners of war to their execution
But the next minute I felt ashamed of the heartless simile for it reminded me of poor Bill Watkins who taken after the battle of Mentz last December had been shot by the French as a spy Poor rosy burly Bill better had he still been ingloriously driving our cart of skins
Have you been to see Sally lately said I to Jael who was cutting winter cabbages hard by is she getting over her trouble
She beant rich to afford fretting Theres Jem and three little uns yet to feed to say nought of another big lad as lives there and eats a deal more than he pays Im sure
I took the insinuation quietly for I knew that my father had lately raised Johns wages and he his rent to Sally This together with a few other facts which lay between Sally and me made me quite easy in the mind as to his being no burthen but rather a help to the widow—so I let Jael have her say it did no harm to me nor anybody
What bold little things snowdrops are—stop Jael you are setting your foot on them
But I was too late she had crushed them under the highheeled shoe She was even near pulling me down as she stepped back in great hurry and consternation
Look at that young gentleman coming down the garden and here I be in my dirty gown and my apron full o cabbages
And she dropped the vegetables all over the path as the gentleman came towards us
I smiled—for in spite of his transformation I at least had no difficulty in recognising John Halifax
He had on new clothes—let me give the credit due to that wonderful civiliser the tailor—clothes neat decent and plain such as any prentice lad might wear They fitted well his figure which had increased both in height compactness and grace Round his neck was a coarse but white shirt frill and over it fell carefully arranged the bright curls of his bonny hair Easily might Jael or any one else have mistaken him as she cuttingly said for a young gentleman
She looked very indignant though when she found out the aforesaid mistake
What may be thy business here she said roughly
Abel Fletcher sent me on a message
Out with it then—dont be stopping with Phineas here Thee beant company for him and his father dont choose it
Jael I cried indignantly John never spoke but his cheek burnt furiously
I took his hand and told him how glad I was to see him—but for a minute I doubt if he heard me
Abel Fletcher sent me here he repeated in a wellcontrolled voice that I might go out with Phineas if HE objects to my company its easy to say so
And he turned to me I think he must have been satisfied then
Jael retired discomfited and in her wrath again dropped half of her cabbages John picked them up and restored them but got for thanks only a parting thrust
Thee art mighty civil in thy new clothes Be off and be back again sharp and I say dont thee be leaving the cart o skins again under the parlour windows
I dont drive the cart now was all he replied
Not drive the cart I asked eagerly when Jael had disappeared for I was afraid some ill chance had happened
Only that this winter Ive managed to teach myself to read and add up out of your books you know and your father found it out and he says I shall go round collecting money instead of skins and its much better wages and—I like it better—thats all
But little as he said his whole face beamed with pride and pleasure It was in truth a great step forward
He must trust you very much John said I at last knowing how exceedingly particular my father was in his collectors
Thats it—thats what pleases me so He is very good to me Phineas and he gave me a special holiday that I might go out with you Isnt that grand
Grand indeed What fun well have I almost think I could take a walk myself
For the lads company invariably gave me new life and strength and hope The very sight of him was as good as the coming of spring
Where shall we go said he when we were fairly off and he was guiding my carriage down Norton Bury streets
I think to the Mythe The Mythe was a little hill on the outskirts of the town breezy and fresh where Squire Brithwood had built himself a fine house ten years ago
Ay that will do and as we go you will see the floods out—a wonderful sight isnt it The river is rising still I hear at the tanyard they are busy making a dam against it How high are the floods here generally Phineas
Im sure I cant remember But dont look so serious Let us enjoy ourselves
And I did enjoy intensely that pleasant stroll The mere sunshine was delicious delicious too to pause on the bridge at the other end of the town and feel the breeze brought in by the rising waters and hear the loud sound of them as they poured in a cataract over the floodgates hard by
Your lazy muddy Avon looks splendid now What masses of white foam it makes and what wreaths of spray and see ever so much of the Ham is under water How it sparkles in the sun
John you like looking at anything pretty
Ah dont I cried he with his whole heart My heart leaped too to see him so happy
You cant think how fine this is from my window I have watched it for a week Every morning the water seems to have made itself a fresh channel Look at that one by the willowtree—how savagely it pours
Oh we at Norton Bury are used to floods
Are they ever very serious
Have been—but not in my time Now John tell me what you have been doing all winter
It was a brief and simple chronicle—of hard work all day over and from the Monday to the Saturday—too hard work to do anything of nights save to drop into the sound dreamless sleep of youth and labour
But how did you teach yourself to read and add up then
Generally at odd minutes going along the road Its astonishing what a lot of odd minutes one can catch during the day if one really sets about it And then I had Sunday afternoons besides I did not think it wrong—
No said I decisively What books have you got through
All you sent—Pilgrims Progress Robinson Crusoe and the Arabian Nights Thats fine isnt it and his eyes sparkled
Any more
Also the one you gave me at Christmas I have read it a good deal
I liked the tone of quiet reverence in which he spoke I liked to hear him own nor be ashamed to own—that he read a good deal in that rare book for a boy to read—the Bible
But on this subject I did not ask him any more questions indeed it seemed to me and seems still that no more were needed
And you can read quite easily now John
Pretty well considering Then turning suddenly to me You read a great deal dont you I overheard your father say you were very clever How much do you know
Oh—nonsense But he pressed me and I told him The list was short enough I almost wished it were shorter when I saw Johns face
For me—I can only just read and I shall be fifteen directly
The accent of shame despondency even despair went to my very heart
Dont mind I said laying my feeble useless hand upon that which guided me on so steady and so strong how could you have had time working as hard as you do
But I ought to learn I must learn
You shall Its little I can teach but if you like Ill teach you all I know
O Phineas One flash of those bright moist eyes and he walked hastily across the road Thence he came back in a minute or two armed with the tallest straightest of briarrose shoots
You like a roseswitch dont you I do Nay stop till Ive cut off the thorns And he walked on beside me working at it with his knife in silence
I was silent too but I stole a glance at his mouth as seen in profile I could almost always guess at his thoughts by that mouth so flexible sensitive and at times so infinitely sweet It wore that expression now I was satisfied for I knew the lad was happy
We reached the Mythe David I said I had got into a habit of calling him David and now he had read a certain history in that Book I supposed he had guessed why for he liked the name I dont think I can go any further up the hill
Oh but you shall Ill push behind and when we come to the stile Ill carry you Its lovely on the top of the Mythe—look at the sunset You cannot have seen a sunset for ever so long
No—that was true I let John do as he would with me—he who brought into my pale life the only brightness it had ever known
Ere long we stood on the top of the steep mound I know not if it be a natural hill or one of those old Roman or British remains plentiful enough hereabouts but it was always called the Mythe Close below it at the foot of a precipitous slope ran the Severn there broad and deep enough gradually growing broader and deeper as it flowed on through a wide plain of level country towards the line of hills that bounded the horizon Severn looked beautiful here neither grand nor striking but certainly beautiful a calm gracious generous river bearing strength in its tide and plenty in its bosom rolling on through the land slowly and surely like a good mans life and fertilising wherever it flows
Do you like Severn still John
I love it
I wondered if his thoughts had been anything like mine
What is that he cried suddenly pointing to a new sight which even I had not often seen on our river It was a mass of water three or four feet high which came surging along the midstream upright as a wall
It is the eger Ive often seen it on Severn where the swift seaward current meets the springtide Look what a crest of foam it has like a wild boars mane We often call it the riverboar
But it is only a big wave
Big enough to swamp a boat though
And while I spoke I saw to my horror that there actually was a boat with two men in it trying to get out of the way of the eger
They never can theyll assuredly be drowned O John
But he had already slipped from my side and swung himself by furzebushes and grass down the steep slope to the waters edge
It was a breathless moment The eger travelled slowly in its passage changing the smooth sparkling river to a whirl of conflicting currents in which no boat could live—least of all that light pleasureboat with its toppling sail In it was a youth I knew by sight Mr Brithwood of the Mythe House and another gentleman
They both pulled hard—they got out of the midstream but not close enough to land and already there was but two oars length between them and the boar
Swim for it I heard one cry to the other but swimming would not have saved them
Hold there shouted John at the top of his voice throw that rope out and I will pull you in
It was a hard tug I shuddered to see him wade kneedeep in the stream—but he succeeded Both gentlemen leaped safe on shore The younger tried desperately to save his boat but it was too late Already the waterboar had clutched it—the rope broke like a gossamerthread—the trim white sail was dragged down—rose up once broken and torn like a butterfly caught in a millstream—then disappeared
So its all over with her poor thing
Who cares—We might have lost our lives sharply said the other an older and sicklylooking gentleman dressed in mourning to whom life did not seem a particularly pleasant thing though he appeared to value it so highly
They both scrambled up the Mythe without noticing John Halifax then the elder turned
But who pulled us ashore Was it you my young friend
John Halifax emptying his soaked boots answered I suppose so
Indeed we owe you much
Not more than a crown will pay said young Brithwood gruffly I know him Cousin March He works in Fletcher the Quakers tanyard
Nonsense cried Mr March who had stood looking at the boy with a kindly even halfsad air Impossible Young man will you tell me to whom I am so much obliged
My name is John Halifax
Yes but WHAT are you
What he said Mr Brithwood knows me well enough I work in the tanyard
Oh Mr March turned away with a resumption of dignity though evidently both surprised and disappointed Young Brithwood laughed
I told you so cousin Hey lad eyeing John over youve been out at grass and changed your coat for the better but youre certainly the same lad that my curricle nearly ran over one day you were driving a cart of skins—pah I remember
So do I said John fiercely but when the youths insolent laughter broke out again he controlled himself The laughter ceased
Well youve done me a good turn for an ill one young—whatsyourname so heres a guinea for you He threw it towards him it fell on the ground and lay there
Nay nay Richard expostulated the sickly gentleman who after all WAS a gentleman He stood apparently struggling with conflicting intentions and not very easy in his mind My good fellow he said at last in a constrained voice I wont forget your bravery If I could do anything for you—and meanwhile if a trifle like this—and he slipped something into Johns hand
John returned it with a bow merely saying that he would rather not take any money
The gentleman looked very much astonished There was a little more of persistence on one side and resistance on the other and then Mr March put the guineas irresolutely back into his pocket looking the while lingeringly at the boy—at his tall figure and flushed proud face
How old are you
Fifteen nearly
Ah it was almost a sigh He turned away and turned back again My name is March—Henry March if you should ever—
Thank you sir Goodday
Goodday I fancied he was half inclined to shake hands—but John did not or would not see it Mr March walked on following young Brithwood but at the stile he turned round once more and glanced at John Then they disappeared
Im glad theyre gone now we can be comfortable He flung himself down wrung out his wet stockings laughed at me for being so afraid he would take cold and so angry at young Brithwoods insults I sat wrapped in my cloak and watched him making idle circles in the sandy path with the roseswitch he had cut
A thought struck me John hand me the stick and Ill give you your first writing lesson
So there on the smooth gravel and with the rosestem for a pen I taught him how to form the letters of the alphabet and join them together He learned them very quickly—so quickly that in a little while the simple copybook that Mother Earth obliged us with was covered in all directions with J O H N—John
Bravo he cried as we turned homeward he flourishing his gigantic pen which had done such good service bravo I have gained something today
Crossing the bridge over the Avon we stood once more to look at the waters that were out They had risen considerably even in that short time and were now pouring in several new channels one of which was alongside of the high road we stopped a good while watching it The current was harmless enough merely flooding a part of the Ham but it awed us to see the fierce power of waters let loose An old willowtree about whose roots I had often watched the kingcups growing was now in the centre of a stream as broad as the Avon by our tanyard and thrice as rapid The torrent rushed round it—impatient of the divisions its great roots caused—eager to undermine and tear it up Inevitably if the flood did not abate within a few hours more there would be nothing left of the fine old tree
I dont quite like this said John meditatively as his quick eye swept down the course of the river with the houses and wharves that abutted on it all along one bank Did you ever see the waters thus high before
Yes I believe I have nobody minds it at Norton Bury it is only the sudden thaw my father says and he ought to know for he has had plenty of experience the tanyard being so close to the river
I was thinking of that but come its getting cold
He took me safe home and we parted cordially—nay affectionately—at my own door
When will you come again David
When your father sends me
And I felt that HE felt that our intercourse was always to be limited to this Nothing clandestine nothing obtrusive was possible even for friendships sake to John Halifax
My father came in late that evening he looked tired and uneasy and instead of going to bed though it was after nine oclock sat down to his pipe in the chimneycorner
Is the river rising still father Will it do any harm to the tanyard
What dost thee know about the tanyard
Only John Halifax was saying—
John Halifax had better hold his tongue
I held mine
My father puffed away in silence till I came to bid him goodnight I think the sound of my crutches on the floor stirred him out of a long meditation in which his illhumour had ebbed away
Where didst thee go out today Phineas—thee and the lad I sent
To the Mythe and I told him the incident that had happened there He listened without reply
Wasnt it a brave thing to do father
Um—and a few meditative puffs Phineas the lad thee hast such a hankering after is a good lad—a very decent lad—if thee doesnt make too much of him Remember he is but my servant theert my son—my only son
Alas my poor father it was hard enough for him to have such an only son as I
In the middle of the night—or else to me lying awake it seemed so—there was a knocking at our hall door I slept on the ground flat in a little room opposite the parlour Ere I could well collect my thoughts I saw my father pass fully dressed with a light in his hand And man of peace though he was I was very sure I saw in the other—something which always lay near his strong box at his beds head at night Because ten years ago a large sum had been stolen from him and the burglar had gone free of punishment The law refused to receive Abel Fletchers testimony—he was only a Quaker
The knocking grew louder as if the person had no time to hesitate at making a noise Whos there called out my father and at the answer he opened the front door first shutting mine
A minute afterwards I heard some one in my room Phineas are you here—dont be frightened
I was not—as soon as his voice reached me Johns own familiar voice Its something about the tanyard
Yes the waters are rising and I have come to fetch your father he may save a good deal yet I am ready sir—in answer to a loud call Now Phineas lie you down again the nights bitter cold Dont stir—youll promise—Ill see after your father
They went out of the house together and did not return the whole night
That night February 5 1795 was one long remembered at Norton Bury Bridges were destroyed—boats carried away—houses inundated or sapped at their foundations The loss of life was small but that of property was very great Six hours did the work of ruin and then the flood began to turn
It was a long waiting until they came home—my father and John At daybreak I saw them standing on the doorstep A blessed sight
O father my dear father and I drew him in holding fast his hands—faster and closer than I had done since I was a child He did not repel me
Theert up early and its a cold morning for thee my son Go back to the fire
His voice was gentle his ruddy countenance pale two strange things in Abel Fletcher
Father tell me what has befallen thee
Nothing my son save that the Giver of all worldly goods has seen fit to take back a portion of mine I like many another in this town am poorer by some thousands than I went to bed last night
He sat down I knew he loved his money for it had been hardly earned I had not thought he would have borne its loss so quietly
Father never mind it might have been worse
Of a surety I should have lost everything I had in the world—save for—Where is the lad What art thee standing outside for Come in John and shut the door
John obeyed though without advancing He was cold and wet I wanted him to sit down by the fireside
Ay do lad said my father kindly
John came
I stood between the two—afraid to ask what they had undergone but sure from the old mans grave face and the lads bright one—flushed all over with that excitement of danger so delicious to the young—that the peril had not been small
Jael cried my father rousing himself give us some breakfast the lad and me—we have had a hard nights work together
Jael brought the mug of ale and the bread and cheese but either did not or could not notice that the meal had been ordered for more than one
Another plate said my father sharply
The lad can go into the kitchen Abel Fletcher his breakfast is waiting there
My father winced—even her master was sometimes rather afraid of Jael But conscience or his will conquered
Woman do as I desired Bring another plate and another mug of ale
And so to Jaels great wrath and to my great joy John Halifax was bidden and sat down to the same board as his master The fact made an ineffaceable impression on our household
After breakfast as we sat by the fire in the pale haze of that February morning my father contrary to his wont explained to me all his losses and how but for the timely warning he had received the flood might have nearly ruined him
So it was well John came I said half afraid to say more
Ay and the lad has been useful too it is an old head on young shoulders
John looked very proud of this praise though it was grimly given But directly after it some ill or suspicious thought seemed to come into Abel Fletchers mind
Lad suddenly turning round on John Halifax thee told me thee saw the river rising by the light of the moon What wast THEE doing then out o thy honest bed and thy quiet sleep at eleven oclock at night
John coloured violently the quick young blood was always ready enough to rise in his face It spoke ill for him with my father
Answer I will not be hard upon thee—tonight at least
As you like Abel Fletcher answered the boy sturdily I was doing no harm I was in the tanyard
Thy business there
None at all I was with the men—they were watching and had a candle and I wanted to sit up and had no light
What didst thee want to sit up for pursued my father keen and sharp as a ferret at a fieldrats hole or a barrister hunting a witness in those courts of law that were never used by though often used against us Quakers
John hesitated and again his painful falselyaccusing blushes tried him sore Sir Ill tell you its no disgrace Though Im such a big fellow I cant write and your son was good enough to try and teach me I was afraid of forgetting the letters so I tried to make them all over again with a bit of chalk on the barkshed wall It did nobody any harm that I know of
The boys tone even though it was rather quick and angry won no reproof At last my father said gently enough—
Is that all lad
Yes
Again Abel Fletcher fell into a brown study We two lads talked softly to each other—afraid to interrupt He smoked through a whole pipe—his great and almost his only luxury and then again called out—
John Halifax
Im here
Its time thee went away to thy work
Im going this minute Goodbye Phineas Good day sir Is there anything you want done
He stood before his master cap in hand with an honest manliness pleasant to see Any master might have been proud of such a servant—any father of such a son My poor father—no he did not once look from John Halifax to me He would not have owned for the world that halfsmothered sigh or murmured because Heaven had kept back from him—as Heaven knows why it often does from us all—the one desire of the heart
John Halifax thee hast been of great service to me this night What reward shall I give thee
And instinctively his hand dived down into his pocket John turned away
Thank you—Id rather not It is quite enough reward that I have been useful to my master and that he acknowledges it
My father thought a minute and then offered his hand Theert in the right lad I am very much obliged to thee and I will not forget it
And John—blushing brightly once more—went away looking as proud as an emperor and as happy as a poor man with a bag of gold
Is there nothing thou canst think of Phineas that would pleasure the lad said my father after we had been talking some time—though not about John
I had thought of something—something I had long desired but which seemed then all but an impossibility Even now it was with some doubt and hesitation that I made the suggestion that he should spend every Sunday at our house
Nonsense—thee knowst nought of Norton Bury lads He would not care He had rather lounge about all Firstday at street corners with his acquaintance
John has none father He knows nobody—cares for nobody—but me Do let him come
Well see about it
My father never broke or retracted his word So after that John Halifax came to us every Sunday and for one day of the week at least was received in his masters household as our equal and my friend
CHAPTER V
Summers and winters slipped by lazily enough as the years seemed always to crawl round at Norton Bury How things went in the outside world I little knew or cared My father lived his life mechanical and steady as clockwork and we two John Halifax and Phineas Fletcher lived our lives—the one so active and busy the other so useless and dull Neither of us counted the days nor looked backwards or forwards
One June morning I woke to the consciousness that I was twenty years old and that John Halifax was—a man the difference between us being precisely as I have expressed it
Our birthdays fell within a week of each other and it was in remembering his—the one which advanced him to the dignity of eighteen—that I called to mind my own I say advanced him to the dignity—but in truth that is an idle speech for any dignity which the maturity of eighteen may be supposed to confer he had already in possession Manhood had come to him both in character and demeanour not as it comes to most young lads an eagerlydesired and presumptuouslyasserted claim but as a rightful inheritance to be received humbly and worn simply and naturally So naturally that I never seemed to think of him as anything but a boy until this one June Sunday when as before stated I myself became twenty years old
I was talking over that last fact in a rather dreamy mood as he and I sat in our longfamiliar summer seat the clematis arbour by the garden wall
It seems very strange John but so it is—I am actually twenty
Well and what of that
I sat looking down into the river which flowed on as my years were flowing monotonous dark and slow—as they must flow on for ever John asked me what I was thinking of
Of myself what a fine specimen of the noble genus homo I am
I spoke bitterly but John knew how to meet that mood Very patient he was with it and with every ill mood of mine And I was grateful with that deep gratitude we feel to those who bear with us and forgive us and laugh at us and correct us—all alike for love
Selfinvestigation is good on birthdays Phineas here goes for a catalogue of your qualities internal and external
John dont be foolish
I will if I like though perhaps not quite so foolish as some other people so listen—Imprimis as saith Shakspeare—Imprimis height full five feet four a stature historically appertaining to great men including Alexander of Macedon and the First Consul
Oh oh said I reproachfully for this was our chief bone of contention—I hating he rather admiring the great ogre of the day Napoleon Bonaparte
Imprimis of a slight delicate person but not lame as once was
No thank God
Thin rather
Very—a mere skeleton
Face elongated and pale
Sallow John decidedly sallow
Be it so sallow Big eyes much given to observation which means hard staring Take them off me Phineas or Ill not lie on the grass a minute longer Thank you To return Imprimis and finis Im grand at Latin now you see—long hair which since the powder tax has resumed its original blackness and is—any young damsel would say only we count not a single one among our acquaintance—exceedingly bewitching
I smiled feeling myself colour a little too weak invalid as I was I was nevertheless twenty years old and although Jael and Sally were the only specimens of the other sex which had risen on my horizon yet once or twice since I had read Shakspeare I had had a boys lovely dreams of the divinity of womanhood They began and ended—mere dreams Soon dawned the bare hard truth that my character was too feeble and womanish to be likely to win any womans reverence or love Or even had this been possible one sickly as I was stricken with hereditary disease ought never to seek to perpetuate it by marriage I therefore put from me at once and for ever every feeling of that kind and during my whole life—I thank God—have never faltered in my resolution Friendship was given me for love—duty for happiness So best and I was satisfied
This conviction and the struggle succeeding it—for though brief it was but natural that it should have been a hard struggle—was the only secret that I had kept from John It had happened some months now and was quite over and gone so that I could smile at his fun and shake at him my bewitching black locks calling him a foolish boy And while I said it the notion slowly dawning during the long gaze he had complained of forced itself upon me clear as daylight that he was not a boy any longer
Now let me turn the tables How old are YOU John
You know Eighteen next week
And how tall
Five feet eleven inches and a half And rising he exhibited to its full advantage that very creditable altitude more tall perhaps than graceful at present since like most youths he did not as yet quite know what to do with his legs and arms But he was—
I cannot describe what he was I could not then I only remember that when I looked at him and began jocularly Imprimis my heart came up into my throat and choked me
It was almost with sadness that I said Ah David you are quite a young man now
He smiled of course only with pleasure looking forward to the new world into which he was going forth the world into which as I knew well I could never follow him
I am glad I look rather old for my years said he when after a pause he had again flung himself down on the grass It tells well in the tanyard People would be slow to trust a clerk who looked a mere boy Still your father trusts me
He does indeed You need never have any doubt of that It was only yesterday he said to me that now he was no longer dissatisfied with your working at all sorts of studies in leisure hours since it made you none the worse man of business
No I hope not or I should be much ashamed It would not be doing my duty to myself any more than to my master if I shirked his work for my own I am glad he does not complain now Phineas
On the contrary I think he intends to give you a rise this Midsummer But oh I cried recurring to a thought which would often come when I looked at the lad though he always combated it so strongly that I often owned my prejudices were unjust how I wish you were something better than a clerk in a tanyard I have a plan John
But what that plan was was fated to remain unrevealed Jael came to us in the garden looking very serious She had been summoned I knew to a long conference with her master the day before—the subject of which she would not tell me though she acknowledged it concerned myself Ever since she had followed me about very softly for her and called me more than once as when I was a child my dear She now came with halfdolorous halfangry looks to summon me to an interview with my father and Doctor Jessop
I caught her parting mutterings as she marched behind me Kill or cure indeed—No more fit than a baby—Abel Fletcher be clean mad—Hope Thomas Jessop will speak out plain and tell him so and the like From these and from her strange fit of tenderness I guessed what was looming in the distance—a future which my father constantly held in terrorem over me though successive illness had kept it in abeyance Alas I knew that my poor fathers hopes and plans were vain I went into his presence with a heavy heart
There is no need to detail that interview Enough that after it he set aside for ever his last lingering hope of having a son able to assist and finally succeed him in his business and that I set aside every dream of growing up to be a help and comfort to my father It cost something on both our parts but after that days discussion we tacitly covered over the pain and referred to it no more
I came back into the garden and told John Halifax all He listened with his hand on my shoulder and his grave sweet look—dearer sympathy than any words Though he added thereto a few in his own wise way then he and I also drew the curtain over an inevitable grief and laid it in the peaceful chamber of silence
When my father Dr Jessop John Halifax and I met at dinner the subject had passed into seeming oblivion and was never afterwards revived
But dinner being over and the chatty little doctor gone while Abel Fletcher sat mutely smoking his pipe and we two at the window maintained that respectful and decorous silence which in my young days was rigidly exacted by elders and superiors I noticed my fathers eyes frequently resting with keen observance upon John Halifax Could it be that there had recurred to him a hint of mine given faintly that morning as faintly as if it had only just entered my mind instead of having for months continually dwelt there until a fitting moment should arrive—Could it be that this hint which he had indignantly scouted at the time was germinating in his acute brain and might bear fruit in future days I hoped so—I earnestly prayed so And to that end I took no notice but let it silently grow
The June evening came and went The servicebell rang out and ceased First deep shadows and then a bright star appeared over the Abbeytower We watched it from the garden where Sunday after Sunday in fine weather we used to lounge and talk over all manner of things in heaven and in earth chiefly ending with the former as on Sunday nights with stars over our head was natural and fit we should do
Phineas said John sitting on the grass with his hands upon his knees and the one star I think it was Jupiter shining down into his eyes deepening them into that peculiar look worth any socalled handsome eyes—Phineas I wonder how soon we shall have to rise up from this quiet easy life and fight our battles in the world Also I wonder if we are ready for it
I think you are
I dont know Im not clear how far I could resist doing anything wrong if it were pleasant So many wrong things are pleasant—just now instead of rising tomorrow and going into the little dark countinghouse and scratching paper from eight till six shouldnt I like to break away—dash out into the world take to all sorts of wild freaks do all sorts of grand things and perhaps never come back to the tanning any more
Never any more
No no I spoke hastily I did not mean I ever should do such a wrong thing but merely that I sometimes feel the wish to do it I cant help it its my Apollyon that I have to fight with—everybody keeps a private Apollyon I fancy Now Phineas be content Apollyon is beaten down
He rose up but I thought that in the red glow of the twilight he looked rather pale He stretched his hand to help me up from the grass We went into the house together silently
After supper when the chimes struck halfpast nine John prepared to leave as usual He went to bid goodnight to my father who was sitting meditatively over the fireless hearthplace sometimes poking the great bowpot of fennel and asparagus as in winter he did the coals an instance of obliviousness which in my sensible and acute father argued very deep cogitation on some subject or other
Goodnight said John twice over before his master heard him
Eh—Oh goodnight goodnight lad Stay Halifax what hast thee got to do tomorrow
Not much unless the Russian hides should come in I cleared off the weeks accounts last night as usual
Ay tomorrow I shall look over all thy books and see how thee standst and what further work thou art fit for Therefore take a days holiday if thee likes
We thanked him warmly There John whispered I you may have your wish and run wild tomorrow
He said the wish had gone out of him So we planned a sweet lazy day under the Midsummer sky in some fields about a mile off called the Vineyards
The morning came and we took our way thither under the Abbey walls and along a lane shaded on one side by the willows in the watercourses We came out in those quiet hayfields which tradition says had once grown wine for the rosy monks close by and history avers were afterwards watered by a darker stream than the blood of grapes The Vineyards had been a battlefield and under the long wavy grass and the roots of the wild apple trees slept many a Yorkist and Lancastrian Sometimes an unusually deep furrow turned out a white bone—but more often the relics were undisturbed and the meadows used as pastures or hayfields
John and I lay down on some windrows and sunned ourselves in the warm and delicious air How beautiful everything was so very still with the Abbeytower—always the most picturesque point in our Norton Bury views—showing so near that it almost seemed to rise up out of the fields and hedgerows
Well David and I turned to the long lazy figure beside me which had considerably flattened the hay are you satisfied
Ay
Thus we lounged out all the summer morning recurring to a few of the infinitude of subjects we used to compare notes upon though we were neither of us given to wordiness and never talked but when we had something to say Often—as on this day—we sat for hours in a pleasant dreaminess scarcely exchanging a word nevertheless I could generally track Johns thoughts as they went wandering on ay as clearly as one might track a stream through a wood sometimes—like today—I failed
In the afternoon when we had finished our bread and cheese—eaten slowly and with graceful dignity in order to make dinner a more important and lengthy affair—he said abruptly—
Phineas dont you think this field is rather dull Shall we go somewhere else not if it tires you though
I protested the contrary my health being much above the average this summer But just as we were quitting the field we met two rather oddlooking persons entering it youngold persons they seemed who might own to any age or any occupation Their dress especially that of the younger amused us by its queer mixture of fashionableness and homeliness such as grey ribbed stockings and shining paste shoebuckles rusty velvet smallclothes and a coatee of blue cloth But the wearer carried off this anomalous costume with an easy condescending air full of pleasantness humour and grace
Sir said he approaching John Halifax with a bow that I feel sure the first gentleman of his day as loyal folk then entitled the Prince Regent could not have surpassed—Sir will you favour me by informing us how far it is to Coltham
Ten miles and the stage will pass here in three hours
Thank you at present I have little to do with the—at least with THAT stage Young gentlemen excuse our continuing our dessert in fact I may say our dinner Are you connoisseurs in turnips
He offered us—with a polite gesture—one of the swedes he was munching I declined but John out of a deeper delicacy than I could boast accepted it
One might dine worse he said I have done sometimes
It was a whim of mine sir But I am not the first remarkable person who has eaten turnips in your Norton Bury fields—ay and turned fieldpreacher afterwards—the celebrated John Philip—
Here the elder and less agreeable of the two wayfarers interposed with a nudge indicating silence
My companion is right sir he continued I will not betray our illustrious friend by mentioning his surname he is a great man now and might not wish it generally known that he had dined off turnips May I give you instead my own humble name
He gave it me but I Phineas Fletcher shall copy his reticence and not indulge the world therewith It was a name wholly out of my sphere both then and now but I know it has since risen into note among the people of the world I believe too its owner has carried up to the topmost height of celebrity always the gay gentlemanly spirit and kindly heart which he showed when sitting with us and eating swedes Still I will not mention his surname—I will only call him Mr Charles
Now having satisfactorily munched and munched and munched like the sailors wife who had chestnuts in her lap—are you acquainted with my friend Mr William Shakspeare young gentleman—I must try to fulfil the other duties of existence You said the Coltham mail passed here in three hours Very well I have the honour of wishing you a very good day Mr—
Halifax
And yours
Fletcher
Any connection with him who went partnership with the worthy Beaumont
My father has no partner sir said I But John whose reading had lately surpassed mine and whom nothing ever puzzled explained that I came from the same old stock as the brothers Phineas and Giles Fletcher Upon which Mr Charles who till now had somewhat overlooked me took off his hat and congratulated me on my illustrious descent
That man has evidently seen a good deal of the world said John smiling I wonder what the world is like
Did you not see something of it as a child
Only the worst and lowest side not the one I want to see now What business do you think that Mr Charles is A clever man anyhow I should like to see him again
So should I
Thus talking at intervals and speculating upon our new acquaintance we strolled along till we came to a spot called by the country people The Bloody Meadow from being like several other places in the neighbourhood the scene of one of those terrible slaughters chronicled in the wars of the Roses It was a sloping field through the middle of which ran a little stream down to the meadows end where fringed and hidden by a plantation of trees the Avon flowed Here too in all directions the hayfields lay either in green swathes or tedded or in the luxuriouslyscented quiles The lane was quite populous with waggons and haymakers—the men in their corduroys and blue hose—the women in their trim jackets and bright calamanco petticoats There were more women than men by far for the flower of the peasant youth of England had been drafted off to fight against Bonyparty Still haytime was a glorious season when half our little town turned out and made holiday in the sunshine
I think we will go to a quieter place John There seems a crowd down in the meadow and who is that man standing on the haycart on the other side the stream
Dont you remember the bright blue coat Tis Mr Charles How hes talking and gesticulating What can he be at
Without more ado John leaped the low hedge and ran down the slope of the Bloody Meadow I followed less quickly
There of a surety stood our new friend on one of the simplefashioned haycarts that we used about Norton Bury a low framework on wheels with a pole stuck at either of the four corners He was bareheaded and his hair hung in graceful curls well powdered I only hope he had honestly paid the tax which we were all then exclaiming against—so fondly does custom cling to deformity Despite the powder the blue coat and the shabby velvet breeches Mr Charles was a very handsome and strikinglooking man No wonder the poor haymakers had collected from all parts to hear him harangue
What was he haranguing upon Could it be that like his friend John Philip whoever that personage might be his vocation was that of a field preacher It seemed like it especially judging from the sanctified demeanour of the elder and inferior person who accompanied him and who sat in the front of the cart and folded his hands and groaned after the most approved fashion of a methodistical revival
We listened expecting every minute to be disgusted and shocked but no I must say this for Mr Charles that in no way did he trespass the bounds of reverence and decorum His harangue though given as a sermon was strictly and simply a moral essay such as might have emanated from any professors chair In fact as I afterwards learnt he had given for his text one which the simple rustics received in all respect as coming from a higher and holier volume than Shakspeare—
Mercy is twice blessed
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
Tis mightiest in the mightiest
And on that text did he dilate gradually warming with his subject till his gestures—which at first had seemed burthened with a queer constraint that now and then resulted in an irrepressible twitch of the corners of his flexible mouth—became those of a man beguiled into real earnestness We of Norton Bury had never heard such eloquence
Who CAN he be John Isnt it wonderful
But John never heard me His whole attention was riveted on the speaker Such oratory—a compound of graceful action polished language and brilliant imagination came to him as a positive revelation a revelation from the world of intellect the world which he longed after with all the ardour of youth
What that harangue would have seemed like could we have heard it with maturer ears I know not but at eighteen and twenty it literally dazzled us No wonder it affected the rest of the audience Feeble men leaning on forks and rakes shook their old heads sagely as if they understood it all And when the speaker alluded to the horrors of war—a subject which then came so bitterly home to every heart in Britain—many women melted into sobs and tears At last when the orator himself moved by the pictures he had conjured up paused suddenly quite exhausted and asked for a slight contribution to help a deed of charity there was a general rush towards him
No—no my good people said Mr Charles recovering his natural manner though a little clouded I thought by a faint shade of remorse no I will not take from any one more than a penny and then only if they are quite sure they can spare it Thank you my worthy man Thanks my bonny young lass—I hope your sweetheart will soon be back from the wars Thank you all my very worthy and approved good masters and a fair harvest to you
He bowed them away in a dignified and graceful manner still standing on the haycart The honest folk trooped off having no more time to waste and left the field in possession of Mr Charles his comate and ourselves whom I do not think he had as yet noticed
He descended from the cart His companion burst into roars of laughter but Charles looked grave
Poor honest souls said he wiping his brows—I am not sure that it was only his brows—Hang me if Ill be at this trick again Yates
It was a trick then sir said John advancing I am sorry for it
So am I young man returned the other no way disconcerted indeed he seemed a person whose frank temper nothing could disconcert But starvation is—excuse me—unpleasant and necessity has no law It is of vital consequence that I should reach Coltham tonight and after walking twenty miles one cannot easily walk ten more and afterwards appear as Macbeth to an admiring audience
You are an actor
I am please your worship—
A poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is seen no more
There was inexpressible pathos in his tone and his fine face looked thin and worn—it did not take much to soften both Johns feelings and mine towards the poor player Besides we had lately been studying Shakspeare who for the first time of reading generally sends all young people tragedymad
You acted well today said John all the folk here took you for a methodist preacher
Yet I never meddled with theology—only common morality You cannot say I did
John thought a moment and then answered—
No But what put the scheme into your head
The fact that under a like necessity the same amusing play was played out here years ago as I told you by John Philip—no I will not conceal his name the greatest actor and the truest gentleman our English stage has ever seen—John Philip Kemble
And he raised his hat with sincere reverence We too had heard—at least John had—of this wonderful man
I saw the fascination of Mr Charless society was strongly upon him It was no wonder More brilliant more versatile talent I never saw He turned from grave to gay from lively to severe—appearing in all phases like the gentleman the scholar and the man of the world And neither John nor I had ever met any one of these characters all so irresistibly alluring at our age
I say OUR because though I followed where he led I always did it of my own will likewise
The afternoon began to wane while we with our two companions yet sat talking by the brookside Mr Charles had washed his face and his travelsore blistered feet and we had induced him and the man he called Yates to share our remnants of bread and cheese
Now he said starting up I am ready to do battle again even with the Thane of Fife—who tonight is one Johnson a fellow of six feet and twelve stone What is the hour Mr Halifax
Mr Halifax—I felt pleased to hear him for the first time so entitled—had unfortunately no watch among his worldly possessions and candidly owned the fact But he made a near guess by calculating the position of his unfailing timepiece the sun—It was four oclock
Then I must go Will you not retract young gentlemen Surely you would not lose such a rare treat as Macbeth with—I will not say my humble self—but with that divine Siddons Such a woman Shakspeare himself might lean out of Elysium to watch her You will join us
John made a silent dolorous negative as he had done once or twice before when the actor urged us to accompany him to Coltham for a few hours only—we might be back by midnight easily
What do you think Phineas said John when we stood in the highroad waiting for the coach I have money—and—we have so little pleasure—we would send word to your father Do you think it would be wrong
I could not say and to this minute viewing the question nakedly in a strict and moral sense I cannot say either whether or no it was an absolute crime therefore being accustomed to read my wrong or right in Davids eyes I remained perfectly passive
We waited by the hedgeside for several minutes—Mr Charles ceased his urging half in dudgeon save that he was too pleasant a man really to take offence at anything His conversation was chiefly directed to me John took no part therein but strolled about plucking at the hedge
When the stage appeared down the winding of the road I was utterly ignorant of what he meant us to do or if he had any definite purpose at all
It came—the coachman was hailed Mr Charles shook hands with us and mounted—paying his own fare and that of Yates with their handful of charitypennies which caused a few minutes delay in counting and a great deal of goodhumoured joking as goodhumouredly borne
Meanwhile John put his two hands on my shoulders and looked hard into my face—his was slightly flushed and excited I thought
Phineas are you tired
Not at all
Do you feel strong enough to go to Coltham Would it do you no harm Would you LIKE to go
To all these hurried questions I answered with as hurried an affirmative It was sufficient to me that he evidently liked to go
It is only for once—your father would not grudge us the pleasure and he is too busy to be out of the tanyard before midnight We will be home soon after then if I carry you on my back all the ten miles Come mount well go
Bravo cried Mr Charles and leaned over to help me up the coachs side John followed and the crisis was past
But I noticed that for several miles he hardly spoke one word
CHAPTER VI
Near as we lived to Coltham I had only been there once in my life but John Halifax knew the town pretty well having latterly in addition to his clerkship been employed by my father in going about the neighbourhood buying bark I was amused when the coach stopped at an inn which bore the ominous sign of the Fleece to see how well accustomed he seemed to be to the ways of the place He deported himself with perfect selfpossession the waiter served him respectfully He had evidently taken his position in the world—at least our little world—he was no longer a boy but a man I was glad to see it leaving everything in his hands I lay down where he placed me in the inn parlour and watched him giving his orders and walking about Sometimes I thought his eyes were restless and unquiet but his manner was as composed as usual
Mr Charles had left us appointing a meeting at Coffeehouse Yard where the theatre then was
A poor barnlike place I believe said John stopping in his walk up and down the room to place my cushions more easy they should build a new one now Coltham is growing up into such a fashionable town I wish I could take you to see the Wellwalk with all the fine people promenading But you must rest Phineas
I consented being indeed rather weary
You will like to see Mrs Siddons whom we have so often talked about She is not young now Mr Charles says but magnificent still She first came out in this same theatre more than twenty years ago Yates saw her I wonder Phineas if your father ever did
Oh no my father would not enter a playhouse for the world
What
Nay John you need not look so troubled You know he did not bring me up in the Society and its restrictions are not binding upon me
True true And he resumed his walk but not his cheerfulness If it were myself alone now of course what I myself hold to be a lawful pleasure I have a right to enjoy or if not being yet a lad and under a master—well I will bear the consequences added he rather proudly but to share them—Phineas turning suddenly to me would you like to go home—Ill take you
I protested earnestly against any such thing told him I was sure we were doing nothing wrong—which was indeed my belief entreated him to be merry and enjoy himself and succeeded so well that in a few minutes we had started in a flutter of gaiety and excitement for Coffeehouse Yard
It was a poor place—little better than a barn as Mr Charles had said—built in a lane leading out of the principal street This lane was almost blocked up with playgoers of all ranks and in all sorts of equipages from the coachandsix to the sedanchair mingled with a motley crowd on foot all jostling fighting and screaming till the place became a complete beargarden
Oh John take care and I clung to his arm
Never mind Im big enough and strong enough for any crowd Hold on Phineas If I had been a woman and the woman that he loved he could not have been more tender over my weakness The physical weakness—which however humiliating to myself and doubtless contemptible in most mens eyes—was yet dealt by the hand of Heaven and as such regarded by John only with compassion
The crowd grew denser and more formidable I looked beyond it up towards the low hills that rose in various directions round the town how green and quiet they were in the still June evening I only wished we were safe back again at Norton Bury
But now there came a slight swaying in the crowd as a sedanchair was borne through—or attempted to be—for the effort failed There was a scuffle one of the bearers was knocked down and hurt Some cried shame others seemed to think this incident only added to the frolic At last in the midst of the confusion a lady put her head out of the sedan and gazed around her
It was a remarkable countenance once seen you could never forget it Pale rather large and hard in outline an aquiline nose—full passionate yet sensitive lips—and very dark eyes She spoke and the voice belonged naturally to such a face Good people let me pass—I am Sarah Siddons
The crowd divided instantaneously and in moving set up a cheer that must have rang through all the town There was a minutes pause while she bowed and smiled—such a smile—and then the sedan curtain closed
Nows the time—only hold fast to me whispered John as he sprang forward dragging me after him In another second he had caught up the pole dropped by the man who was hurt and before I well knew what we were about we both stood safe inside the entrance of the theatre
Mrs Siddons stepped out and turned to pay her bearers—a most simple action—but so elevated in the doing that even it I thought could not bring her to the level of common humanity The tall cloaked and hooded figure and the tones that issued thence made her even in that narrow passage under the one flaring tallowcandle a veritable Queen of tragedy—at least so she seemed to us two
The one man was paid—overpaid apparently from his thankfulness—and she turned to John Halifax
I regret young man that you should have had so much trouble Here is some requital
He took the money selected from it one silver coin and returned the rest
I will keep this madam if you please as a memento that I once had the honour of being useful to Mrs Siddons
She looked at him keenly out of her wonderful dark eyes then curtsied with grave dignity—I thank you sir she said and passed on
A few minutes after some underling of the theatre found us out and brought us by Mrs Siddons desire to the best places the house could afford
It was a glorious night At this distance of time when I look back upon it my old blood leaps and burns I repeat it was a glorious night
Before the curtain rose we had time to glance about us on that scene to both entirely new—the inside of a theatre Shabby and small as the place was it was filled with all the beau monde of Coltham which then patronized by royalty rivalled even Bath in its fashion and folly Such a dazzle of diamonds and spangled turbans and PrinceofWales plumes Such an odd mingling of costume which was then in a transition state the old ladies clinging tenaciously to the stately silken petticoats and long bodices surmounted by the prim and decent bouffantes while the younger belles had begun to flaunt in the French fashions of flimsy muslins shortwaisted—narrowskirted These we had already heard Jael furiously inveighing against for Jael Quakeress as she was could not quite smother her original propensity towards the decoration of the flesh and betrayed a suppressed but profound interest in the same
John and I quite agreed with her that it was painful to see gentle English girls clad or rather unclad after the fashion of our enemies across the Channel now unhappy nation sunk to zero in politics religion and morals—where highbred ladies went about dressed as heathen goddesses with bare arms and bare sandalled feet gaining none of the pure simplicity of the ancient world and losing all the decorous dignity of our modern times
We two—who had all a boys mysterious reverence for womanhood in its most ideal most beautiful form and who I believe were in our ignorance expecting to behold in every woman an Imogen a Juliet or a Desdemona—felt no particular attraction towards the ungracefully attired flaunting simpering belles of Coltham
But—the play began
I am not going to follow it all the world has heard of the Lady Macbeth of Mrs Siddons This the first and last play I ever witnessed stands out to my memory after more than half a century as clear as on that night Still I can see her in her first scene reading a letter—that wondrous woman who in spite of her modern black velvet and point lace did not act but WAS Lady Macbeth still I hear the awestruck questioning weirdlike tone that sent an involuntary shudder through the house as if supernatural things were abroad—THEY MADE THEMSELVES—AIR And still there quivers through the silence that piteous cry of a strong heart broken—ALL THE PERFUMES OF ARABIA WILL NEVER SWEETEN THIS LITTLE HAND
Well she is gone like the brief three hours when we hung on her every breath as if it could stay even the wheels of time But they have whirled on—whirled her away with them into the infinite and into earthly oblivion People tell me that a new generation only smiles at the traditional glory of Sarah Siddons They never saw her For me I shall go down to the grave worshipping her still
Of him whom I call Mr Charles I have little to say John and I both smiled when we saw his fine frank face and manly bearing subdued into that poor whining sentimental craven the stage Macbeth Yet I believe he acted it well But we irresistibly associated his idea with that of turnip munching and haycart oratory And when during the first colloquy of Banquo with the witches Macbeth took the opportunity of winking privately at us over the footlights all the paraphernalia of the stage failed to make the murderous Thane of Cawdor aught else than our humorous and goodnatured Mr Charles I never saw him after that night He is still living—may his old age have been as peaceful as his youth was kind and gay
The play ended There was some buffoonery still to come but we would not stay for that We staggered halfblind and dazzled both in eyes and brain out into the dark streets John almost carrying me Then we paused and leaning against a post which was surmounted by one of the halfdozen oil lamps which illumined the town tried to regain our mental equilibrium
John was the first to do it Passing his hand over his brow he bared it to the fresh nightair and drew a deep hard breath He was very pale I saw
John
He turned and laid a hand on my shoulder What did you say Are you cold
No He put his arm so as to shield the wind from me nevertheless
Well said he after a pause we have had our pleasure and it is over Now we must go back to the old ways again I wonder what oclock it is
He was answered by a church clock striking heard clearly over the silent town I counted the strokes—ELEVEN
Horrified we looked at one another by the light of the lamp Until this minute we had taken no note of time Eleven oclock How should we get home to Norton Bury that night
For now the excitement was over I turned sick and faint my limbs almost sank under me
What must we do John
Do oh tis quite easy You cannot walk—you shall not walk—we must hire a gig and drive home I have enough money—all my months wages—see He felt in his pockets one after the other his countenance grew blank Why where is my money gone to
Where indeed But that it was gone and irretrievably—most likely stolen when we were so wedged in the crowd—there could be no manner of doubt And I had not a groat I had little use for money and rarely carried any
Would not somebody trust us suggested I
I never asked anybody for credit in my life—and for a horse and gig—theyd laugh at me Still—yes—stay here a minute and Ill try
He came back though not immediately and took my arm with a reckless laugh
Its of no use Phineas—Im not so respectable as I thought Whats to be done
Ay what indeed Here we were two friendless youths with not a penny in our pockets and ten miles away from home How to get there and at midnight too was a very serious question We consulted a minute and then John said firmly
We must make the best of it and start Every instant is precious Your father will think we have fallen into some harm Come Phineas Ill help you on
His strong cheery voice added to the necessity of the circumstances braced up my nerves I took hold of his arm and we marched on bravely through the shutup town and for a mile or two along the highroad leading to Norton Bury There was a cool fresh breeze and I often think one can walk so much further by night than by day For some time listening to Johns talk about the stars—he had lately added astronomy to the many things he tried to learn—and recalling with him all that we had heard and seen this day I hardly felt my weariness
But gradually it grew upon me my pace lagged slower and slower—even the scented air of the midsummernight imparted no freshness John wound his young arm strong and firm as iron round my waist and we got on awhile in that way
Keep up Phineas Theres a hayrick near Ill wrap you in my coat and you shall rest there an hour or two will not matter now—we shall get home by daybreak
I feebly assented but it seemed to me that we never should get home—at least I never should For a short way more I dragged myself—or rather was dragged—along then the stars the shadowy fields and the winding white highroad mingled and faded from me I lost all consciousness
When I came to myself I was lying by a tiny brook at the roadside my head resting on Johns knees He was bathing my forehead I could not see him but I heard his smothered moan
David dont mind I shall be well directly
Oh Phineas—Phineas I thought I had killed you
He said no more but I fancied that under cover of the night he yielded to what his manhood might have been ashamed of—yet need not—a few tears
I tried to rise There was a faint streak in the east Why it is daybreak How far are we from Norton Bury
Not very far Dont stir a step I shall carry you
Impossible
Nonsense I have done it for halfamile already Come mount I am not going to have Jonathans death laid at Davids door
And so masking command with a jest he had his way What strength supported him I cannot tell but he certainly carried me—with many rests between and pauses during which I walked a quarter of a mile or so—the whole way to Norton Bury
The light broadened and broadened When we reached my fathers door haggard and miserable it was in the pale sunshine of a summer morning
Thank God murmured John as he set me down at the foot of the steps You are safe at home
And you You will come in—you would not leave me now
He thought a moment—then said No
We looked up doubtfully at the house there were no watchers there All the windows were closed as if the whole peaceful establishment were taking its sleep prior to the early stirring of Norton Bury households Even Johns loud knocking was some time before it was answered
I was too exhausted to feel much but I know those five awful minutes seemed interminable I could not have borne them save for Johns voice in my ear
Courage Ill bear all the blame We have committed no absolute sin and have paid dearly for any folly Courage
At the five minutes end my father opened the door He was dressed as usual looked as usual Whether he had sat up watching or had suffered any anxiety I never found out
He said nothing merely opened the door admitted us and closed it behind us But we were certain from his face that he knew all It was so some neighbour driving home from Coltham had taken pains to tell Abel Fletcher where he had seen his son—at the very last place a Friends son ought to be seen—the playhouse We knew that it was by no means to learn the truth but to confront us with it that my father—reaching the parlour and opening the shutters that the hard daylight should shame us more and more—asked the stern question—
Phineas where hast thee been
John answered for me At the theatre at Coltham It was my fault He went because I wished to go
And wherefore didst thee wish to go
Wherefore the answer seemed hard to find Oh Mr Fletcher were you never young like me
My father made no reply John gathered courage
It was as I say all my fault It might have been wrong—I think now that it was—but the temptation was hard My life here is dull I long sometimes for a little amusement—a little change
Thee shall have it
That voice slow and quiet as it was struck us both dumb
And how long hast thee planned this John Halifax
Not a day—not an hour it was a sudden freak of mine My father shook his head with contemptuous incredulity Sir—Abel Fletcher—did I ever tell you a lie If you will not believe me believe your own son Ask Phineas—No no ask him nothing And he came in great distress to the sofa where I had fallen Oh Phineas how cruel I have been to you
I tried to smile at him being past speaking—but my father put John aside
Young man I can take care of my son Thee shalt not lead him into harms way any more Go—I have been mistaken in thee
If my father had gone into a passion had accused us reproached us and stormed at us with all the illlanguage that men of the world use but that quiet cold irrevocable I have been mistaken in thee was ten times worse
John lifted to him a mute look from which all pride had ebbed away
I repeat I have been mistaken in thee Thee seemed a lad to my mind I trusted thee This day by my sons wish I meant to have bound thee prentice to me and in good time to have taken thee into the business Now—
There was silence At last John muttered in a low brokenhearted voice I deserve it all I can go away I might perhaps earn my living elsewhere shall I
Abel Fletcher hesitated looked at the poor lad before him oh David how unlike to thee then said No—I do not wish that At least not at present
I cried out in the joy and relief of my heart John came over to me and we clasped hands
John you will not go
No I will stay to redeem my character with your father Be content Phineas—I wont part with you
Young man thou must said my father turning round
But—
I have said it Phineas I accuse him of no dishonesty no crime but of weakly yielding and selfishly causing another to yield to the temptation of the world Therefore as my clerk I retain him as my sons companion—never
We felt that never was irrevocable
Yet I tried blindly and despairingly to wrestle with it I might as well have flung myself against a stone wall
John stood perfectly silent
Dont Phineas he whispered at last never mind me Your father is right—at least so far as he sees Let me go—perhaps I may come back to you some time If not—
I moaned out bitter words—I hardly knew what I was saying My father took no notice of them only went to the door and called Jael
Then before the woman came I had strength enough to bid John go
Goodbye—dont forget me dont
I will not he said and if I live we shall be friends again Goodbye Phineas He was gone
After that day though he kept his word and remained in the tanyard and though from time to time I heard of him—always accidentally—after that day for two long years I never once saw the face of John Halifax
CHAPTER VII
It was the year 1800 long known in English households as the dear year The present generation can have no conception of what a terrible time that was—War Famine and Tumult stalking handinhand and no one to stay them For between the upper and lower classes there was a great gulf fixed the rich ground the faces of the poor the poor hated yet meanly succumbed to the rich Neither had Christianity enough boldly to cross the line of demarcation and prove the humbler that they were men—the higher and wiser that they were gentlemen
These troubles which were everywhere abroad reached us even in our quiet town of Norton Bury For myself personally they touched me not or at least only kept fluttering like evil birds outside the dear hometabernacle where I and Patience sat keeping our solemn counsel together—for these two years had with me been very hard
Though I had to bear so much bodily suffering that I was seldom told of any worldly cares still I often fancied things were going ill both within and without our doors Jael complained in an underkey of stinted housekeeping or boasted aloud of her own ingenuity in making ends meet and my fathers brow grew continually heavier graver sterner sometimes so stern that I dared not wage what was openly or secretly the quiet but incessant crusade of my existence—the bringing back of John Halifax
He still remained my fathers clerk—nay I sometimes thought he was even advancing in duties and trusts for I heard of his being sent long journeys up and down England to buy grain—Abel Fletcher having added to his tanning business the flourmill hard by whose lazy whirr was so familiar to John and me in our boyhood But of these journeys my father never spoke indeed he rarely mentioned John at all However he might employ and even trust him in business relations I knew that in every other way he was inexorable
And John Halifax was as inexorable as he No underhand or clandestine friendship would he admit—no not even for my sake I knew quite well that until he could walk in openly honourably proudly he never would reenter my fathers doors Twice only he had written to me—on my two birthdays—my father himself giving me in silence the unsealed letters They told me what I already was sure of—that I held and always should hold my steadfast place in his friendship Nothing more
One other fact I noticed that a little lad afterward discovered to be Jem Watkins to whom had fallen the hardworking lot of the lost Bill had somehow crept into our household as errandboy or gardeners boy and being cute and a scholard was greatly patronized by Jael I noticed too that the said Jem whenever he came in my way in house or garden was the most capital little footpage that ever invalid had knowing intuitively all my needs and serving me with an unfailing devotion which quite surprised and puzzled me at the time It did not afterwards
Summer was passing People began to watch with anxious looks the thin harvestfields—as Jael often told me when she came home from her afternoon walks It was piteous to see them she said only July and the quartern loaf nearly three shillings and meal four shillings a peck
And then she would glance at our flourmill where for several days a week the waterwheel was as quiet as on Sundays for my father kept his grain locked up waiting for what he wisely judged might be a worse harvest than the last But Jael though she said nothing often looked at the flourmill and shook her head And after one marketday—when she came in rather flustered saying there had been a mob outside the mill until that young man Halifax had gone out and spoken to them—she never once allowed me to take my rare walk under the trees in the Abbeyyard nor if she could help it would she even let me sit watching the lazy Avon from the gardenwall
One Sunday—it was the 1st of August for my father had just come back from meeting very much later than usual and Jael said he had gone as was his annual custom on that his weddingday to the Friends burial ground in St Marys Lane where far away from her own kindred and people my poor young mother had been laid—on this one Sunday I began to see that things were going wrong Abel Fletcher sat at dinner wearing the heavy hard look which had grown upon his face not unmingled with the wrinkles planted by physical pain For with all his temperance he could not quite keep down his hereditary enemy gout and this week it had clutched him pretty hard
Dr Jessop came in and I stole away gladly enough and sat for an hour in my old place in the garden idly watching the stretch of meadow pasture and harvest land Noticing too more as a pretty bit in the landscape than as a fact of vital importance in how many places the halfripe corn was already cut and piled in thinlyscattered sheaves over the fields
After the doctor left my father sent for me and all his household in the which creeping humbly after the womankind was now numbered the lad Jem That Abel Fletcher was not quite himself was proved by the fact that his unlighted pipe lay on the table and his afternoon tankard of ale sank from foam to flatness untouched
He first addressed Jael Woman was it thee who cooked the dinner today
She gave a dignified affirmative
Thee must give us no more such dinners No cakes no pastry kickshaws and only wheaten bread enough for absolute necessity Our neighbours shall not say that Abel Fletcher has flour in his mill and plenty in his house while there is famine abroad in the land So take heed
I do take heed answered Jael staunchly Thee canst not say I waste a penny of thine And for myself do I not pity the poor On Firstday a woman cried after me about wasting good flour in starch—today behold
And with a spasmodic bridlingup she pointed to the bouffante which used to stand up stiffly round her withered old throat and stick out in front like a pouter pigeon Alas its glory and starch were alike departed it now appeared nothing but a heap of crumpled and yellowish muslin Poor Jael I knew this was the most heroic personal sacrifice she could have made yet I could not help smiling even my father did the same
Dost thee mock me Abel Fletcher cried she angrily Preach not to others while the sin lies on thy own head
And I am sure poor Jael was innocent of any jocular intention as advancing sternly she pointed to her masters pate where his longworn powder was scarcely distinguishable from the snows of age He bore the assault gravely and unshrinkingly merely saying Woman peace
Nor while—pursued Jael driven apparently to the last and most poisoned arrow in her quiver of wrath—while the poor folk be starving in scores about Norton Bury and the rich folk there will not sell their wheat under famine price Take heed to thyself Abel Fletcher
My father winced either from a twinge of gout or conscience and then Jael suddenly ceased the attack sent the other servants out of the room and tended her master as carefully as if she had not insulted him In his fits of gout my father unlike most men became the quieter and easier to manage the more he suffered He had a long fit of pain which left him considerably exhausted When being at last relieved he and I were sitting in the room alone he said to me—
Phineas the tanyard has thriven ill of late and I thought the mill would make up for it But if it will not it will not Wouldst thee mind my son being left a little poor when I am gone
Father
Well then in a few days I will begin selling my wheat as that lad has advised and begged me to do these weeks past He is a sharp lad and I am getting old Perhaps he is right
Who father I asked rather hypocritically
Thee knowest well enough—John Halifax
I thought it best to say no more but I never let go one thread of hope which could draw me nearer to my hearts desire
On the Monday morning my father went to the tanyard as usual I spent the day in my bedroom which looked over the garden where I saw nothing but the waving of the trees and the birds hopping over the smooth grass heard nothing but the soft chime hour after hour of the Abbey bells What was passing in the world in the town or even in the next street was to me faint as dreams
At dinnertime I rose went downstairs and waited for my father waited one two three hours It was very strange He never by any chance overstayed his time without sending a message home So after some consideration as to whether I dared encroach upon his formal habits so much and after much advice from Jael who betrayed more anxiety than was at all warranted by the cause she assigned viz the spoiled dinner I despatched Jem Watkins to the tanyard to see after his master
He came back with ill news The lane leading to the tanyard was blocked up with a wild mob Even the stolid starved patience of our Norton Bury poor had come to an end at last—they had followed the example of many others There was a breadriot in the town
God only knows how terrible those riots were when the people rose in desperation not from some delusion of crazy bloodthirsty patriotism but to get food for themselves their wives and children God only knows what madness was in each individual heart of that concourse of poor wretches styled the mob when every man took up arms certain that there were before him but two alternatives starving or—hanging
The riot here was scarcely universal Norton Bury was not a large place and had always abundance of smallpox and fevers to keep the poor down numerically Jem said it was chiefly about our mill and our tanyard that the disturbance lay
And where is my father
Jem didnt know and looked very much as if he didnt care
Jael somebody must go at once and find my father
I am going said Jael who had already put on her cloak and hood Of course despite all her opposition I went too
The tanyard was deserted the mob had divided and gone one half to our mill the rest to another that was lower down the river I asked of a poor frightened barkcutter if she knew where my father was She thought he was gone for the millingtary but Mr Halifax was at the mill now—she hoped no harm would come to Mr Halifax
Even in that moment of alarm I felt a sense of pleasure I had not been in the tanyard for nearly three years I did not know John had come already to be called Mr Halifax
There was nothing for me but to wait here till my father returned He could not surely be so insane as to go to the mill—and John was there Terribly was my heart divided but my duty lay with my father
Jael sat down in the shed or marched restlessly between the tanpits I went to the end of the yard and looked down towards the mill What a halfhour it was
At last exhausted I sat down on the bark heap where John and I had once sat as lads He must now be more than twenty I wondered if he were altered
Oh David David I thought as I listened eagerly for any sounds abroad in the town what should I do if any harm came to thee
This minute I heard a footstep crossing the yard No it was not my fathers—it was firmer quicker younger I sprang from the barkheap
Phineas
John
What a grasp that was—both hands and how fondly and proudly I looked up in his face—the still boyish face But the figure was quite that of a man now
For a minute we forgot ourselves in our joy and then he let go my hands saying hurriedly—
Where is your father
I wish I knew—Gone for the soldiers they say
No not that—he would never do that I must go and look for him Goodbye
Nay dear John
Cant—cant said he firmly not while your father forbids I must go And he was gone
Though my heart rebelled my conscience defended him marvelling how it was that he who had never known his father should uphold so sternly the duty of filial obedience I think it ought to act as a solemn warning to those who exact so much from the mere fact and name of parenthood without having in any way fulfilled its duties that orphans from birth often revere the ideal of that bond far more than those who have known it in reality Always excepting those children to whose blessed lot it has fallen to have the ideal realized
In a few minutes I saw him and my father enter the tanyard together He was talking earnestly and my father was listening—ay listening—and to John Halifax But whatever the argument was it failed to move him Greatly troubled but staunch as a rock my old father stood resting his lame foot on a heap of hides I went to meet him
Phineas said John anxiously come and help me No Abel Fletcher he added rather proudly in reply to a sharp suspicious glance at us both your son and I only met ten minutes ago and have scarcely exchanged a word But we cannot waste time over that matter now Phineas help me to persuade your father to save his property He will not call for the aid of the law because he is a Friend Besides for the same reason it might be useless asking
Verily said my father with a bitter and meaning smile
But he might get his own men to defend his property and need not do what he is bent on doing—go to the mill himself
Surely was all Abel Fletcher said planting his oaken stick firmly as firmly as his will and taking his way to the riverside in the direction of the mill
I caught his arm—Father dont go
My son said he turning on me one of his iron looks as I used to call them—tokens of a nature that might have ran molten once and had settled into a hard moulded mass of which nothing could afterwards alter one form or erase one line—My son no opposition Any who try that with me fail If those fellows had waited two days more I would have sold all my wheat at a hundred shillings the quarter now they shall have nothing It will teach them wisdom another time Get thee safe home Phineas my son Jael go thou likewise
But neither went John held me back as I was following my father
He will do it Phineas and I suppose he must Please God Ill take care no harm touches him—but you go home
That was not to be thought of Fortunately the time was too brief for argument so the discussion soon ended He followed my father and I followed him For Jael she disappeared
There was a private path from the tanyard to the mill along the riverside by this we went in silence When we reached the spot it was deserted but further down the river we heard a scuffling and saw a number of men breaking down our garden wall
They think he is gone home whispered John well get in here the safer Quick Phineas
We crossed the little bridge John took a key out of his pocket and let us into the mill by a small door—the only entrance and that was barred and trebly barred within It had good need to be in such times
The mill was a queer musty silent place especially the machinery room the sole flooring of which was the dark dangerous stream We stood there a good while—it was the safest place having no windows Then we followed my father to the top story where he kept his bags of grain There were very many enough in these times to make a large fortune by—a cursed fortune wrung out of human lives
Oh how could my father—
Hush whispered John it was for his sons sake you know
But while we stood and with a meaning but rather grim smile Abel Fletcher counted his bags worth almost as much as bags of gold—we heard a hammering at the door below The rioters were come
Miserable rioters—A handful of weak starved men—pelting us with stones and words One pistolshot might have routed them all—but my fathers doctrine of nonresistance forbade Small as their force seemed there was something at once formidable and pitiful in the low howl that reached us at times
Bring out the bags—Us mun have bread
Throw down thy corn Abel Fletcher
Abel Fletcher WILL throw it down to ye ye knaves said my father leaning out of the upper window while a sound half curses half cheers of triumph answered him from below
That is well exclaimed John eagerly Thank you—thank you Mr Fletcher—I knew you would yield at last
Didst thee lad said my father stopping short
Not because they forced you—not to save your life—but because it was right
Help me with this bag was all the reply
It was a great weight but not too great for Johns young arm nervous and strong He hauled it up
Now open the window—dash the panes through—it matters not On to the window I tell thee
But if I do the bag will fall into the river You cannot—oh no—you cannot mean that
Haul it up to the window John Halifax
But John remained immovable
I must do it myself then and in the desperate effort he made somehow the bag of grain fell and fell on his lame foot Tortured into frenzy with the pain—or else I will still believe my old father would not have done such a deed—his failing strength seemed doubled and trebled In an instant more he had got the bag half through the window and the next sound we heard was its heavy splash in the river below
Flung into the river the precious wheat and in the very sight of the famished rioters A howl of fury and despair arose Some plunged into the water ere the eddies left by the falling mass had ceased—but it was too late A sharp substance in the rivers bed had cut the bag and we saw thrown up to the surface and whirled down the Avon thousands of dancing grains A few of the men swam or waded after them clutching a handful here or there—but by the millpool the river ran swift and the wheat had all soon disappeared except what remained in the bag when it was drawn on shore Over even that they fought like demons
We could not look at them—John and I He put his hand over his eyes muttering the Name that young man as he was I had never yet heard irreverently and thoughtlessly on his lips It was a sight that would move any one to cry for pity unto the Great Father of the human family
Abel Fletcher sat on his remaining bags in an exhaustion that I think was not all physical pain The paroxysm of anger past he ever a just man could not fail to be struck with what he had done He seemed subdued even to something like remorse
John looked at him and looked away For a minute he listened in silence to the shouting outside and then turned to my father
Sir you must come now Not a second to lose—they will fire the mill next
Let them
Let them—and Phineas is here
My poor father He rose at once
We got him downstairs—he was very lame—his ruddy face all drawn and white with pain but he did not speak one word of opposition or utter a groan of complaint
The flourmill was built on piles in the centre of the narrow river It was only a few steps of bridgework to either bank The little door was on the Norton Bury side and was hid from the opposite shore where the rioters had now collected In a minute we had crept forth and dashed out of sight in the narrow path which had been made from the mill to the tanyard
Will you take my arm we must get on fast
Home said my father as John led him passively along
No sir not home they are there before you Your lifes not safe an hour—unless indeed you get soldiers to guard it
Abel Fletcher gave a decided negative The stern old Quaker held to his principles still
Then you must hide for a time—both of you Come to my room You will be secure there Urge him Phineas—for your sake and his own
But my poor brokendown father needed no urging Grasping more tightly both Johns arm and mine which for the first time in his life he leaned upon he submitted to be led whither we chose So after this long interval of time I once more stood in Sally Watkins small attic where ever since I first brought him there John Halifax had lived
Sally knew not of our entrance she was out watching the rioters No one saw us but Jem and Jems honour was safe as a rock I knew that in the smile with which he pulled off his cap to Mr Halifax
Now said John hastily smoothing his bed so that my father might lie down and wrapping his cloak round me—you must both be very still You will likely have to spend the night here Jem shall bring you a light and supper You will make yourself easy Abel Fletcher
Ay It was strange to see how decidedly yet respectfully John spoke and how quietly my father answered
And Phineas—he put his arm round my shoulder in his old way—you will take care of yourself Are you any stronger than you used to be
I clasped his hand without reply My heart melted to hear that tender accent so familiar once All was happening for the best if it only gave me back David
Now goodbye—I must be off
Whither said my father rousing himself
To try and save the house and the tanyard—I fear we must give up the mill No dont hold me Phineas I run no risk everybody knows me Besides I am young There see after your father I shall come back in good time
He grasped my hands warmly—then unloosed them and I heard his step descending the staircase The room seemed to darken when he went away
The evening passed very slowly My father exhausted with pain lay on the bed and dozed I sat watching the sky over the housetops which met in the old angles with the same blue peeps between I half forgot all the days events—it seemed but two weeks instead of two years ago that John and I had sat in this atticwindow conning our Shakspeare for the first time
Ere twilight I examined Johns room It was a good deal changed the furniture was improved a score of ingenious little contrivances made the tiny attic into a cosy bedchamber One corner was full of shelves laden with books chiefly of a scientific and practical nature Johns taste did not lead him into the current literature of the day Cowper Akenside and Peter Pindar were alike indifferent to him I found among his books no poet but Shakspeare
He evidently still practised his old mechanical arts There was lying in the window a telescope—the cylinder made of pasteboard—into which the lenses were ingeniously fitted A rough telescopestand of common deal stood on the ledge of the roof from which the field of view must have been satisfactory enough to the young astronomer Other fragments of skilful handiwork chiefly meant for machinery on a Lilliputian scale were strewn about the floor and on a chair just as he had left it that morning stood a loom very small in size but perfect in its neat workmanship with a few threads already woven making some fabric not so very unlike cloth
I had gone over all these things without noticing that my father was awake and that his sharp eye had observed them likewise
The lad works hard said he half to himself He has useful hands and a clear head I smiled but took no notice whatever
Evening began to close in—less peacefully than usual—over Norton Bury for whenever I ventured to open the window we heard unusual and ominous sounds abroad in the town I trembled inwardly But John was prudent as well as brave besides everybody knew him Surely he was safe
Faithfully at suppertime Jem entered But he could tell us no news he had kept watch all the time on the staircase by desire of Mr Halifax—so he informed me My father asked no questions—not even about his mill From his look sometimes I fancied he yet beheld in fancy these starving men fighting over the precious food destroyed so wilfully—nay wickedly Heaven forgive me his son if I too harshly use the word for I think till the day of his death that cruel sight never wholly vanished from the eyes of my poor father
Jem seemed talkatively inclined He observed that master was looking sprack agin and warnt this a tidy room like
I praised it and supposed his mother was better off now
Ay she be Mr Halifax pays her a good rent and she sees un made comfortable Not that he wants much being out pretty much all day
What is he busy about of nights
Larning said Jem with an awed look Hes terrible wise But for all that sometimes hell teach Charley and me a bit o the Readamadeasy Readingmadeeasy I suppose Johns hopeful pupil meant Hes very kind to we and to mother too Her says that her do Mr Halifax—
Send the fellow away Phineas muttered my father turning his face to the wall
I obeyed But first I asked in a whisper if Jem had any idea when Mr Halifax would be back
He said maybe not till morning Thems bad folk about He was going to stop all night either at your house or at the tanyard for fear of a BLAZE
The word made my father start for in these times well we knew what poor folk meant by a blaze
My house—my tanyard—I must get up this instant—help me He ought to come back—that lad Halifax Theres a score of my men at hand—Wilkes and Johnson and Jacob Baines—I say Phineas—but thee knowst nothing
He tried to dress and to drag on his heavy shoes but fell back sick with exhaustion and pain I made him lie down again on the bed
Phineas lad said he brokenly thy old father is getting as helpless as thee
So we kept watch together all the night through sometimes dozing sometimes waking up at some slight noise below or at the flicker of the longwicked candle which fear converted into the glare of some incendiary fire—doubtless our own home Now and then I heard my father mutter something about the lad being safe I said nothing I only prayed
Thus the night wore away
CHAPTER VIII
After Midnight—I know not how long for I lost count of the hours by the Abbey chimes and our light had gone out—after midnight I heard by my fathers breathing that he was asleep I was thankful to see it for his sake and also for another reason
I could not sleep—all my faculties were preternaturally alive my weak body and timid mind became strong and active able to compass anything For that one night at least I felt myself a man
My father was a very sound sleeper I knew nothing would disturb him till daylight therefore my divided duty was at an end I left him and crept downstairs into Sally Watkins kitchen It was silent only the faithful warder Jem dozed over the dull fire I touched him on the shoulder—at which he collared me and nearly knocked me down
Beg pardon Mr Phineas—hope I didnt hurt ee sir cried he all but whimpering for Jem a big lad of fifteen was the most tenderhearted fellow imaginable I thought it were some of them folk that Mr Halifax ha gone among
Where is Mr Halifax
Doant know sir—wish I did wouldnt be long a finding out though—ony he says Jem you stop ere wi they pointing his thumb up the staircase So Master Phineas I stop
And Jem settled himself with a doggedly obedient but most dissatisfied air down by the fireplace It was evident nothing would move him thence so he was as safe a guard over my poor old fathers slumber as the mastiff in the tanyard who was as brave as a lion and as docile as a child My last lingering hesitation ended
Jem lend me your coat and hat—Im going out into the town
Jem was so astonished that he stood with open mouth while I took the said garments from him and unbolted the door At last it seemed to occur to him that he ought to intercept me
But sir Mr Halifax said—
I am going to look for Mr Halifax
And I escaped outside Anything beyond his literal duty did not strike the faithful Jem He stood on the doorsill and gazed after me with a hopeless expression
I spose you mun have your way sir but Mr Halifax said Jem you stop yere—and yere I stop
He went in and I heard him bolting the door with a sullen determination as if he would have kept guard against it—waiting for John—until doomsday
I stole along the dark alley into the street It was very silent—I need not have borrowed Jems exterior in order to creep through a throng of maddened rioters There was no sign of any such except that under one of the three oillamps that lit the nightdarkness at Norton Bury lay a few smouldering hanks of hemp well resined They then had thought of that dreadful engine of destruction—fire Had my terrors been true Our house—and perhaps John within it
On I ran speeded by a dull murmur which I fancied I heard but still there was no one in the street—no one except the Abbeywatchman lounging in his box I roused him and asked if all was safe—where were the rioters
What rioters
At Abel Fletchers mill they may be at his house now—
Ay I think they be
And will not one man in the town help him no constables—no law
Oh hes a Quaker the law dont help Quakers
That was the truth—the hard grinding truth—in those days Liberty justice were idle names to Nonconformists of every kind and all they knew of the glorious constitution of English law was when its iron hand was turned against them
I had forgotten this bitterly I remembered it now So wasting no more words I flew along the churchyard until I saw shining against the boles of the chestnuttrees a red light It was one of the hempen torches Now at last I had got in the midst of that small body of men the rioters
They were a mere handful—not above two score—apparently the relics of the band which had attacked the mill joined with a few ploughlads from the country around But they were desperate they had come up the Coltham road so quietly that except this faint murmur neither I nor any one in the town could have told they were near Wherever they had been ransacking as yet they had not attacked my fathers house it stood up on the other side the road—barred black silent
I heard a muttering—Th old man beant there—Nobody knows where he be No thank God
Be us all yere said the man with the torch holding it up so as to see round him It was well then that I appeared as Jem Watkins But no one noticed me except one man who skulked behind a tree and of whom I was rather afraid as he was apparently intent on watching
Ready lads Now for the rosin Blaze un out
But in the eager scuffle the torch the only one alight was knocked down and trodden out A volley of oaths arose though whose fault it was no one seemed to know but I missed my man from behind the tree—nor found him till after the angry throng had rushed on to the nearest lamp One of them was left behind standing close to our own railings He looked round to see if none were by and then sprang over the gate Dark as it was I thought I recognized him
John
Phineas He was beside me in a bound How could you do—
I could do anything tonight But you are safe no one has harmed you Oh thank God you are not hurt
And I clung to his arm—my friend whom I had missed so long so sorely
He held me tight—his heart felt as mine only more silently
Now Phineas we have a minutes time I must have you safe—we must get into the house
Who is there
Jael she is as good as a host of constables she has braved the fellows once tonight but theyre back again or will be directly
And the mill
Safe as yet I have had three of the tanyard men there since yesterday morning though your father did not know I have been going to and fro all night between there and here waiting till the rioters should come back from the Severn mills Hist—here they are—I say Jael
He tapped at the window In a few seconds Jael had unbarred the door let us in and closed it again securely mounting guard behind it with something that looked very like my fathers pistols though I would not discredit her among our peaceful society by positively stating the fact
Bravo said John when we stood all together in the barricaded house and heard the threatening murmur of voices and feet outside Bravo Jael The wife of Heber the Kenite was no braver woman than you
She looked gratified and followed John obediently from room to room
I have done all as thee bade me—thee art a sensible lad John Halifax We are secure I think
Secure bolts and bars secure against fire For that was threatening us now
They cant mean it—surely they cant mean it repeated John as the cry of Burn un out rose louder and louder
But they did mean it From the attic window we watched them light torch after torch sometimes throwing one at the house—but it fell harmless against the staunch oaken door and blazed itself out on our stone steps All it did was to show more plainly than even daylight had shown the gaunt ragged forms and pinched faces furious with famine
John as well as I recoiled at that miserable sight
Ill speak to them he said Unbar the window Jael and before I could hinder he was leaning right out Holloa there
At his loud and commanding voice a wave of upturned faces surged forward expectant
My men do you know what you are about To burn down a gentlemans house is—hanging
There was a hush and then a shout of derision
Not a Quakers nobodyll get hanged for burning out a Quaker
That be true enough muttered Jael between her teeth We must een fight as Mordecais people fought hand to hand until they slew their enemies
Fight repeated John half to himself as he stood at the nowclosed window against which more than one blazing torch began to rattle Fight—with these—What are you doing Jael
For she had taken down a large Book—the last Book in the house she would have taken under less critical circumstances and with it was trying to stop up a broken pane
No my good Jael not this and he carefully replaced the volume that volume in which he might have read as day after day and year after year we Christians generally do read such plain words as these—Love your enemies bless them that curse you pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you
A minute or two John stood with his hand on the Book thinking Then he touched me on the shoulder
Phineas Im going to try a new plan—at least one so old that its almost new Whether it succeeds or no youll bear me witness to your father that I did it for the best and did it because I thought it right Now for it
To my horror he threw up the window wide and leant out
My men I want to speak to you
He might as well have spoken to the roaring sea The only answer was a shower of missiles which missed their aim The rioters were too far off—our spiked iron railings eight feet high or more being a barrier which none had yet ventured to climb But at length one random stone hit John on the chest
I pulled him in but he declared he was not hurt Terrified I implored him not to risk his life
Life is not always the first thing to be thought of said he gently Dont be afraid—I shall come to no harm But I MUST do what I think right if it is to be done
While he spoke I could hardly hear him for the bellowings outside More savage still grew the cry—
Burn em out burn em out They be only Quakers
Theres not a minute to lose—stop—let me think—Jael is that a pistol
Loaded she said handing it over to him with a kind of stern delight Certainly Jael was not meant to be a Friend
John ran downstairs and before I guessed his purpose had unbolted the halldoor and stood on the flight of steps in full view of the mob
There was no bringing him back so of course I followed A pillar sheltered me—I do not think he saw me though I stood close behind him
So sudden had been his act that even the rioters did not seem to have noticed or clearly understood it till the next lighted torch showed them the young man standing there with his back to the door—OUTSIDE the door
The sight fairly confounded them Even I felt that for the moment he was safe They were awed—nay paralyzed by his daring
But the storm raged too fiercely to be lulled except for one brief minute A confusion of voices burst out afresh—
Who be thee—Its one o the Quakers—No he beant—Burn un anyhow—Touch un if ye dare
There was evidently a division arising One big man who had made himself very prominent all along seemed trying to calm the tumult
John stood his ground Once a torch was flung at him—he stooped and picked it up I thought he was going to hurl it back again but he did not he only threw it down and stamped it out safely with his foot This simple action had a wonderful effect on the crowd
The big fellow advanced to the gate and called John by his name
Is that you Jacob Baines I am sorry to see you here
Be ye sir
What do you want
Nought wi thee We wants Abel Fletcher Where is um
I shall certainly not tell you
As John said this again the noise arose and again Jacob Baines seemed to have power to quiet the rest
John Halifax never stirred Evidently he was pretty well known I caught many a stray sentence such as Dont hurt the lad—He were kind to my lad he were—No he be a real gentleman—No he comed here as poor as us and the like At length one voice sharp and shrill was heard above the rest
I zay young man didst ever know what it was to be pretty nigh vamished
Ay many a time
The answer so brief so unexpected struck a great hush into the throng Then the same voice cried—
Speak up man we wont hurt ee You be one o we
No I am not one of you Id be ashamed to come in the night and burn my masters house down
I expected an outbreak but none came They listened as it were by compulsion to the clear manly voice that had not in it one shade of fear
What do you do it for John continued All because he would not sell you or give you his wheat Even so—it was HIS wheat not yours May not a man do what he likes with his own
The argument seemed to strike home There is always a lurking sense of rude justice in a mob—at least a British mob
Dont you see how foolish you were—You tried threats too Now you all know Mr Fletcher you are his men—some of you He is not a man to be threatened
This seemed to be taken rather angrily but John went on speaking as if he did not observe the fact
Nor am I one to be threatened neither Look here—the first one of you who attempted to break into Mr Fletchers house I should most certainly have shot But Id rather not shoot you poor starving fellows I know what it is to be hungry Im sorry for you—sorry from the bottom of my heart
There was no mistaking that compassionate accent nor the murmur which followed it
But what must us do Mr Halifax cried Jacob Baines us be starved amost Whats the good o talking to we
Johns countenance relaxed I saw him lift his head and shake his hair back with that pleased gesture I remember so well of old He went down to the locked gate
Suppose I gave you something to eat would you listen to me afterwards
There arose up a frenzied shout of assent Poor wretches they were fighting for no principle true or false only for bare life They would have bartered their very souls for a mouthful of bread
You must promise to be peaceable said John again very resolutely as soon as he could obtain a hearing You are Norton Bury folk I know you I could get every one of you hanged even though Abel Fletcher is a Quaker Mind youll be peaceable
Ay—ay Someat to eat give us someat to eat
John Halifax called out to Jael bade her bring all the food of every kind that there was in the house and give it to him out of the parlourwindow She obeyed—I marvel now to think of it—but she implicitly obeyed Only I heard her fix the bar to the closed front door and go back with a strange sharp sob to her station at the hallwindow
Now my lads come in and he unlocked the gate
They came thronging up the steps not more than two score I imagined in spite of the noise they had made But two score of such famished desperate men God grant I may never again see
John divided the food as well as he could among them they fell to it like wild beasts Meat cooked or raw loaves vegetables meal all came alike and were clutched gnawed and scrambled for in the fierce selfishness of hunger Afterwards there was a call for drink
Water Jael bring them water
Beer shouted some
Water repeated John Nothing but water Ill have no drunkards rioting at my masters door
And either by chance or design he let them hear the click of his pistol But it was hardly needed They were all cowed by a mightier weapon still—the best weapon a man can use—his own firm indomitable will
At length all the food we had in the house was consumed John told them so and they believed him Little enough indeed was sufficient for some of them wasted with long famine they turned sick and faint and dropped down even with bread in their mouths unable to swallow it Others gorged themselves to the full and then lay along the steps supine as satisfied brutes Only a few sat and ate like rational human beings and there was but one the little shrillvoiced man who asked me if he might tak a bit o bread to the old wench at home
John hearing turned and for the first time noticed me
Phineas it was very wrong of you but there is no danger now
No there was none—not even for Abel Fletchers son I stood safe by Johns side very happy very proud
Well my men he said looking round with a smile have you had enough to eat
Oh ay they all cried
And one man added—Thank the Lord
Thats right Jacob Baines and another time trust the Lord You wouldnt then have been abroad this summer morning—and he pointed to the dawn just reddening in the sky—this quiet blessed summer morning burning and rioting bringing yourselves to the gallows and your children to starvation
They be nigh that aready said Jacob sullenly Us men ha gotten a meal thankee for it but whatll become o the little uns at home I say Mr Halifax and he seemed waxing desperate again we must get some food somehow
John turned away his countenance very sad Another of the men plucked at him from behind
Sir when thee was a poor lad I lent thee a rug to sleep on I doant grudge ee getting on you was born for a gentleman surely But Master Fletcher be a hard man
And a just one persisted John You that work for him did he ever stint you of a halfpenny If you had come to him and said Master times are hard we cant live upon our wages he might—I dont say that he would—but he MIGHT even have given you the food you tried to steal
Dye think hed give it us now And Jacob Baines the big gaunt savage fellow who had been the ringleader—the same too who had spoken of his little uns—came and looked steadily in Johns face
I knew thee as a lad theert a young man now as will be a father some o these days Oh Mr Halifax may ee neer want a meal o good meat for the missus and the babbies at home if eell get a bit o bread for ourn this day
My man Ill try
He called me aside explained to me and asked my advice and consent as Abel Fletchers son to a plan that had come into his mind It was to write orders which each man presenting at our mill should receive a certain amount of flour
Do you think your father would agree
I think he would
Yes John added pondering—I am sure he would And besides if he does not give some he may lose all But he would not do it for fear of that No he is a just man—I am not afraid Give me some paper Jael
He sat down as composedly as if he had been alone in the countinghouse and wrote I looked over his shoulder admiring his clear firm handwriting the precision concentrativeness and quickness with which he first seemed to arrange and then execute his ideas He possessed to the full that business faculty so frequently despised but which out of very ordinary material often makes a clever man and without which the cleverest man alive can never be altogether a great man
When about to sign the orders John suddenly stopped No I had better not
Why so
I have no right your father might think it presumption
Presumption after tonight
Oh thats nothing Take the pen It is your part to sign them Phineas
I obeyed
Isnt this better than hanging said John to the men when he had distributed the little bits of paper—precious as poundnotes—and made them all fully understand the same Why there isnt another gentleman in Norton Bury who if you had come to burn HIS house down would not have had the constables or the soldiers have shot down onehalf of you like mad dogs and sent the other half to the county gaol Now for all your misdoings we let you go quietly home well fed and with food for children too WHY think you
I dont know said Jacob Baines humbly
Ill tell you Because Abel Fletcher is a Quaker and a Christian
Hurrah for Abel Fletcher hurrah for the Quakers shouted they waking up the echoes down Norton Bury streets which of a surety had never echoed to THAT shout before And so the riot was over
John Halifax closed the halldoor and came in—unsteadily—staggering Jael placed a chair for him—worthy soul she was wiping her old eyes He sat down shivering speechless I put my hand on his shoulder he took it and pressed it hard
Oh Phineas lad Im glad glad its safe over
Yes thank God
Ay indeed thank God
He covered his eyes for a minute or two then rose up pale but quite himself again
Now let us go and fetch your father home
We found him on Johns bed still asleep But as we entered he woke The daylight shone on his face—it looked ten years older since yesterday—he stared bewildered and angry at John Halifax
Eh young man—oh I remember Where is my son—wheres my Phineas
I fell on his neck as if I had been a child And almost as if it had been a childs feeble head mechanically he smoothed and patted mine
Thee art not hurt Nor any one
No John answered nor is either the house or the tanyard injured
He looked amazed How has that been
Phineas will tell you Or stay—better wait till you are at home
But my father insisted on hearing I told the whole without any comments on Johns behaviour he would not have liked it and besides the facts spoke for themselves I told the simple plain story—nothing more
Abel Fletcher listened at first in silence As I proceeded he felt about for his hat put it on and drew its broad brim close down over his eyes Not even when I told him of the flour we had promised in his name the giving of which would as we had calculated cost him considerable loss did he utter a word or move a muscle
John at length asked him if he were satisfied
Quite satisfied
But having said this he sat so long his hands locked together on his knees and his hat drawn down hiding all the face except the rigid mouth and chin—sat so long so motionless that we became uneasy
John spoke to him gently almost as a son would have spoken
Are you very lame still Could I help you to walk home
My father looked up and slowly held out his hand
Thee hast been a good lad and a kind lad to us I thank thee
There was no answer none But all the words in the world could not match that happy silence
By degrees we got my father home It was just such another summer morning as the one two years back when we two had stood exhausted and trembling before that sternlybolted door We both thought of that day I knew not if my father did also
He entered leaning heavily on John He sat down in the very seat in the very room where he had so harshly judged us—judged him
Something perhaps of that bitterness rankled in the young mans spirit now for he stopped on the threshold
Come in said my father looking up
If I am welcome not otherwise
Thee art welcome
He came in—I drew him in—and sat down with us But his manner was irresolute his fingers closed and unclosed nervously My father too sat leaning his head on his two hands not unmoved I stole up to him and thanked him softly for the welcome he had given
There is nothing to thank me for said he with something of his old hardness What I once did was only justice—or I then believed so What I have done and am about to do is still mere justice John how old art thee now
Twenty
Then for one year from this time I will take thee as my prentice though thee knowest already nearly as much of the business as I do At twentyone thee wilt be able to set up for thyself or I may take thee into partnership—well see But—and he looked at me then sternly nay fiercely into Johns steadfast eyes—remember thee hast in some measure taken that lads place May God deal with thee as thou dealest with my son Phineas—my only son
Amen was the solemn answer
And God who sees us both now—ay NOW and perhaps not so far apart as some may deem—He knows whether or no John Halifax kept that vow
CHAPTER IX
Well done Phineas—to walk round the garden without once resting now I call that grand after an individual has been ill a month However you must calm your superabundant energies and be quiet
I was not unwilling for I still felt very weak But sickness did not now take that heavy overpowering grip of me mind and body that it once used to do It never did when John was by He gave me strength mentally and physically He was life and health to me with his brave cheerfulness—his way of turning all minor troubles into pleasantries till they seemed to break and vanish away sparkling like the foam on the top of the wave Yet all the while one knew well that he could meet any great evil as gallantly as a good ship meets a heavy sea—breasting it plunging through it or riding over it as only a good ship can
When I recovered—just a month after the breadriot and that month was a great triumph to Johns kind care—I felt that if I always had him beside me I should never be ill any more I said as much in a laughing sort of way
Very well I shall keep you to that bargain Now sit down listen to the newspaper and improve your mind as to what the world is doing It ought to be doing something with the new century it began this year Did it not seem very odd at first to have to write 1800
John what a capital hand you write now
Do I Thats somebodys credit Do you remember my first lesson on the top of the Mythe
I wonder what has become of those two gentlemen
Oh did you never hear Young Mr Brithwood is the squire now He married last month Lady Somebody Something a fine lady from abroad
And Mr March—what of him
I havent the least idea Come now shall I read the paper
He read well and I liked to listen to him It was I remember something about the spacious new quadrangles to be called Russell and Tavistock Squares with elegantly laid out nurserygrounds adjoining
It must be a fine place London
Ay I should like to see it Your father says perhaps he shall have to send me this winter on business—wont that be fine If only you would go too
I shook my head I had the strongest disinclination to stir from my quiet home which now held within it or about it all I wished for and all I loved It seemed as if any change must be to something worse
Nevertheless you must have a change Doctor Jessop insists upon it Here have I been beating up and down the country for a week past—Adventures in Search of a Country Residence—and do you know I think Ive found one at last Shouldnt you like to hear about it
I assented to please him
Such a nice nice place on the slope of Enderley Hill A cottage—Rose Cottage—for its all in a bush of clusterroses up to the very roof
Where is Enderley
Did you never hear of Enderley Flat the highest tableland in England Such a fresh free breezy spot—how the wind sweeps over it I can feel it in my face still
And even the description was refreshing this heavy sultry day with not a breath of air moving across the level valley
Shouldnt you like to live on a hillside to be at the top of everything overlooking everything Well thats Enderley the village lies just under the brow of the Flat
Is there a village
A dozen cottages or so at each door of which halfadozen white little heads and a dozen round eyes appeared staring at me But oh the blessed quiet and solitude of the place No fights in filthy alleys no tanyards—I mean—he added correcting himself—its a thorough country spot and I like the country better than the town
Do you still Would you really like to take to the shepherds life and state upon which my namesake here is so eloquent Let us see what he says
And from the handful of books that usually lay strewn about wherever we two sat I took up one he had lately got with no small pains I was sure and had had bound in its own proper colour and presented it to me—The Purple Island and Sicelides of Phineas Fletcher People seldom read this wise tender and sweetvoiced old fellow now so I will even copy the verses I found for John to read
Here is the place Thyrsis is just ending his broken lay
Lest that the stealing night his later song might stay—
Stop a minute interrupted John Apropos of stealing night the sun is already down below the yewhedge Are you cold
Not a bit of it
Then well begin—
Thrice oh thrice happy shepherds life and state
When courts are happiness unhappy pawns
Thats not clear said John laying down the book Now I do like poetry to be intelligible A poet ought to see things more widely and express them more vividly than ordinary folk
Dont you perceive—he means the pawns on the chessboard—the common people
Phineas dont say the common people—Im a common person myself But to continue—
His cottage low and safely humble gate
Shuts out proud Fortune with her scorns and fawns
No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep
Singing all day his flocks he learns to keep
Himself as innocent as are his quiet sheep
Not many sheep at Enderley I fancy the Flat chiefly abounds in donkeys Well—
No Serian worms he knows that with their thread
Drew out their silken lives—nor silken pride—
Which reminds me that—
David how can you make me laugh at our reverend ancestor in this way Im ashamed of you
Only let me tell you this one fact—very interesting youll allow—that I saw a silken gown hanging up in the kitchen at Rose Cottage Now though Mrs Tod is a decent comely woman I dont think it belonged to her
She may have lodgers
I think she said she had—an old gentleman—but HE wouldnt wear a silken gown
His wife might Now do go on reading
Certainly I only wish to draw a parallel between Thyrsis and ourselves in our future summer life at Enderley So the old gentlemans wife may appropriate the silken pride while we emulate the shepherd
His lambs warm fleece well fits his little need—
I wear a tolerably good coat now dont I Phineas
You are incorrigible
Yet through all his fun I detected a certain undertone of seriousness observable in him ever since my fathers declaration of his intentions concerning him had so to speak settled Johns future career He seemed aware of some crisis in his life arrived or impending which disturbed the generally even balance of his temperament
Nay Ill be serious and passing over the unfinished verse with another or two following he began afresh in a new place and in an altogether changed tone
His certain life that never can deceive him
Is full of thousand sweets and rich content
The smoothleaved beeches in the field receive him
With coolest shades till noontides rage is spent
His life is neither tost on boisterous seas
Of troublous worlds nor lost in slothful ease
Pleased and full blest he lives when he his God can please
His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps
While by his side his faithful spouse hath place
His little son into his bosom creeps
The lively image of his fathers face
Never his humble house or state torment him
Less he could like if less his God had sent him
And when he dies green turfs with grassy tomb content him
John ceased He was a good reader—but I had never heard him read like this before Ending one missed it like the breaking of music or like the inner voice of ones own heart talking when nobody is by
David I said after a pause what are you thinking about
He started with his old quick blush—Oh nothing—No thats not quite true I was thinking that so far as happiness goes this shepherds is my ideal of a happy life—ay down to the grassy tomb
Your fancy leaps at once to the grassy tomb but the shepherd enjoyed a few intermediate stages of felicity before that
I was thinking of those likewise
Then you do intend some day to have a faithful spouse and a little son
I hope so—God willing
It may seem strange but this was the first time our conversation had ever wandered in a similar direction Though he was twenty and I twentytwo—to us both—and I thank Heaven that we could both look up in the face of Heaven and say so—to us both the follies and wickednesses of youth were if not equally unknown equally and alike hateful Many may doubt or smile at the fact but I state it now in my old age with honour and pride that we two young men that day trembled on the subject of love as shyly as reverently as delicately as any two young maidens of innocent sixteen
After Johns serious God willing there was a good long silence Afterwards I said—
Then you propose to marry
Certainly as soon as I can
Have you ever— and while speaking I watched him narrowly for a sudden possibility flashed across my mind—Have you ever seen any one whom you would like for your wife
No
I was satisfied Johns single No was as conclusive as a score of asseverations
We said no more but after one of those pauses of conversation which were habitual to us—John used to say that the true test of friendship was to be able to sit or walk together for a whole hour in perfect silence without wearying of one anothers company—we again began talking about Enderley
I soon found that in this plan my part was simply acquiescence my father and John had already arranged it all I was to be in charge of the latter nothing could induce Abel Fletcher to leave even for a day his house his garden and his tanyard We two young men were to set up for a month or two our bachelor establishment at Mrs Tods John riding thrice aweek over to Norton Bury to bring news of me and to fulfil his duties at the tanyard One could see plain enough—and very grateful to me was the sight—that whether or no Abel Fletcher acknowledged it his right hand in all his business affairs was the lad John Halifax
On a lovely August day we started for Enderley It was about eight miles off on a hilly crosscountry road We lumbered slowly along in our postchaise I leaning back enjoying the fresh air the changing views and chiefly to see how intensely John enjoyed them too
He looked extremely well today—handsome I was about to write but John was never even in his youth handsome Nay I have heard people call him plain but that was not true His face had that charm perhaps the greatest certainly the most lasting either in women or men—of infinite variety You were always finding out something—an expression strange as tender or the track of a swift brilliant thought or an indication of feeling different from perhaps deeper than anything which appeared before When you believed you had learnt it line by line it would startle you by a phase quite new and beautiful as new For it was not one of your impassive faces whose owners count it pride to harden into a mass of stone those lineaments which nature made as the flesh and blood representation of the mans soul True it had its reticences its sacred disguises its noble powers of silence and selfcontrol It was a fairwritten open book only to read it clearly you must come from its own country and understand the same language
For the rest John was decidedly like the David whose name I still gave him now and then—a goodly person tall wellbuilt and strong The glory of a young man is his strength and so I used often to think when I looked at him He always dressed with extreme simplicity generally in grey he was fond of grey and in something of our Quaker fashion On this day I remember I noticed an especial carefulness of attire at his age neither unnatural nor unbecoming His wellfitting coat and longflapped vest garnished with the snowiest of lawn frills and ruffles his kneebreeches black silk hose and shoes adorned with the largest and brightest of steel buckles made up a costume which quaint as it would now appear still is to my mind the most suitable and graceful that a young man can wear I never see any young men now who come at all near the picture which still remains in my minds eye of John Halifax as he looked that day
Once with the natural sensitiveness of youth especially of youth that has struggled up through so many opposing circumstances as his had done he noticed my glance
Anything amiss about me Phineas You see I am not much used to holidays and holiday clothes
I have nothing to say against either you or your clothes replied I smiling
Thats all right I beg to state it is entirely in honour of you and of Enderley that I have slipped off my tanyard husk and put on the gentleman
You couldnt do that John You couldnt put on what you were born with
He laughed—but I think he was pleased
We had now come into a hilly region John leaped out and gained the top of the steep road long before the postchaise did I watched him standing balancing in his hands the ridingwhip which had replaced the everlasting roseswitch or willowwand of his boyhood His figure was outlined sharply against the sky his head thrown backward a little as he gazed evidently with the keenest zest on the breezy flat before him His hair—a little darker than it used to be but of the true Saxon colour still and curly as ever—was blown about by the wind under his broad hat His whole appearance was full of life health energy and enjoyment
I thought any father might have been proud of such a son any sister of such a brother any young girl of such a lover Ay that last tie the only one of the three that was possible to him—I wondered how long it would be before times changed and I ceased to be the only one who was proud of him
We drove on a little further and came to the chief landmark of the high moorland—a quaint hostelry called the Bear Bruin swung aloft pole in hand brown and fierce on an oldfashioned sign as he and his progenitors had probably swung for two centuries or more
Is this Enderley I asked
Not quite but near it You never saw the sea Well from this point I can show you something very like it Do you see that gleaming bit in the landscape far away Thats water—thats our very own Severn swelled to an estuary But you must imagine the estuary—you can only get that tiny peep of water glittering like a great diamond that some young Titaness has flung out of her necklace down among the hills
David you are actually growing poetical
Am I Well I do feel rather strange today—crazy like a high wind always sends me half crazy with delight Did you ever feel such a breeze And theres something so gloriously free in this high level common—as flat as if my Titaness had found a little Mont Blanc and amused herself with patting it down like a doughcake
A very culinary goddess
Yes but a goddess after all And her doughcake her mushroom her flattened Mont Blanc is very fine What a broad green sweep—nothing but sky and common common and sky This is Enderley Flat We shall come to its edge soon where it drops abruptly into such a pretty valley There look down—thats the church We are on a level with the top of its tower Take care my lad—to the postboy who was crossing with difficulty the literally pathless waste—Dont lurch us into the quarrypits or topple us at once down the slope where we shall roll over and over—facilis descensus Averni—and lodge in Mrs Tods garden hedge
Mrs Tod would feel flattered if she knew Latin You dont look upon our future habitation as a sort of Avernus
John laughed merrily No as I told you before I like Enderley Hill I cant tell why but I like it It seems as if I had known the place before I feel as if we were going to have great happiness here
And as he spoke his unwonted buoyancy softened into a quietness of manner more befitting that word happiness Strange word hardly in my vocabulary Yet when he uttered it I seemed to understand it and to be content
We wound a little way down the slope and came in front of Rose Cottage It was well named I never in my life had seen such a bush of bloom They hung in clusters—those roses—a dozen in a group pressing their pinky cheeks together in a mass of family fragrance pushing in at the parlour window climbing up even to the very attic There was a yellow jasmine over the porch at one front door and a woodbine at the other the cottage had two entrances each distinct But the general impression it gave both as to sight and scent was of roses—nothing but roses
How are you Mrs Tod as a comely middleaged body appeared at the righthand doorway dressed sprucely in one of those things Jael called a coat and jacket likewise a red calamanco petticoat tucked up at the pocketholes
I be pretty fair sir—be you the same The children ha not forgotten you—you see Mr Halifax
So much the better and he patted two or three little white heads and tossed the youngest high up in the air It looked very strange to see John with a child in his arms
Dont ee make more noise than ee can help my lad the good woman said to our postboy because sir the sick gentleman beant so well again today
I am sorry for it We would not have driven up to the door had we known Which is his room
Mrs Tod pointed to a window—not on our side of the house but the other A hand was just closing the casement and pulling down the blind—a hand which in the momentary glimpse we had of it seemed less like a mans than a womans
When we were settled in the parlour John noticed this fact
It was the wife most likely Poor thing how hard to be shut up indoors on such a summer evening as this
It did seem a sad sight—that closed window outside which was the fresh balmy air the sunset and the roses
And how do you like Enderley asked John when tea being over I lay and rested while he sat leaning his elbow on the windowsill and his cheek against a bunch of those everintruding inquisitive roses
It is very very pretty and so comfortable—almost like home
I feel as if it were home John said half to himself Do you know I can hardly believe that I have only seen this place once before it is so familiar I seem to know quite well that slope of common before the door with its black dots of furzebushes And that wood below what a clear line its top makes against the yellow sky There that high ground to the right its all dusky now but it is such a view by daylight And between it and Enderley is the prettiest valley where the road slopes down just under those chestnuttrees
How well you seem to know the place already
As I tell you I like it I hardly ever felt so content before We will have a happy time Phineas
Oh yes How—even if I had felt differently—could I say anything but yes to him then
I lay until it grew quite dark and I could only see a dim shape sitting at the window instead of Johns known face then I bade him goodnight and retired Directly afterwards I heard him as I knew he would dash out of the house and away up the Flat In the deep quiet of this lonely spot I could distinguish for several minutes the diminishing sound of his footsteps along the loose stony road and the notes clear and shrill of his whistling I think it was Sally in our Alley or some such pleasant old tune At last it faded far off and I fell into sleep and dreams
CHAPTER X
That Mrs Tod is an extraordinary woman I repeat it—a most extraordinary woman
And leaning his elbows on the table from which the said extraordinary woman had just removed breakfast John looked over to me with his own merry brown eyes
Wherefore David
She has a house full of children yet manages to keep it quiet and her own temper likewise Astonishing patience However people attain it who have to do with brats I cant imagine
John thats mean hypocrisy I saw you myself halfanhour ago holding the eldest Tod boy on a refractory donkey and laughing till you could hardly stand
Did I said he halfashamed Well it was only to keep the little scamp from making a noise under the windows And that reminds me of another remarkable virtue in Mrs Tod—she can hold her tongue
How so
In two whole days she has not communicated to us a single fact concerning our neighbours on the other half of Rose Cottage
Did you want to know
John laughingly denied then allowed that he always had a certain pleasure in eliciting information on men and things
The wife being indicated I suppose by that very complimentary word thing But what possible interest can you have in either the old gentleman or the old lady
Stop Phineas you have a bad habit of jumping at conclusions And in our great dearth of occupation here I think it might be all the better for you to take a little interest in your neighbours So Ive a great mind to indulge you with an important idea suggestion discovery Harkee friend—and he put on an air of sentimental mystery not a bad copy of our old acquaintance Mr Charles—what if the—the individual should not be an old lady at all
What The old gentlemans wife
Wife Ahem more jumping at conclusions No let us keep on the safe side and call her the—individual In short the owner of that grey silk gown I saw hanging up in the kitchen Ive seen it again
The grey gown when and where
This morning early I walked after it across the Flat a good way behind though for I thought that it—well let me say SHE—might not like to be watched or followed She was trotting along very fast and she carried a little basket—I fancy a basket of eggs
Capital housekeeper excellent wife
Once more—I have my doubts on that latter fact She walked a great deal quicker and merrier than any wife ought to walk when her husband is ill
I could not help laughing at Johns original notions of conjugal duty
Besides Mrs Tod always calls her invalid the old gentleman and I dont believe this was an elderly lady
Nay old men do sometimes marry young women
Yes but it is always a pity and sometimes not quite right No—and I was amused to see how gravely and doggedly John kept to his point—though this lady did not look like a sylph or a woodnymph—being neither very small nor very slight and having a comfortable woollen cloak and hood over the grey silk gown—still I dont believe shes an old woman or married either
How can you possibly tell Did you see her face
Of course not he answered rather indignantly I should not think it manly to chase a lady as a schoolboy does a butterfly for the mere gratification of staring at her I stayed on the top of the Flat till she had gone indoors
Into Rose Cottage
Why—yes
She had doubtless gone to fetch newlaid eggs for her—I mean for the sick gentlemans breakfast Kind soul
You may jest Phineas but I think she is a kind soul On her way home I saw her stop twice once to speak to an old woman who was gathering sticks and again to scold a lad for thrashing a donkey
Did you hear her
No but I judge from the lads penitent face as I passed him I am sure she had been scolding him
Then shes not young depend upon it Your beautiful young creatures never scold
Im not so sure of that said John meditatively For my part I should rather not cheat myself or be cheated after that manner Perfection is impossible Better see the young woman as she really is bad and good together
The young woman The fair divinity you mean
No shutting his mouth over the negative in his firm way—I strongly object to divinities How unpleasant it would be to woo an angel of perfection and find her out at last to be only—only Mrs—
Halifax suggested I at which he laughed slightly colouring
But how woeful must be our dearth of subjects when we talk such nonsense as this What suggested it
Your friend in the grey gown I suppose
Requiescat in Pace May she enjoy her eggs And now I must go saddle the brown mare and be off to Norton Bury A lovely day for a ride How I shall dash along
He rose up cheerily It was like morning sunshine only to see his face No morbid follies had ever tainted his healthy nature whatsoever romance was there—and never was there a thoroughly noble nature without some romance in it But it lay deep down calm and unawakened His heart was as light and free as air
Stooping over my easy chair he wheeled it to the window in sight of the pleasant view
Now Phineas what more books do you want Youll take a walk before dinner Youll not be moping
No why should I who knew I had always whether absent or present the blessing the infinite blessing of being first in his thoughts and cares Who whether he expressed it or not—the best things never are expressed or expressible—knew by a thousand little daily acts like these the depth and tenderness of his friendship his brotherly love for me As yet I had it all And God who knows how little else I had will pardon if in my unspeakable thankfulness lurked a taint of selfish joy in my sole possession of such a priceless boon
He lingered about making me all right as he called it and planning out my solitary day With much merriment too for we were the gayest couple of young bachelors when as John said the duties of our responsible position would allow
Responsible position Its our good landlady who ought to talk about that With two sets of lodgers a husband and an indefinite number of children Theres one of them got into mischief at last Hark
Its Jack my namesake Bless my life I knew he would come to grief with that donkey Hey lad never mind Get up again
But soon he perceived that the accident was more serious and disappeared like a shot leaping out through the open window The next minute I saw him carrying in the unlucky Jack who was bleeding from a cut in the forehead and screaming vociferously
Dont be frightened Mrs Tod it is very slight—I saw it done Jack my lad—be a man and never mind it Dont scream so you alarm your mother
But as soon as the good woman was satisfied that there was no real cause for terror hers changed into hearty wrath against Jack for his carelessness and for giving so much trouble to the gentleman
But he be always getting into mischief sir—that boy Three months back the very day Mr March came he got playing with the carriagehorse and it kicked him and broke his arm A deal he cares he be just as sprack as ever As I say to Tod—it beant no use fretting over that boy
Have patience answered John who had again carried the unfortunate young scapegrace from our parlour into Mrs Tods kitchen—the centre room of the cottage and was trying to divert the torrent of maternal indignation while he helped her to plaster up the still ugly looking wound Come forgive the lad He will be more sorry afterwards than if you had punished him
Doee think so said the woman as struck either by the words the manner or the tone she looked up straight at him Doee really think so Mr Halifax
I am sure of it Nothing makes one so good as being forgiven when one has been naughty Isnt it so Jack my namesake
Jack ought to be proud o that sir said the mother respectfully and theres some sense in what you say too You talk like my man does o Sundays Tod be a Scotchman Mr Halifax and theyre good folks the Scotch and read their Bibles hard Theres a deal about forgiving in the Bible isnt there sir
Exactly John answered smiling And so Jack youre safe this time only you must not disobey your mother again for the sake of donkeys or anything else
No sir—thankee sir sobbed Jack humbly You be a gentleman—Mr March beant—he said it served me right for getting under his horses
Hold thy tongue said Jacks mother sharply for the latch of the opposite door was just then lifted and a lady stood there
Mrs Tod my father says—
Seeing strangers the lady paused At the sound of her voice—a pleasant voice though somewhat quick and decided in tone—John and I both involuntarily turned We felt awkward doubtful whether to stay or retire abruptly She saved us the choice
Mrs Tod my father will take his soup at eleven You will remember
Yes Miss March
Upon which Miss March shut the door at once and vanished
She wore a grey silken gown I glanced at John but he did not see me his eyes were fixed on the door which had disclosed and concealed the momentary picture Its momentariness impressed it the more vividly on my memory—I have it there still
A girl in early but not precocious maturity rather tall of a figure built more for activity and energy than the mere fragility of sylphlike grace darkcomplexioned darkeyed darkhaired—the whole colouring being of that soft darkness of tone which gives a sense of something at once warm and tender strong and womanly Thorough woman she seemed—not a bit of the angel about her Scarcely beautiful and pretty would have been the very last word to have applied to her but there was around her an atmosphere of freshness health and youth pleasant as a breeze in spring
For her attire it was that notable grey silk gown—very simply made with no fripperies or fandangos of any sort—reaching up to her throat and down to her wrists where it had some kind of trimming of white fur which made the skin beneath show exquisitely delicate
That is Miss March said our landlady when she had disappeared
Is it said John removing his eyes from the shut door
She be very sensiblelike for a young body of seventeen more sensible and pleasanter than her father who is always ailing and always grumbling Poor gentleman—most like he cant help it But it be terrible hard for the daughter—beant it sir
Very said John His laconism was extraordinary
Still he kept standing by the kitchentable waiting till the last bandage had been sewn on Jacks cut forehead and even some minutes after his protege had begun playing about as usual It was I who had to suggest that we should not intrude in Mrs Tods kitchen any longer
No—certainly not Come Phineas Mrs Tod I hope our presence did not inconvenience—the young lady
Bless your heart sir nothing ever inconveniences she There beant a pleasanter young body alive Shell often come into this kitchen—just as you did gentlemen and very happy to see you always added Mrs Tod curtseying When Mr March is asleep shell come and sit for half an hour talking to Tod and me and playing with the baby—
Here probably at sound of its name the individual alluded to set up from its cradle in the corner such a terrific squall that we young men beat a precipitate retreat
So John your grey gown is discovered at last Shes young certainly—but not exactly a beauty
I never said she was
A pleasant person though hearty cheerfullooking and strong I can easily imagine her trotting over the common with her basket of eggs—chatting to the old woman and scolding the naughty boy
Dont make fun of her She must have a hard life with her old father
Of course seeing him take it up so seriously I jested no more
Bytheby did not the fathers name strike you MARCH—suppose it should turn out to be the very Mr March you pulled out of Severn five years ago What a romantic conjuncture of circumstances
Nonsense said John quickly—more quickly than he usually spoke to me then came back to wish me a kind goodbye Take care of yourself old fellow It will be nightfall before I am back from Norton Bury
I watched him mount and ride slowly down the bit of common—turning once to look back at Rose Cottage ere he finally disappeared between the chestnut trees a goodly sight—for he was an admirable horseman
When he was gone I glancing lazily up at Mr Marchs window saw a hand and I fancied a whitefurred wrist pulling down the blind It amused me to think Miss March might possibly have been watching him likewise
I spent the whole long day alone in the cottage parlour chiefly meditating though more than once friendly Mrs Tod broke in upon my solitude She treated me in a motherly freeandeasy way not half so deferentially as she treated John Halifax
The sun had gone down over Nunnely Hill behind the four tall Italian poplars which stood on the border of our bit of wilderness—three together and one apart They were our landmarks—and skymarks too—for the first sunbeam coming across the common struck their tops of a morning and the broad western glimmer showed their forms distinctly until far in the night They were just near enough for me to hear their faint rustling in windy weather on calm days they stood up straight against the sky like memorial columns They were friends of mine—those four poplars sometimes they almost seemed alive We made acquaintance on this first night when I sat watching for John and we kept up the friendship ever afterwards
It was nine oclock before I heard the old mares hoofs clattering up the road joyfully I ran out
David was not quite his youthful gay self that night not quite as he expressed it the David of the sheepfolds He was very tired and had what he called the tanyard feeling the oppression of business cares
Times are hard said he when we had finally shut out the starlight and Mrs Tod had lit candles bade us goodnight in her free independent way and hoped Mr Halifax had everything he wanted She always seemed to consider him the head of our little menage
The times are very hard repeated John thoughtfully I dont see how your father can rightly be left with so many anxieties on his shoulders I must manage to get to Norton Bury at least five days a week You will have enough of solitude I fear
And you will have little enough of the pleasant country life you planned and which you seem so to delight in
Never mind—perhaps its good for me I have a life of hard work before me and cant afford to get used to too much pleasure But well make the most of every bit of time we have How have you felt today Strong
Very strong Now what would you like us to do tomorrow
I want to show you the common in early morning—the view there is so lovely
Of Nature or human nature
He half smiled though only at my mischievousness I could see it did not affect him in the least Nay I know what you mean but I had forgotten her or if not absolutely forgotten she was not in my mind just then We will go another way as indeed I had intended it might annoy the young lady our meeting her again
His grave easy manner of treating and dismissing the subject was a tacit reproach to me I let the matter drop we had much more serious topics afloat than gossip about our neighbours
At seven next morning we were out on the Flat
Im not going to let you stand here in the dews Phineas Come a little farther on to my terrace as I call it Theres a panorama
It was indeed All around the high flat a valley lay like a moat or as if some broad river had been dried up in its course and century after century gradually converted into meadow woodland and town For a little white town sat demurely at the bottom of the hollow and a score or two of white cottages scattered themselves from this small nucleus of civilisation over the opposite bank of this imaginary river which was now a lovely hillside Gorges purple with shadow yellow cornfields and dark clumps of woodland dressed this broad hillside in many colours its highest point Nunnely Hill forming the horizon where last night I had seen the sun go down and which now was tinted with the tenderest western morning grey
Do you like this Phineas I do very much A dear smiling English valley holding many a little nest of an English home Fancy being patriarch over such a region having the whole valley in ones hand to do good to or ill You cant think what primitive people they are hereabouts—descendants from an old colony of Flemish clothweavers they keep to the trade Down in the valley—if one could see through the beech wood—is the grand support of the neighbourhood a large cloth mill
Thats quite in your line John and I saw his face brighten up as it had done when as a boy he had talked to me about his machinery What has become of that wonderful little loom you made
Oh I have it still But this is such a fine clothmill—I have been all over it If the owner would put aside his old Flemish stolidity I do believe he and his ancestors have gone on in the same way and with almost the same machinery ever since Queen Elizabeths time Now just one or two of our modern improvements such as—but I forget you never could understand mechanics
You can though Explain clearly and Ill try my best
He did so and so did I I think he even managed to knock something of the matter into my stupid head where it remained—for ten minutes Much longer remained the impression of his energetic talk—his clearheaded way of putting before another what he understood so well himself I marvelled how he had gained all his information
Oh its easy enough when one has a natural propensity for catching hold of facts and then you know I always had a weakness for machinery I could stand for an hour watching a mill at work especially if its worked by a great waterwheel
Would you like to be a millowner
Shouldnt I—with a sunshiny flash which soon clouded over However tis idle talking one cannot choose ones calling—at least very few can After all it isnt the trade that signifies—its the man Im a tanner and a capital tanner I intend to be Bytheby I wonder if Mrs Tod who talks so much about gentlefolk knows that latter fact about you and me
I think not I hope not Oh David this one month at least let us get rid of the tanyard
For I hated it more than ever now in our quiet free Arcadian life the very thought of it was insupportable not only for myself but for John
He gently blamed me yet I think he involuntarily felt much as I did if he would have allowed himself so to feel
Who would guess now that I who stand here delighting myself in this fresh air and pleasant view this dewy common all thick with flowers—what a pretty blue cluster that is at your foot Phineas—who would guess that all yesterday I had been stirring up tanpits handling raw hides Faugh I wonder the little harebells dont sicken in these my hands—such ugly hands too
Nonsense John theyre not so bad indeed and if they were what does it matter
You are right lad it does not matter They have done me good service and will yet though they were not made for carrying nosegays
There is somebody besides yourself plucking posies on the Flat See how large the figure looks against the sky It might be your Titaness John—
Like Proserpina gathering flowers
Herself the fairest—
—no not fairest for I declare she looks very like your friend Greygown—I beg her pardon—Miss March
It is she said John so indifferently that I suspect that fact had presented itself to him for at least two minutes before I found it out
Theres certainly a fatality about your meeting her
Not the least She has this morning taken her walk in a different direction as I did and we both chanced again to hit upon the same answered John gravely and explanatorily Come away down the slope We must not intrude upon a ladys enjoyments
He carried me off much against my will for I had a great wish to see again that fresh young face so earnest cheerful and good Also as I laboured in vain to convince my companion the said face indicated an independent dignity which would doubtless make its owner perfectly indifferent whether her solitary walk were crossed by two gentlemen or two hundred
John agreed to this nevertheless he was inexorable And since he was a man of the world—having in his journeys up and down the country for my father occasionally fallen into polite society—I yielded the point to him and submitted to his larger experience of good breeding
However Fate kinder than he took the knot of etiquette into her own hands and broke it
Close to the cottage door our two paths converging and probably our breakfasthours likewise brought us suddenly face to face with Miss March
She saw us and we had a distinct sight of her
I was right we and our contiguity were not of the smallest importance to Miss March Her fresh morning roses did not deepen nor her eyes droop as she looked for a moment at us both—a quiet maidenly look of mere observation Of course no recognition passed but there was a merry dimple beside her mouth as if she quite well knew who we were and owned to a little harmless feminine curiosity in observing us
She had to pass our door where stood Mrs Tod and the baby It stretched out its little arms to come to her with that pretty babyish gesture which I suppose no woman can resist Miss March could not She stopped and began tossing up the child
Truly they made a pleasant picture the two—she with her hooded cloak dropping off showing her graceful shape and her darkbrown hair all gathered up in a mass of curls at the top of her head as the fashion then was As she stood with her eyes sparkling and the young blood flushing through her clear brunette cheeks I was not sure whether I had not judged too hastily in calling her no beauty
Probably by his look John thought the same
She stood right before our wicketgate but she had evidently quite forgotten us so happy was she with Mrs Tods bonny boy until the landlady made some remark about letting the gentlemen by Then with a slight start drawing her hood back over her head the young lady stepped aside
In passing her John raised his eyes as was natural enough For me I could hardly take mine from her such a pleasant creature was she to behold She half smiled—he bowed which she returned courteously and we both went indoors I told him this was a good beginning of acquaintance with our neighbour
Not at all no acquaintance a mere civility between two people living under the same roof It will never be more
Probably not
I am afraid John was disappointed at my probably I am afraid that when he stood at our window contemplating the little group which filled up our wicketgate he missed some one out of the three—which I suspect was neither Mrs Tod nor yet the baby
I like her face very much better now David Do you
It was a very curious fact which I never noticed till afterwards that though there had been some lapse of time before I hazarded this remark we both intuitively supplied the noun to that indefinite personal pronoun
A good—nay a noble face though still with those irregular features I cant—really I cant—call her beautiful
Nor I
She bowed with remarkable grace too I think John for the first time in our lives we may say we have seen a LADY
Most certainly a lady
Nay I only meant that girl as she is she is evidently accustomed to what is called society Which makes it the more likely that her father is the Mr March who was cousin to the Brithwoods An odd coincidence
A very odd coincidence
After which brief reply John relapsed into taciturnity
More than once that morning we recurred to the subject of our neighbours—that is I did—but John was rather saturnine and uncommunicative Nay when as Mrs Tod was removing the breakfast I ventured to ask her a harmless question or two—who Mr March was and where he came from—I was abruptly reproved the very minute our good landlady had shut the door for my tendency to gossip
At which I only laughed and reminded him that he had ingeniously scolded me after not before I had gained the desired information—namely that Mr March was a gentleman of independent property—that he had no friends hereabouts and that he usually lived in Wales
He cannot be our Mr March then
No said John with an air of great relief
I was amused to see how seriously he took such a trifle ay many a time that day I laughed at him for evincing such great sympathy over our neighbours and especially—which was plain enough to see though he doubtless believed he entirely disguised it—for that interest which a young man of twenty would naturally take in a very charming and personable young woman Ay naturally as I said to myself for I admired her too extremely
It seems strange now to call to mind that morning and our lighthearted jests about Miss March Strange that Destiny should often come thus creeping like a child to our very doors we hardly notice it or send it away with a laugh it comes so naturally so simply so accidentally as it were that we recognise it not We cannot believe that the baby intruder is in reality the king of our fortunes the ruler of our lives But so it is continually and since IT IS it must be right
We finished the morning by reading Shakspeare—Romeo and Juliet—at which the old folio seemed naturally to open There is a time—a sweet time too though it does not last—when to every young mind the play of plays the poem of poems is Romeo and Juliet We were at that phase now
John read it all through to me—not for the first time either and then thinking I had fallen asleep he sat with the book on his knee gazing out of the open window
It was a warm summer day—breathless soundless—a day for quietness and dreams Sometimes a bee came buzzing among the roses in and away again like a happy thought Nothing else was stirring not a single bird was to be seen or heard except that now and then came a coo of the woodpigeons among the beechtrees—a low tender voice—reminding one of a mothers crooning over a cradled child or of two true lovers standing clasped heart to heart in the first embrace which finds not and needs not a single word
John sat listening What was he thinking about Why that strange quiver about his mouth—why that wonderful new glow that infinite depth of softness in his eyes
I closed mine He never knew I saw him He thought I slept placidly through that halfhour which seemed to him as brief as a minute To me it was long—ah so long as I lay pondering with an intensity that was actual pain on what must come some time and for all I knew might even now be coming
CHAPTER XI
A week slipped by We had grown familiar with Enderley Hill—at least I had As for John he had little enough enjoyment of the pretty spot he had taken such a fancy to being absent five days out of the seven riding away when the morning sun had slid down to the boles of my four poplars and never coming home till Venus peeped out over their heads at night It was hard for him but he bore the disappointment well
With me one day went by just like another In the mornings I crept out climbed the hill behind Rose Cottage garden and there lay a little under the verge of the Flat in a sunny shelter watching the ants running in and out of the numerous anthills there or else I turned my observation to the short velvet herbage that grew everywhere hereabouts for the common so far from being barren was a perfect sheet of greenest softest turf sowed with minute and rare flowers Often a square foot of ground presented me with enough of beauty and variety in colour and form to criticise and contemplate for a full hour
My human interests were not extensive Sometimes the Enderley villagers or the Tod children who were a grade above these and decidedly respectable would appear and have a game of play at the foot of the slope their laughter rising up to where I lay Or some old woman would come with her pails to the spring below a curious and very old stone well to which the cattle from the common often rushed down past me in bevies and stood kneedeep their mouths making glancing circles in the water as they drank
Being out of doors almost all day I saw very little of the inhabitants of our cottage Once or twice a lady and gentleman passed creeping at the foot of the slope so slowly that I felt sure it must be Mr March and his daughter He was tall with grey hair I was not near enough to distinguish his features She walked on the further side supporting him with her arm Her comfortable morning hood was put off and she had on her head that ugly stiff thing which ladies had lately taken to wearing and which Jael said was called a bonnet
Except on these two occasions I had no opportunity of making any observations on the manners and customs of our neighbours Occasionally Mrs Tod mentioned them in her social chatter while laying the cloth but it was always in the most cursory and trivial way such as Miss March having begged that the children might be kept quiet—Mrs Tod hoped their noise didnt disturb ME but Mr March was such a very fidgety gentleman—so particular in his dress too—Why Miss March had to iron his cravats with her own hands Besides if there was a pin awry in her dress he did make such a fuss—and really such an active busy young lady couldnt look always as if she came trim out of a bandbox Mr March wanted so much waiting on he seemed to fancy he still had his big house in Wales and his seven servants
Mrs Tod conversed as if she took it for granted I was fully acquainted with all the prior history of her inmates or any others that she mentioned—a habit peculiar to Enderley folk with strangers It was generally rather convenient and it saved much listening but in this case I would rather have had it broken through Sometimes I felt strongly inclined to question her but on consulting John he gave his veto so decidedly against seeking out peoples private affairs in such an illicit manner that I felt quite guilty and began to doubt whether my sickly useless dreaming life was not inclining me to curiosity gossip and other small vices which we are accustomed—I know not why—to insult the other sex by describing as womanish
As I have said the two cottages were built distinct so that we could have neither sound nor sight of our neighbours save upon the neutral ground of Mrs Tods kitchen where however I might have felt inclined to venture Johns prohibition stopped me entirely
Thus—save the two days when he was at home when he put me on his mares back and led me far away over common and valley and hill for miles only coming back at twilight—save those two blithe days I spent the week in dignified solitude and was very thankful for Sunday
We determined to make it a long lovely country Sunday so we began it at six am John took me a new walk across the common where—he said in answer to my question—we were quite certain NOT to meet Miss March
Do you experimentalize on the subject that you calculate her paths with such nicety Pray have you ever met her again for I know you have been out most mornings
Morning is the only time I have for walking you know Phineas
Ah true You have little pleasure at Enderley I almost wish we could go home
Dont think of such a thing It is doing you a world of good Indeed we must not on any account go home
I know and knew then that his anxiety was in earnest that whatever other thoughts might lie underneath the sincere thought of me was the one uppermost in his mind
Well well stay—that is if you are happy John
Thoroughly happy I like the dashing rides to Norton Bury Above all I like coming back The minute I begin to climb Enderley Hill the tanyard and all belonging to it drops off like an incubus and I wake into free beautiful life Now Phineas confess is not this common a lovely place especially of a morning
Ay said I smiling at his energy But you did not tell me whether you had met Miss March again
She has never once seen me
But you have seen her Answer honestly
Why should I not—Yes I have seen her—once or twice or so—but never in any way that could annoy her
That explains why you have become so well acquainted with the direction of her walks
He coloured deeply I hope Phineas you do not think that—that in any way I should intrude on or offend a lady
Nay dont take it so seriously—indeed I meant nothing of the kind It would be quite natural if a young man like you did use some pains to look at such a cunning piece of Natures handiwork as that applecheeked girl of seventeen
Russet apple She is brown you know—a real nutbrown mayde said John recovering his gay humour Certainly I like to look at her I have seen many a face that was more goodlooking—never one that looked half so good
Sententious that yet I could not smile—he spoke with such earnestness Besides it was the truth I myself would have walked halfway across the common any day for a glance at Miss March Why not he
But John you never told me that you had seen her again
Because you never asked me
We were silent Silent until we had walked along the whole length of a Roman encampment the most perfect of the various fosses that seamed the flat—tokens of many a battle fought on such capital battleground and which John had this morning especially brought me to look at
Yes I said at last putting the ending affirmative to a long train of thought which was certainly not about Roman encampments yes it is quite natural that you should admire her It would even be quite natural and not unlikely either if she—
Pshaw interrupted he What nonsense you are talking Impossible and setting his foot sharply upon a loose stone he kicked it down into the ditch where probably many a dead Roman had fallen before it in ages gone by
The impetuous gesture—the energetic impossible struck me less than the quickness with which his mind had worked out my unexpressed thought—carrying it to a greater length than I myself had ever contemplated
Truly no possibilities or impossibilities of THAT sort ever entered my head I only thought you might admire her and be unsettled thereby as young men are when they take fancies That would grieve me very much John
Dont let it then Why I have only seen her five times I never spoke to her in my life and most probably never shall do Could any one be in a safer position Besides and his tone changed to extreme gravity I have too many worldly cares to think of I cant afford the harmless little amusement of falling in love—so be easy Phineas
I smiled and we began a discussion on camps and fosses vallum and praetorium the Danes Saxons and Normans which doubtless we carried on to a most learned length but at this distance of time and indeed the very day after I plead guilty to having forgotten all about it
That long quiet Sunday when I remember the sun never came out all day but the whole earth and sky melted together in a soft grey haze when we lay on the common and heard churchbells ringing some distant some near and after all was quiet talked our own old sabbath talks of this world and the world to come when towards twilight we went down into the beechwood below the house and sat idly there among the pleasantsmelling ferns when from the morning to the evening he devoted himself altogether to my comfort and amusement—to perfect which required of him no harder duty than to be near me always—that Sunday was the last I ever had David altogether for my own—my very own
It was natural it was just it was right God forbid that in any way I should have murmured
About ten oclock—just as he was luring me out to see how grand the common looked under the black night and we were wondering whether or no the household were in bed—Mrs Tod came mysteriously into the parlour and shut the door after her Her round fresh face looked somewhat troubled
Mr Halifax might I speak a word to ee sir
With pleasure Sit down Mrs Tod Theres nothing wrong with your children
No I thankee You are very kind sir No it be about that poor Miss March
I could see Johns fingers twitch over the chair he was leaning on I hope— he began and stopped
Her father is dreadful bad tonight and its a good sevenmile walk to the doctors at S—— and Miss March says—that is she dont for I beant going to tell her a word about it—but I think Mr Halifax if I might make so bold it would be a great kindness in a young gentleman like you to lend Tod your mare to ride over and fetch the doctor
I will gladly At once
Tod beant come in yet
He shall have the mare with pleasure Tell Miss March so—I mean do not tell her of course It was very right of you to come to us in this way Mrs Tod Really it would be almost a treat to be ill in your house—you are so kind
Thankee Mr Halifax said the honest landlady greatly delighted But a body couldnt help doing anything for Miss March You would think so yourself if you only knew her
No doubt returned John more politely than warmly I fancied as he closed the door after the retreating figure of Mrs Tod But when he came and sat down again I saw he was rather thoughtful He turned the books restlessly one after the other and could not settle to anything To all my speculations about our sick neighbour and our pearl of kindhearted landladies he only replied in monosyllables at last he started up and said—
Phineas I think Ill go myself
Where
To fetch Doctor Brown If Tod is not come in it would be but a common charity And I know the way
But the dark night
Oh no matter the mare will be safer under me than a stranger And though I have taken good care that the three horses in the tanyard shall have the journey turn and turn about still its a good pull from here to Norton Bury and the mares my favourite I would rather take her myself
I smiled at his numerous good reasons for doing such a very simple thing and agreed that it was right and best he should do it
Then shall I call Mrs Tod and inquire Or perhaps it might make less fuss just to go and speak to her in the kitchen Will you Phineas or shall I
Scarcely waiting my answer we walked from our parlour into what I called the Debateable Land
No one was there We remained several minutes all alone listening to the groaning overhead
That must be Mr March John
I hear Good heavens how hard for her And she such a young thing and alone muttered he as he stood gazing into the dull wood embers of the kitchen fire I saw he was moved but the expression on his face was one of pure and holy compassion That at this moment no less unselfish feeling mingled with it I am sure
Mrs Tod appeared at the door leading to the other half of the cottage she was apparently speaking to Miss March on the staircase We heard again those clear quick decided tones but subdued to a halfwhisper
No Mrs Tod I am not sorry you did it—on my fathers account tis best Tell Mr—the young gentleman—I forget his name—that I am very much obliged to him
I will Miss March—stay he is just here—Bless us she has shut the door already—Wont you take a seat Mr Halifax Ill stir up the fire in a minute Mr Fletcher You are always welcome in my kitchen young gentlemen And Mrs Tod bustled about well aware what a cosy and cheerful oldfashioned kitchen it was especially of evenings
But when John explained the reason of our intrusion there was no end to her pleasure and gratitude He was the kindest young gentleman that ever lived—She would tell Miss March so as indeed she had done many a time
Miss said I to her the very first day I set eyes on you when I had told her how you came hunting for lodgings—she often has a chat with me quite freely being so lonesomelike and knowing I to be too proud to forget that shes a born lady—Miss said I who Mr Halifax may be I dont know but depend upon it hes a real gentleman
I was the sole amused auditor of this speech for John had vanished In a few minutes more he had brought the mare round and after a word or two with me was clattering down the road
I wondered whether this time any whitefurred wrist stirred the blind to watch him
John was away a wonderfully short time and the doctor rode back with him They parted at the gate and he came into our parlour his cheeks all glowing with the ride He only remarked that the autumn nights were getting chill and sat down The kitchen clock struck one
You ought to have been in bed hours ago Phineas Will you not go I shall sit up just a little while to hear how Mr March is
I should like to hear too It is curious the interest that one learns to take in people that are absolute strangers when shut up together in a lonely place like this especially when they are in trouble
Ay thats it said he quickly Its the solitude and their being in trouble Did you hear anything more while I was away
Only that Mr March was rather better and everybody had gone to bed except his daughter and Mrs Tod
Hark I think thats the doctor going away I wonder if one might ask—No they would think it intrusive He must be better But Dr Brown told me that in one of these paroxysms he might—Oh that poor young thing
Has she no relatives no brothers or sisters Doctor Brown surely knows
I did not like to ask but I fancy not However thats not my business my business is to get you off to bed Phineas Fletcher as quickly as possible
Wait one minute John Let us go and see if we can do anything more
Ay—if we can do anything more repeated he as we again recrossed the boundaryline and entered the Tod country
All was quiet there The kitchen fire burnt brightly and a cricket sang in merry solitude on the hearth the groans overhead were stilled but we heard low talking and presently stealthy footsteps crept downstairs It was Mrs Tod and Miss March
We ought to have left the kitchen I think John muttered something to that effect and even made a slight movement towards the door but—I dont know how it was—we stayed
She came and stood by the fire scarcely noticing us Her fresh cheeks were faded and she had the weary look of one who has watched for many hours Some sort of white dimity gown that she wore added to this paleness
I think he is better Mrs Tod—decidedly better said she speaking quickly You ought to go to bed now Let all the house be quiet I hope you told Mr—Oh—
She saw us stopped and for the moment the faintest tinge of her roses returned Presently she acknowledged us with a slight bend
John came forward I had expected some awkwardness on his part but no—he was thinking too little of himself for that His demeanour—earnest gentle kind—was the sublimation of all manly courtesy
I hope madam—young men used the deferential word in those days always—I do hope that Mr March is better We were unwilling to retire until we had heard
Thank you My father is much better You are very kind said Miss March with a maidenly dropping of the eyes
Indeed he is kind broke in the warmhearted Mrs Tod He rode all the way to S—— his own self to fetch the doctor
Did you sir I thought you only lent your horse
Oh I like a nightride And you are sure madam that your father is better Is there nothing else I can do for you
His sweet grave manner so much graver and older than his years softened too with that quiet deference which marked at once the man who reverenced all women simply for their womanhood—seemed entirely to reassure the young lady This and her own frankness of character made her forget as she apparently did the fact that she was a young lady and he a young gentleman meeting on unacknowledged neutral ground perfect strangers or knowing no more of one another than the mere surname
Nature sincerity and simplicity conquered all trammels of formal custom She held out her hand to him
I thank you very much Mr Halifax If I wanted help I would ask you indeed I would
Thank YOU Goodnight
He pressed the hand with reverence—and was gone I saw Miss March look after him then she turned to speak and smiled with me A light word an easy smile as to a poor invalid whom she had often pitied out of the fulness of her womanly heart
Soon I followed John into the parlour He asked me no questions made no remarks only took his candle and went upstairs
But years afterwards he confessed to me that the touch of that hand—it was a rather peculiar hand in the feel of it as the children say with a very soft palm and fingers that had a habit of perpetually fluttering like a little birds wing—the touch of that hand was to the young man like the revelation of a new world
CHAPTER XII
The next day John rode away earlier even than was his wont I thought He stayed but a little while talking with me While Mrs Tod was bustling over our breakfast he asked her in a grave and unconcerned manner How Mr March was this morning which was the only allusion he made to the previous nights occurrences
I had a long quiet day alone in the beechwood close below our cottage sitting by the little runnel now worn to a thread with the summer weather but singing still It talked to me like a living thing
When I came home in the evening Miss March stood in front of the cottage with—strange to say—her father But I had heard that his paroxysms were often of brief continuance and that like most confirmed valetudinarians when real danger stared him in the face he put it from him and was glad to be well
Seeing me coming Miss March whispered to him he turned upon me a listless gaze from over his fur collar and bowed languidly without rising from his easy chair Yes it was Mr March—the very Mr March we had met I knew him changed though he was but he did not know me in the least as indeed was not likely
His daughter came a step or two to meet me You are better I see Mr Fletcher Enderley is a most healthy place as I try to persuade my father This is Mr Fletcher sir the gentleman who—
Was so obliging as to ride to S—— last night for me Allow me to thank him myself
I began to disclaim and Miss March to explain but we must both have been slightly incoherent for I think the poor gentleman was never quite clear as to who it was that went for Dr Brown However that mattered little as his acknowledgments were evidently dictated more by a natural habit of courtesy than by any strong sense of service rendered
I am a very great invalid sir my dear will you explain to the gentleman And he leaned his head back wearily
My father has never recovered his ten years residence in the West Indies
Residence Pardon me my dear you forget I was governor of—
Oh yes—The climate is very trying there Mr Fletcher But since he has been in England—five years only—he has been very much better I hope he will be quite well in time
Mr March shook his head drearily Poor man the world of existence to him seemed to have melted lazily down into a mere nebula of which the forlorn nucleus was—himself What a life for any young creature—even his own daughter to be bound to continually
I could not help remarking the strong contrast between them He with his sallow delicatelyshaped features—the thin mouth and long straight nose of that form I have heard called the melancholy nose which usually indicates a feeble pensive and hypochondriac temperament while his daughter—But I have described her already
Mr Fletcher is an invalid too father she said so gently that I could feel no pain in her noticing my infirmity and took gratefully a seat she gave me beside that of Mr March She seemed inclined to talk to me and her manner was perfectly easy friendly and kind
We spoke of commonplace subjects near at hand and of the West Indian island which its late governor was apparently by no means inclined to forget I asked Miss March whether she had liked it
I was never there Papa was obliged to leave me behind in Wales—poor mammas country Were you ever in Wales I like it so Indeed I feel as if I belonged altogether to the mountains
And saying this she looked the very incarnation of the free mountain spirit—a little rugged perhaps and sharply outlined but that would soften with time and was better and wholesomer than any tame green level of soft perfection At least one inclined to think so looking at her
I liked Miss March very much and was glad of it
In retiring with her father leaning on her arm to which he hung trustingly and feebly as a child she turned abruptly and asked if she could lend me any books to read I must find the days long and dull without my friend
I assented with thanks and shortly afterwards she brought me an armful of literature—enough to have caused any young damsel to have been dubbed a blue in those matteroffact days
I have no time to study much myself said she in answer to my questions but I like those who do Now good evening for I must run You and your friend can have any books of ours You must not think—and she turned back to tell me this—that because my father said little he and I are not deeply grateful for the kindness Mr Halifax showed us last night
It was a pleasure to John—it always is—to do a kind office for any one
I well believe that Mr Fletcher And she left me
When John came home I informed him of what had passed He listened though he made no comment whatever But all the evening he sat turning over Miss Marchs books and reading either aloud or to himself fragments out of one—which I had expected he would have scouted inasmuch as it was modern not classical poetry in fact a collection of Lyrical Ballads brought out that year by a young man named Mr William Wordsworth and some anonymous friend conjointly I had opened it and found therein great nonsense but John had better luck—he hit upon a short poem called Love by the Anonymous Friend which he read and I listened to almost as if it had been Shakspeare It was about a girl named Genevieve—a little simple story—everybody knows it now but it was like a strange low mystic music luring the very heart out of ones bosom to us young visionaries then
I wonder if Miss March knew the harm she did and the mischief that has been done among young people in all ages since Caxtons days by the lending books especially books of poetry
The next day John was in a curious mood Dreamy lazy mild he sat poring indoors instead of roaming abroad—in truth was a changed lad I told him so and laid it all to the blame of the Anonymous Friend who held him in such fascinated thrall that he only looked up once all the morning—which was when Mr and Miss March went by In the afternoon he submitted lamblike to be led down to the beechwood—that the wonderful talking stream might hold forth to him as it did to me But it could not—ah no it could not Our lives though so close were yet as distinct as the musical living water and the motionless grey rock beside which it ran The one swept joyfully on to its appointed course the other—was what Heaven made it abode where Heaven placed it and likewise fulfilled its end
Coming back out of the little wood I took John a new way I had discovered through the prettiest undulating meadow halffield halforchard where trees loaded with ripening cider apples and green crabs made a variety among the natural foresters Under one of these as we climbed the slope—for field beechwood and common formed a gradual ascent—we saw a vacant table laid
A pretty piece of rusticity—domestic Arcadia on a small scale said John I should like to invite myself to tea with them Who can they be
Probably visitors Resident countryfolks like their meals best under a decent rooftree I should not wonder if this were not one of Mr Marchs vagaries
Dont say vagaries—he is an old man
Dont be reproachful—I shall say nought against him Indeed I have no opportunity for there they both are coming hither from the house
Sure enough they were—Miss March helping her father across the uneven bit of common to the gate which led to the field Precisely at that gate we all four met
Tis useless to escape them whispered I to John
I do not wish—why should I he answered and held the gate open for the father and daughter to go through She looked up and acknowledged him smiling I thought that smile and his courteous but far less frank response to it would have been all the greeting but no Mr Marchs dull perceptions had somehow been brightened up He stopped
Mr Halifax I believe
John bowed
They stood a moment looking at one another the tall stalwart young man so graceful and free in bearing and the old man languid sickly prematurely broken down
Sir said the elder and in his fixed gaze I fancied I detected something more than curiosity—something of the lingering pensiveness with which years ago he had turned back to look at John—as if the lad reminded him of some one he knew Sir I have to thank you—
Indeed no thanks are needed I sincerely hope you are better today
Mr March assented but Johns countenance apparently interested him so much that he forgot his usual complainings My daughter tells me you are our neighbours—I am happy to have such friendly ones My dear in a half audible pensive whisper to her I think your poor brother Walter would have grown up extremely like Mr—Mr—
Mr Halifax papa
Mr Halifax we are going to take tea under the trees there—my daughters suggestion—she is so fond of rurality Will you give us the pleasure of your company You and—here I must confess the second invitation came in reply to a glance of Miss Marchs—your friend
Of course we assented I considerably amused and not illpleased to see how naturally it fell out that when John appeared in the scene I Phineas subsided into the secondary character of Johns friend
Very soon—so soon that our novel position seemed like an adventure out of the Arabian Nights—we found ourselves established under the appletree between whose branches the low sun stole in kissing into red chestnut colour the hair of the nutbrowne mayde as she sat bareheaded pouring into small white china cups that dainty luxury tea She had on—not the grey gown but a white one worked in delicate muslin A bunch of those small pinkywhite roses that grew in such clusters about our parlour window nestled almost as if they were still growing in her fair maiden bosom
She apologized for little Jacks having stolen them from our domains for her—lucky Jack and received some brief and rather incoherent answer from John about being quite welcome
He sat opposite her—I by her side—she had placed me there It struck me as strange that though her manner to us both was thoroughly frank and kind it was a shade more frank more kind to me than to him Also I noted that while she chatted gaily with me John almost entirely confined his talk to her father
But the young lady listened—ay undoubtedly she listened—to every word that was said I did not wonder at it when his tongue was once unloosed few people could talk better than John Halifax Not that he was one of your showy conversationalists language was with him neither a science an art nor an accomplishment but a mere vehicle for thought the garb always chosen as simplest and fittest in which his ideas were clothed His conversation was never wearisome since he only spoke when he had something to say and having said it in the most concise and appropriate manner that suggested itself at the time he was silent and silence is a great and rare virtue at twenty years of age
We talked a good deal about Wales John had been there more than once in his journeyings and this fact seemed to warm Miss Marchs manner rather shy and reserved though it was at least to him She told us many an innocent tale of her life there—of her childish days and of her dear old governess whose name I remember was Cardigan She seemed to have grown up solely under that ladys charge It was not difficult to guess—though I forget whether she distinctly told us so—that poor mamma had died so early as to become a mere name to her orphan daughter She evidently owed everything she was to this good governess
My dear at last said Mr March rather testily you make rather too much of our excellent Jane Cardigan She is going to be married and she will not care for you now
Hush papa that is a secret at present Pray Mr Halifax do you know Norton Bury
The abruptness of the question startled John so that he only answered in a hurried affirmative Indeed Mr March left him no time for further explanation
I hate the place My late wifes cousins the Brithwoods of the Mythe with whom I have had—ahem—strong political differences—live there And I was once nearly drowned in the Severn close by
Papa dont speak of that please said Miss March hurriedly so hurriedly that I am sure she did not notice what would otherwise have been plain enough—Johns sudden and violent colour But the flush died down again—he never spoke a word And of course acting on his evident desire neither did I
For my part continued the young lady I have no dislike to Norton Bury Indeed I rather admired the place if I remember right
You have been there Though it was the simplest question Johns sudden look at her and the soft inflection of his voice struck me as peculiar
Once when I was about twelve years old But we will talk of something papa likes better I am sure papa enjoys this lovely evening Hark how the doves are cooing in the beechwood
I asked her if she had ever been in the beechwood
No she was quite unacquainted with its mysteries—the fernglades the woodbine tangles and the stream that if you listened attentively you could hear faintly gurgling even where we sat
I did not know there was a stream so near I have generally taken my walks across the Flat said Miss March smiling and then blushing at having done so though it was the faintest blush imaginable
Neither of us made any reply
Mr March settled himself to laziness and his armchair the conversation fell to the three younger persons—I may say the two—for I also seceded and left John master of the field It was enough for me to sit listening to him and Miss March as they gradually became more friendly a circumstance natural enough under the influence of that simple solitary place where all the pretences of etiquette seemed naturally to drop away leaving nothing but the forms dictated and preserved by true manliness and true womanliness
How young both looked how happy in their frank free youth with the sunrays slanting down upon them making a glory round either head and—as glory often does—dazzling painfully
Will you change seats with me Miss March—The sun will not reach your eyes here
She declined refusing to punish any one for her convenience
It would not be punishment said John so gravely that one did not recognize it for a pretty speech till it had passed—and went on with their conversation In the course of it he managed so carefully and at the same time so carelessly to interpose his broad hat between the sun and her that the fiery old king went down in splendour before she noticed that she had been thus guarded and sheltered Though she did not speak—why should she of such a little thing—yet it was one of those little things which often touch a woman more than any words
Miss March rose I should greatly like to hear your stream and its wonderful singing John Halifax had been telling how it held forth to me during my long lonely days—I wonder what it would say to me Can we hear it from the bottom of this field
Not clearly we had better go into the wood For I knew John would like that though he was too great a hypocrite to second my proposal by a single word
Miss March was more singleminded or else had no reason for being the contrary She agreed to my plan with childish eagerness Papa you wouldnt miss me—I shall not be away five minutes Then Mr Fletcher will you go with me
And I will stay beside Mr March so that he will not be left alone said John reseating himself
What did the lad do that for—why did he sit watching us so intently as I led Miss March down the meadow and into the wood It passed my comprehension
The young girl walked with me as she talked with me in perfect simplicity and frankness free from the smallest hesitation Even as the women I have known have treated me all my life—showing me that sisterly trust and sisterly kindness which have compensated in a measure for the solitary fate which it pleased Heaven to lay upon me which in any case conscience would have forced me to lay upon myself—that no woman should ever be more to me than a sister
Yet I watched her with pleasure—this young girl as she tripped on before me noticing everything enjoying everything She talked to me a good deal too about myself in her kindly way asking what I did all day—and if I were not rather dull sometimes in this solitary country lodging
I am dull occasionally myself or should be if I had time to think about it It is hard to be an only child
I told her I had never found it so
But then you have your friend Has Mr Halifax any brothers or sisters
None No relatives living
Ah a compassionate ejaculation as she pulled a woodbine spray and began twisting it with those neverquiet fingers of hers You and he seem to be great friends
John is a brother friend everything in the world to me
Is he He must be very good Indeed he looks so observed Miss March thoughtfully And I believe—at least I have often heard—that good men are rare
I had no time to enter into that momentous question when the origin of it himself appeared breaking through the bushes to join us
He apologized for so doing saying Mr March had sent him
You surely do not mean that you come upon compulsion What an ill compliment to this lovely wood
And the eyes of the nutbrowne mayde were a little mischievous John looked preternaturally grave as he said I trust you do not object to my coming
She smiled—so merrily that his slight haughtiness evaporated like mist before the sunbeams
I was obliged to startle you by jumping through the bushes for I heard my own name What terrible revelations has this friend of mine been making to you Miss March
He spoke gaily but I fancied he looked uneasy The young lady only laughed
I have a great mind not to tell you Mr Halifax
Not when I ask you
He spoke so seriously that she could choose but reply
Mr Fletcher was telling me three simple facts—First that you were an orphan without relatives Secondly that you were his dearest friend Thirdly—well I never compromise truth—that you were good
And you
The first I was ignorant of the second I had already guessed the third—
He gazed at her intently
The third I had likewise—not doubted
John made some hurried acknowledgment He looked greatly pleased—nay more than pleased—happy He walked forward by Miss Marchs side taking his natural place in the conversation while I as naturally as willingly fell behind But I heard all they said and joined in it now and then
Thus sometimes spoken to and sometimes left silent watching their two figures and idly noting their comparative heights—her head came just above Johns shoulder—I followed these young people through the quiet wood
Let me say a word about that wood—dear and familiar as it was Its like I have never since seen It was small—so small that in its darkest depths you might catch the sunshine lighting up the branches of its outside trees A young wood too—composed wholly of smoothbarked beeches and sturdy Scotch firs growing up side by side—the Adam and Eve in this forest Eden No old folk were there—no gnarled and withered foresters—every tree rose up upright in its youth and perfect after its kind There was as yet no choking undergrowth of vegetation nothing but mosses woodbine and ferns and between the boles of the trees you could trace vista after vista as between the slender pillars of a cathedral aisle
John pointed out all this to Miss March especially noticing the peculiar character of the two species of trees—the masculine and feminine—fir and beech She smiled at the fancy and much graceful badinage went on between them I had never before seen John in the company of women and I marvelled to perceive the refinement of his language and the poetic ideas it clothed I forgot the truth—of whose saying was it—that once in his life every man becomes a poet
They stood by the little rivulet and he showed her how the water came from the spring above the old wellhead where the cattle drank how it took its course merrily through the woods till at the bottom of the valley below it grew into a wide stream
Small beginnings make great endings observed Miss March sententiously
John answered her with the happiest smile He dipped his hollowed palm into the water and drank she did the same Then in her freehearted girlish fun she formed a cup out of a broad leaf which by the greatest ingenuity she managed to make contain about two teaspoonfuls of water for the space of half a minute and held it to my mouth
I am like Rebecca at the well Drink Eleazer she cried gaily
John looked on I am very thirsty too said he in a low voice
The young girl hesitated a moment then filled and offered to him the Arcadian cup I fear he drank out of it a deeper and more subtle draught than that innocent water
Both became somewhat grave and stood one on either side the stream looking down upon it letting its bubbling murmur have all the talk What it said I know not I only know that it did not could not say to those two what it said to me
When we took leave of our acquaintances Mr March was extremely courteous and declared our society would always be a pleasure to himself and his daughter
He always says so formally my daughter I observed breaking the silence in which they had left us I wonder what her Christian name is
I believe it is Ursula
How did you find that out
It is written in one of her books
Ursula I repeated wondering where I had heard it before A pretty name
A very pretty name
When John fell into this echo mood I always found it best to fall into taciturnity
CHAPTER XIII
Next day the rain poured down incessantly sweeping blindingly across the hills as I have rarely seen it sweep except at Enderley The weather had apparently broken up even thus early in the autumn and for that day and several days following we had nothing but wind rain and storm The sky was as dusky as Miss Marchs grey gown broken sometimes in the evening by a rift of misty gold gleaming over Nunnely Hill as if to show us what September sunsets might have been
John went every day to Norton Bury that week His mind seemed restless—he was doubly kind and attentive to me but every night I heard him go out in all the storm to walk upon the common I longed to follow him but it was best not
On the Saturday morning coming to breakfast I heard him ask Mrs Tod how Mr March was We knew the invalid had been ailing all the week nor had we seen him or his daughter once
Mrs Tod shook her head ominously He is very bad sir badder than ever I do think She sits up wi him best part of every night
I imagined so I have seen her light burning
Law Mr Halifax you dont be walking abroad of nights on the Flat Its terrible bad for your health cried the honest soul who never disguised the fact that Mr Halifax was her favourite of all her lodgers save and except Miss March
Thank you for considering my health he replied smiling Only tell me Mrs Tod can anything be done—can we do anything for that poor gentleman
Nothing sir—thankee all the same
If he should grow worse let me go for Doctor Brown I shall be at home all day
Ill tell Miss March of your kindness sir said Mrs Tod as with a troubled countenance she disappeared
Were you not going to Norton Bury today John
I was—but—as it is a matter of no moment I have changed my mind You have been left so much alone lately Nay—Ill not disguise the truth I had another reason
May I know it
Of course you may It is about our fellowlodgers Doctor Brown—I met him on the road this morning—told me that her father cannot live more than a few days—perhaps a few hours And she does not know it
He leaned on the mantelpiece I could see he was very much affected
So was I
Her relatives—surely they ought to be sent for
She has none Doctor Brown said she once told him so none nearer than the Brithwoods of the Mythe—and we know what the Brithwoods are
A young gentleman and his young wife—proverbially the gayest proudest most lighthearted of all our country families
Nay Phineas I will not have you trouble yourself And after all they are mere strangers—mere strangers Come sit down to breakfast
But he could not eat He could not talk of ordinary things Every minute he fell into abstractions At length he said suddenly
Phineas I do think it is wicked downright wicked for a doctor to be afraid of telling a patient he is going to die—more wicked perhaps to keep the friends in ignorance until the last stunning blow falls She ought to be told she must be told she may have many things to say to her poor father And God help her for such a stroke she ought to be a little prepared It might kill her else
He rose up and walked about the room The seal once taken from his reserve he expressed himself to me freely as he had used to do—perhaps because at this time his feelings required no disguise The dreams which might have peopled that beautiful sunset wood necessarily faded in an atmosphere like this—filled with the solemn gloom of impending death
At last he paused in his hurried walk quieted perhaps by what he might have read in my everfollowing eyes
I know you are as grieved as I am Phineas What can we do Let us forget that they are strangers and act as one Christian ought to another Do YOU not think she ought to be told
Most decidedly They might get further advice
That would be vain Dr Brown says it is a hopeless case has been so for long but he would not believe it nor have his daughter told He clings to life desperately How horrible for her
You think most of her
I do said he firmly He is reaping what he sowed poor man God knows I pity him But she is as good as an angel of heaven
It was evident that somehow or other John had learnt a great deal about the father and daughter However now was not the time to question him For at this moment through the opened doors we heard faint moans that pierced the whole house and too surely came from the sick—possibly the dying—man Mrs Tod who had been seeing Dr Brown to his horse now entered our parlour—pale with swollen eyes
Oh Mr Halifax and the kind soul burst out into crying afresh John made her sit down and gave her a glass of wine
Ive been with them since four this morning and it makes me weakly like said she That poor Mr March—I didnt like him very much alive but I do feel so sorry now hes adying
Then he WAS dying
Does his daughter know I asked
No—no—I dare not tell her Nobody dare
Does she not guess it
Not a bit Poor young body shes never seen anybody so She fancies him no worse than he has been and has got over it She WOULDNT think else She be a good daughter to him—that she be
We all sat silent and then John said in a low voice—Mrs Tod she ought to be told—and you would be the best person to tell her
But the softhearted landlady recoiled from the task If Tod were at home now—he that is so full o wisdom learnt in the kirk—
I think said John hastily interrupting that a woman would be the best But if you object and as Doctor Brown will not be here till tomorrow—and as there is no one else to perform such a trying duty—it seems—that is I believe—here his rather formal speech failed He ended it abruptly—If you like I will tell her myself
Mrs Tod overwhelmed him with thankfulness
How shall I meet her then If it were done by chance it would be best
Ill manage it somehow The house is very quiet Ive sent all the children away except the baby The babyll comfort her poor dear afterwards And again drying her honest eyes Mrs Tod ran out of the room
We could do nothing at all that morning The impending sorrow might have been our own instead of that of people who three weeks ago were perfect strangers We sat and talked—less perhaps of them individually than of the dark Angel whom face to face I at least had never yet known—who even now stood at the door of our little habitation making its various inmates feel as one family in the presence of the great leveller of all things—Death
Hour by hour of that long day the rain fell down—pouring pouring—shutting us up as it were from the world without and obliterating every thought save of what was happening under our one roof—that awful change which was taking place in the upper room in the other half of the house whence the moans descended and whence Mrs Tod came out from time to time hurrying mournfully to inform Mr Halifax how things went on
It was nearly dusk before she told us Mr March was asleep that his daughter had at last been persuaded to come downstairs and was standing drinking a cup o tea by the kitchen fire
You must go now sir shell not stop five minutes Please go
I will he answered but he turned frightfully pale Phineas—dont let her see us both Stay without the door If there were anybody to tell her this but me
Do you hesitate
No—No
And he went out I did not follow him but I heard afterwards both from himself and Mrs Tod what transpired
She was standing so absorbed that she did not notice his entrance She looked years older and sadder than the young girl who had stood by the streamside less than a week ago When she turned and spoke to John it was with a manner also changed No hesitation no shyness trouble had put aside both
Thank you my father is indeed seriously ill I am in great trouble you see though Mrs Tod is very very kind Dont cry so good Mrs Tod I cant cry I dare not If I once began I should never stop and then how could I help my poor father There now there
She laid her hand with its soft fluttering motions on the good womans shoulder and looked up at John He said afterwards that those dry tearless eyes smote him to the heart
Why does she sob so Mr Halifax Papa will be better tomorrow I am sure
I HOPE so he answered dwelling on the word we should always hope to the very last
The last with a quick startled glance
And then we can only trust
Something more than the MERE words struck her She examined him closely for a minute
You mean—yes—I understand what you mean But you are mistaken The doctor would have told me—if—if— she shivered and left the sentence unfinished
Dr Brown was afraid—we were all afraid broke in Mrs Tod sobbing Only Mr Halifax he said—
Miss March turned abruptly to John That woeful gaze of hers could be answered by no words I believe he took her hand but I cannot tell One thing I can tell for she said it to me herself afterwards that he seemed to look down upon her like a strong pitiful comforting angel a messenger sent by God
Then she broke away and flew upstairs John came in again to me and sat down He did not speak for many minutes
After an interval—I know not how long—we heard Mrs Tod calling loudly for Mr Halifax We both ran through the empty kitchen to the foot of the stairs that led to Mr Marchs room
Mr Marchs room Alas he owned nothing now on this fleeting perishable earth of ours He had gone from it the spirit stealing quietly away in sleep He belonged now to the world everlasting
Peace be to him whatever his life had been he was HER father
Mrs Tod sat halfway down the staircase holding Ursula March across her knees The poor creature was insensible or nearly so She—we learnt—had been composed under the terrible discovery made when she returned to his room and when all restorative means failed the fact of death became certain she had herself closed her fathers eyes and kissed him then tried to walk from the room—but at the third step she dropped quietly down
There she lay physical weakness conquering the strong heart she lay overcome at last There was no more to bear Had there been I think she would have been able to have borne it still
John took her in his arms I know not if he took her or Mrs Tod gave her to him—but there she was He carried her across the kitchen into our own little parlour and laid her down on my sofa
Shut the door Phineas Mrs Tod keep everybody out She is waking now
She did indeed open her eyes with a long sigh but closed them again Then with an effort she sat upright and looked at us all around
Oh my dear my dear moaned Mrs Tod clasping her and sobbing over her like a child Cry do cry
I CANT she said and lay down again
We stood awed watching that poor pale face on every line of which was written stunned motionless impassive grief For John—two minutes of such a gaze as his might in a mans heart do the work of years
She must be roused he said at last She MUST cry Mrs Tod take her upstairs Let her look at her father
The word effected what he desired what almost her life demanded She clung round Mrs Tods neck in torrents of weeping
Now Phineas let us go away
And he went walking almost like one blindfold straight out of the house I following him
CHAPTER XIV
I am quite certain Mrs Tod that it would be much better for her and if she consents it shall be so said John decisively
We three were consulting the morning after the death on a plan which he and I had already settled between ourselves namely that we should leave our portion of the cottage entirely at Miss Marchs disposal while we inhabited hers—save that locked and silent chamber wherein there was no complaining no suffering now
Either Johns decision or Mrs Tods reasoning was successful we received a message to the effect that Miss March would not refuse our kindness So we vacated and all that long Sunday we sat in the parlour lately our neighbours heard the rain come down and the church bells ring the wind blowing autumn gales and shaking all the windows even that of the room overhead It sounded awful THERE We were very glad the poor young orphan was away
On the Monday morning we heard going upstairs the heavy footsteps that every one at some time or other has shuddered at then the hammering Mrs Tod came in and told us that no one—not even his daughter—could be allowed to look at what had been poor Mr March any more All with him was ended
The funeral is to be soon I wonder what she will do then poor thing
John made me no answer
Is she left well provided for do you think
It is impossible to say
His answers were terse and brief enough but I could not help talking about the poor young creature and wondering if she had any relative or friend to come to her in this sad time
She said—do you remember when she was crying—that she had not a friend in the wide world
And this fact which he expressed with a sort of triumph seemed to afford the greatest possible comfort to John
But all our speculations were set at rest by a request brought this moment by Mrs Tod—that Mr Halifax would go with her to speak to Miss March
I only I said John starting
Only you sir She wants somebody to speak to about the funeral—and I said There be Mr Halifax Miss March the kindest gentleman and she said if it wouldnt trouble him to come—
Tell her I am coming
When after some time he returned he was very serious
Wait a minute Phineas and you shall hear I feel confused rather It is so strange her trusting me thus I wish I could help her more
Then he told me all that had passed—how he and Mrs Tod had conjointly arranged the hasty funeral—how brave and composed she had been—that poor child all alone
Has she indeed no one to help her
No one She might send for Mr Brithwood but he was not friendly with her father she said she had rather ask this kindness of me because her father had liked me and thought I resembled their Walter who died
Poor Mr March—perhaps he is with Walter now But John can you do all that is necessary for her You are very young
She does not seem to feel that She treats me as if I were a man of forty Do I look so old and grave Phineas
Sometimes And about the funeral
It will be very simple She is determined to go herself She wishes to have no one besides Mrs Tod you and me
Where is he to be buried
In the little churchyard close by which you and I have looked at many a time Ah Phineas we did not think how soon we should be laying our dead there
Not OUR dead thank God
But the next minute I understood OUR dead—the involuntary admission of that sole feeling which makes one erewhile a stranger say to or think of another—All thine are mine and mine are thine henceforward and for ever
I watched John as he stood by the fire his thoughtful brow and firmset lips contradicting the youthfulness of his looks Few as were his years he had learnt much in them He was at heart a man ready and able to design and carry out a mans work in the world And in his whole aspect was such grave purity such honest truth that no wonder young as they both were and little as she knew of him this poor orphan should not have feared to trust him entirely And there is nothing that binds heart to heart of lovers or friends so quickly and so safely as to trust and be trusted in time of trouble
Did she tell you any more John Anything of her circumstances
No But from something Mrs Tod let fall I fear—and he vainly tried to disguise his extreme satisfaction—that she will be left with little or nothing
Poor Miss March
Why call her poor She is not a woman to be pitied but to be honoured You would have thought so had you seen her this morning So gentle—so wise—so brave Phineas—and I could see his lips tremble—that was the kind of woman Solomon meant when he said Her price was above rubies
I think so too I doubt not that when she marries Ursula March will be a crown to her husband
My words or the half sigh that accompanied them—I could not help it—seemed to startle John but he made no remark Nor did we recur to the subject again that day
Two days after our little company followed the coffin out of the woodbine porch—where we had last said goodbye to poor Mr March—across the few yards of common to the churchyard scarcely larger than a cottage garden where at long intervals the few Enderley dead were laid
A small procession—the daughter first supported by good Mrs Tod then John Halifax and I So we buried him—the stranger who at this time and henceforth seemed even as John had expressed it our dead our own
We followed the orphan home She had walked firmly and stood by the graveside motionless her hood drawn over her face But when we came back to Rose Cottage door and she gave a quick startled glance up at the familiar window we saw Mrs Tod take her unresisting into her motherly arms—then we knew how it would be
Come away said John in a smothered voice—and we came away
All that day we sat in our parlour—Mr Marchs parlour that had been—where through the no longer darkened casement the unwonted sun poured in We tried to settle to our ordinary ways and feel as if this were like all other days—our old sunshiny days at Enderley But it would not do Some imperceptible but great change had taken place It seemed a year since that Saturday afternoon when we were drinking tea so merrily under the appletree in the field
We heard no more from Miss March that day The next we received a message of thanks for our kindness She had given way at last Mrs Tod said and kept her chamber not seriously ill but in spirit thoroughly broken down For three days more when I went to meet John returning from Norton Bury I could see that his first glance as he rode up between the chestnut trees was to the window of the room that had been mine I always told him without his asking whatever Mrs Tod had told me about her state he used to listen generally in silence and then speak of something else He hardly ever mentioned Miss Marchs name
On the fourth morning I happened to ask him if he had told my father what had occurred here
No
I looked surprised
Did you wish me to tell him I will if you like Phineas
Oh no He takes little interest in strangers
Soon after as he lingered about the parlour John said
Probably I may be late tonight After business hours I want to have a little talk with your father
He stood irresolutely by the fire I knew by his countenance that there was something on his mind
David
Ay lad
Will you not tell me first what you want to say to my father
I cant stay now Tonight perhaps But pshaw what is there to be told Nothing
Anything that concerns you can never be to me quite nothing
I know that he said affectionately and went out of the room
When he came in he looked much more cheerful—stood switching his ridingwhip after the old habit and called upon me to admire his favourite brown mare
I do and her master likewise John when youre on horseback you look like a young knight of the Middle Ages Maybe some of the old Norman blood was in Guy Halifax gentleman
It was a dangerous allusion He changed colour so rapidly and violently that I thought I had angered him
No—that would not matter—cannot—cannot—never shall I am what God made me and what with His blessing I will make myself
He said no more and very soon afterwards he rode away But not before as every day I had noticed that wistful wandering glance up at the darkened window of the room where sad and alone save for kindly Mrs Tod the young orphan lay
In the evening just before bedtime he said to me with a rather sad smile Phineas you wanted to know what it was that I wished to speak about to your father
Ay do tell me
It is hardly worth telling Only to ask him how he set up in business for himself He was I believe little older than I am now
Just twentyone
And I shall be twentyone next June
Are you thinking of setting up for yourself
A likely matter and he laughed rather bitterly I thought—when every trade requires capital and the only trade I thoroughly understand a very large one No no Phineas youll not see me setting up a rival tanyard next year My capital is NIL
Except youth health courage honour honesty and a few other such trifles
None of which I can coin into money however And your father has expressly told me that without money a tanner can do nothing
Unless as was his own case he was taken into some partnership where his services were so valuable as to be received instead of capital True my father earned little at first scarcely more than you earn now but he managed to live respectably and in course of time to marry
I avoided looking at John as I said the last word He made no answer but in a little time he came and leaned over my chair
Phineas you are a wise counsellor—a brother born for adversity I have been vexing myself a good deal about my future but now I will take heart Perhaps some day neither you nor any one else will be ashamed of me
No one could even now seeing you as you really are
As John Halifax not as the tanners prentice boy Oh lad—there the goad sticks Here I forget everything unpleasant I am my own free natural self but the minute I get back to Norton Bury—however it is a wrong a wicked feeling and must be kept down Let us talk of something else
Of Miss March She has been greatly better all day
She No not her tonight he said hurriedly Pah I could almost fancy the odour of these hides on my hands still Give me a candle
He went upstairs and only came down a few minutes before bedtime
Next morning was Sunday After the bells had done ringing we saw a blackveiled figure pass our window Poor girl—going to church alone We followed—taking care that she should not see us either during service or afterwards We did not see anything more of her that day
On Monday a message came saying that Miss March would be glad to speak with us both Of course we went
She was sitting quite alone in our old parlour very grave and pale but perfectly composed A little more womanlylooking in the dignity of her great grief which girl as she was and young men as we were seemed to be to her a shield transcending all worldly proprieties
As she rose and we shook hands in a silence only broken by the rustle of her black dress not one of us thought—surely the most evilminded gossip could not have dared to think—that there was anything strange in her receiving us here We began to talk of common things—not THE thing She seemed to have fought through the worst of her trouble and to have put it back into those deep quiet chambers where all griefs go never forgotten never removed but sealed up in silence as it should be Perhaps too—for let us not exact more from Nature than Nature grants—the wide wide difference in character temperament and sympathies between Miss March and her father unconsciously made his loss less a heartloss total and irremediable than one of mere habit and instinctive feeling which the first shock over would insensibly heal Besides she was young—young in life in hope in body and soul and youth though it grieves passionately cannot for ever grieve
I saw and rejoiced to see that Miss March was in some degree herself again at least so much of her old self as was right natural and good for her to be
She and John conversed a good deal Her manner to him was easy and natural as to a friend who deserved and possessed her warm gratitude his was more constrained Gradually however this wore away there was something in her which piercing all disguises went at once to the heart of things She seemed to hold in her hand the touchstone of truth
He asked—no I believe I asked her how long she intended staying at Enderley
I can hardly tell Once I understood that my cousin Richard Brithwood was left my guardian This my fa—this was to have been altered I believe I wish it had been You know Norton Bury Mr Halifax
I live there
Indeed—with some surprise Then you are probably acquainted with my cousin and his wife
No but I have seen them
John gave these answers without lifting his eyes
Will you tell me candidly—for I know nothing of her and it is rather important that I should learn—what sort of person is Lady Caroline
This frank question put directly and guarded by the battery of those innocent girlish eyes was a very hard question to be answered for Norton Bury had said many illnatured things of our young squires wife whom he married at Naples from the house of the wellknown Lady Hamilton
She was you are aware Lady Caroline Ravenel the Earl of Luxmores daughter
Yes yes but that does not signify I know nothing of Lord Luxmore—I want to know what she is herself
John hesitated then answered as he could with truth She is said to be very charitable to the poor pleasant and kindhearted But if I may venture to hint as much not exactly the friend whom I think Miss March would choose or to whom she would like to be indebted for anything but courtesy
That was not my meaning I need not be indebted to any one Only if she were a good woman Lady Caroline would have been a great comfort and a useful adviser to one who is scarcely eighteen and I believe an heiress
An heiress The colour flashed in a torrent over Johns whole face then left him pale I—pardon me—I thought it was otherwise Allow me to—to express my pleasure—
It does not add to mine said she halfsighing Jane Cardigan always told me riches brought many cares Poor Jane I wish I could go back to her—but that is impossible
A silence here intervened which it was necessary some one should break
So much good can be done with a large fortune I said
Yes I know not if mine is very large indeed I never understood money matters but have merely believed what—what I was told However be my fortune much or little I will try to use it well
I am sure you will
John said nothing but his eyes sad indeed yet lit with a proud tenderness rested upon her as she spoke Soon after he rose up to take leave
Do not go yet I want to ask about Norton Bury I had no idea you lived there And Mr Fletcher too
I replied in the affirmative
In what part of the town
On the Coltham Road near the Abbey
Ah those Abbey chimes—how I used to listen to them night after night when the pain kept me awake
What pain asked John suddenly alive to any suffering of hers
Miss March smiled almost like her old smile Oh I had nearly forgotten it though it was very bad at the time only that I cut my wrist rather dangerously with a bread knife in a struggle with my nurse
When was that eagerly inquired John
For me I said nothing Already I guessed all Alas the tide of fate was running strong against my poor David What could I do but stand aside and watch
When was it Let me see—five six years ago But indeed tis nothing
Not exactly nothing Do tell me
And John stood listening for her words counting them even as one would count drop by drop a vial of joy which is nearly empty yet Times remorseless hand still keeps on pouring pouring
Well if you must know it it was one of my naughtinesses—I was very naughty as a child They would not let me have a piece of bread that I wanted to give away to a poor lad
Who stood opposite—under an alley—in the rain—was it not so
How could you know But he looked so hungry I was so sorry for him
Were you—in a tone almost inaudible
I have often thought of him since when I chanced to look at this mark
Let me look at it—may I
Taking her hand he softly put back the sleeve discovering just above the wrist a deep discoloured seam He gazed at it his features all quivering then without a word either of adieu or apology he quitted the room
CHAPTER XV
I was left with Miss March alone She sat looking at the door where John had disappeared in extreme surprise not unmingled with a certain embarrassment
What does he mean Mr Fletcher Can I have offended him in any way
Indeed no
Why did he go away
But that question simple as it was in itself and most simply put involved so much that I felt I had no right to answer it while at the same time I had no possible right to use any of those disguises or prevarications which are always foolish and perilous and very frequently wrong Nor even had I desired was Miss March the woman to whom one dared offer the like therefore I said to her plainly
I know the reason I would tell you but I think John would prefer telling you himself
As he pleases returned Miss March a slight reserve tempering her frank manner but it soon vanished and she began talking to me in her usual friendly way asking me many questions about the Brithwoods and about Norton Bury I answered them freely—my only reservation being that I took care not to give any information concerning ourselves
Soon afterwards as John did not return I took leave of her and went to our own parlour
He was not there He had left word with little Jack who met him on the common that he was gone a long walk and should not return till dinnertime Dinnertime came but I had to dine alone It was the first time I ever knew him break even such a trivial promise My heart misgave me—I spent a miserable day I was afraid to go in search of him lest he should return to a dreary empty parlour Better when he did come in that he should find a cheerful hearth and—me
Me his friend and brother who had loved him these six years better than anything else in the whole world Yet what could I do now Fate had taken the sceptre out of my hands—I was utterly powerless I could neither give him comfort nor save him pain any more
What I felt then in those long still hours many a one has felt likewise many a parent over a child many a sister over a brother many a friend over a friend A feeling natural and universal Let those who suffer take it patiently as the common lot let those who win hold the former ties in tenderest reverence nor dare to flaunt the new bond cruelly in the face of the old
Having said this which being the truth it struck me as right to say I will no more allude to the subject
In the afternoon there occurred an incident A coachandfour resplendent in liveries stopped at the door I knew it well and so did all Norton Bury It was empty but Lady Carolines own maid—so I heard afterwards—sat in the rumble and Lady Carolines own blackeyed Neapolitan page leaped down bearing a large letter which I concluded was for Miss March
I was glad that John was not at home glad that the coach with all its fine paraphernalia was away empty as it had arrived before John came in
He did not come till it was nearly dusk I was at the window looking at my four poplartrees as they pointed skywards like long fingers stretching up out of the gloom when I saw him crossing the common At first I was going to meet him at the gate but on second thoughts I remained within and only stirred up the fire which could be seen shining ever so far
What a bright blaze— Nay you have not waited dinner I hope— Tea—yes thats far better I have had such a long walk and am so tired
The words were cheerful so was the tone TOO cheerful—oh by far The sort of cheerfulness that strikes to a friends heart like the piping of soldiers as they go away back from a newlyfilled grave
Where have you been John
All over Nunnely Hill I must take you there—such expansive views As Mrs Tod informed me quoting some local ballad which she said was written by an uncle of hers
There you may spy
Twentythree churches with the glass and the eye
Remarkable fact isnt it
Thus he kept on talking all teatime incessantly rapidly talking It was enough to make one weep
After tea I insisted on his taking my armchair saying that after such a walk in that raw day he must be very cold
Not the least—quite the contrary—feel my hand It was burning But I am tired—thoroughly tired
He leaned back and shut his eyes Oh the utter weariness of body and soul that was written on his face
Why did you go out alone John you know that you have always me
He looked up smiling But the momentary brightness passed Alas I was not enough to make him happy now
We sat silent I knew he would speak to me in time but the gates of his heart were close locked It seemed as if he dared not open them lest the flood should burst forth and overwhelm us
At nine oclock Mrs Tod came in with supper She had always something or other to say especially since the late events had drawn the whole household of Rose Cottage so closely together now she was brimfull of news
She had been all that evening packing up for poor dear Miss March though why she should call her poor truly she didnt know Who would have thought Mr March had such grand relations Had we seen Lady Caroline Brithwoods coach that came that day Such a beautiful coach it was—sent on purpose for Miss March—only she wouldnt go But now she has made up her mind poor dear She is leaving tomorrow
When John heard this he was helping Mrs Tod as usual to fasten the heavy shutters He stood with his hand on the bolt motionless till the good woman was gone Then he staggered to the mantelpiece and leaned on it with both his elbows his hands covering his face
But there was no disguise now—no attempt to make it A young mans first love—not first fancy but first love—in all its passion desperation and pain—had come to him as it comes to all I saw him writhing under it—saw and could not help him The next few silent minutes were very bitter to us both
Then I said gently David
Well
I thought things were so
Yes
Suppose you were to talk to me a little—it might do you good
Another time Let me go out—out into the air Im choking
Snatching up his hat he rushed from me I did not dare to follow
After waiting some time and listening till all was quiet in the house I could bear the suspense no longer and went out
I thought I should find him on the Flat—probably in his favourite walk his terrace as he called it where he had first seen and must have seen many a day after that girlish figure tripping lightly along through the morning sunshine and morning dew I had a sort of instinct that he would be there now so I climbed up the shortest way often losing my footing for it was a pitchdark night and the common looked as wide and black and still as a midnight sea
John was not there indeed if he had been I could scarcely have seen him I could see nothing but the void expanse of the Flat or looking down the broad river of mist that rolled through the valley on the other side of which twinkled a few cottage lights like unearthly beacons from the farthest shore of an impassable flood
Suddenly I remembered hearing Mrs Tod say that on account of its pits and quarries the common was extremely dangerous after dark except to those who knew it well In a horrible dread I called out Johns name—but nothing answered I went on blindly desperately shouting as I went At length in one of the Roman fosses I stumbled and fell Some one came darting with great leaps through the mist and lifted me up
Oh David—David
Phineas—is that you You have come out this bitter night—why did you
His tenderness over me even then made me break down I forgot my manhood or else it slipped from me unawares In the old Bible language I fell on his neck and wept
Afterwards I was not sorry for this because I think my weakness gave him strength I think amidst the whirl of passion that racked him it was good for him to feel that the one crowning cup of life is not inevitably lifes sole sustenance that it was something to have a friend and brother who loved him with a love—like Jonathans—passing the love of women
I have been very wrong he kept repeating in a broken voice but I was not myself I am better now Come—let us go home
He put his arm round me to keep me warm and brought me safely into the house He even sat down by the fire to talk with me Whatever struggle there had been I saw it was over he looked his own self—only so very very pale—and spoke in his natural voice ay even when mentioning HER which he was the first to do
She goes tomorrow you are sure Phineas
I believe so Shall you see her again
If she desires it
Shall you say anything to her
Nothing If for a little while—not knowing or not thinking of all the truth—I felt I had strength to remove all impediments I now see that even to dream of such things makes me a fool or possibly worse—a knave I will be neither—I will be a man
I replied not how could one answer such words—calmly uttered though each syllable must have been torn out like a piece of his heart
Did she say anything to you Did she ask why I left her so abruptly this morning
She did I said you would probably tell her the reason yourself
I will She must no longer be kept in ignorance about me or my position I shall tell her the whole truth—save one thing She need never know that
I guessed by his broken voice what the one thing was—which he counted as nothing but which I think any true woman would have counted worth everything—the priceless gift of a good mans love Love that in such a nature as his if once conceived would last a lifetime And she was not to know it I felt sorry—ay even sorry for Ursula March
Do you not think I am right Phineas
Perhaps I cannot say You are the best judge
It is right said he firmly There can be no possible hope for me nothing remains but silence
I did not quite agree with him I could not see that to any young man only twenty years old with the world all before him any love could be absolutely hopeless especially to a young man like John Halifax But as things now stood I deemed it best to leave him altogether to himself offering neither advice nor opinion What Providence willed through HIS will would happen for me to interfere either way would be at once idle and perilous nay in some sense exceedingly wrong
So I kept my thoughts to myself and preserved a total silence
John broke it—talking to himself as if he had forgotten I was by
To think it was she who did it—that first kindness to a poor friendless boy I never forgot it—never It did me more good than I can tell And that scar on her poor arm—her dear little tender arm—how this morning I would have given all the world to—
He broke off—instinctively as it were—with the sort of feeling every good man has that the sacred passion the inmost tenderness of his love should be kept wholly between himself and the woman he has chosen
I knew that too knew that in his heart had grown up a secret a necessity a desire stronger than any friendship—closer than the closest bond of brotherly love Perhaps—I hardly know why—I sighed
John turned round—Phineas you must not think—because of this—which you will understand for yourself I hope one day you must not think I could ever think less or feel less about my brother
He spoke earnestly with a full heart We clasped hands warmly and silently Thus was healed my last lingering pain—I was thenceforward entirely satisfied
I think we parted that night as we had never parted before feeling that the trial of our friendship—the great trial perhaps of any friendship—had come and passed safely that whatever new ties might gather round each our two hearts would cleave together until death
The next morning rose as I have seen many a morning rise at Enderley—misty and grey but oh so heavenly fair with a pearly network of dewy gossamer under foot and overhead countless thistle downs flying about like fairy chariots hurrying out of sight of the sun which had only mounted high enough above the Flat to touch the horizon of hills opposite and the tops of my four poplars leaving Rose Cottage and the valley below it all in morning shadow John called me to go with him on the common his voice sounded so cheerful outside my door that it was with a glad heart I rose and went
He chose his old walk—his terrace No chance now of meeting the light figure coming tripping along the level hill All that dream was now over He did not speak of it—nor I He seemed contented—or at least thoroughly calmed down except that the sweet composure of his mien had settled into the harder gravity of manhood The crisis and climax of youth had been gone through—he never could be a boy again
We came to that part of Johns terrace which overhung the churchyard Both of us glanced instinctively down to the heap of loose red earth—the as yet nameless grave Some one stood beside it—the only one who was likely to be there
Even had I not recognized her Johns manner would have told me who it was A deadly paleness overspread his face—its quietness was gone—every feature trembled It almost broke my heart to see how deeply this love had struck its roots down to the very core of his twisting them with every fibre of his being A love which though it had sprung up so early and come to maturity so fast might yet be the curse of his whole existence Save that no love conceived virtuously for a good woman be it ever so hopeless can be rightly considered as a curse
Shall we go away I whispered—a long walk—to the other side of the Flat She will have left Rose Cottage soon
When
Before noon I heard Come David
He suffered me to put my arm in his and draw him away for a step or two then turned
I cant Phineas I cant I MUST look at her again—only for one minute—one little minute
But he stayed—we were standing where she could not see us—till she had slowly left the grave We heard the click of the churchyard gate where she went afterward we could not discern
John moved away I asked him if we should take our walk now But he did not seem to hear me so I let him follow his own way—perhaps it might be for good—who could tell
He descended from the Flat and came quickly round the corner of the cottage Miss March stood there trying to find one fresh rose among the fastwithering clusters about what had been our parlour window and now was hers
She saw us acknowledged us but hurriedly and not without some momentary signs of agitation
The roses are all gone she said rather sadly
Perhaps higher up I can reach one—shall I try
I marvelled to see that Johns manner as he addressed her was just like his manner always with her
Thank you—that will do I wanted to take some away with me—I am leaving Rose Cottage today Mr Halifax
So I have heard
He did not say sorry to hear I wondered did the omission strike her But no—she evidently regarded us both as mere acquaintances inevitably perhaps even tenderly bound up with this time and as such claiming a more than ordinary place in her regard and remembrance No man with common sense or common feeling could for a moment dare to misinterpret the emotion she showed
Reentering the house she asked us if we would come in with her she had a few things to say to us And then she again referred gratefully to our kindness
We all went once more—for the last time—into the little parlour Yes—I am going away said she mournfully
We hope all good will go with you—always and everywhere
Thank you Mr Fletcher
It was strange the grave tone our intercourse now invariably assumed We might have been three old people who had long fought with and endured the crosses of the world instead of two young men and a young woman in the very dawn of life
Circumstances have fixed my plans since I saw you yesterday I am going to reside for a time with my cousins the Brithwoods It seems best for me Lady Caroline is very kind and I am so lonely
She said this not in any complaint but as if accepting the fact and making up her mind to endure it A little more fragmentary conversation passed chiefly between herself and me—John uttered scarcely a word He sat by the window half shading his face with his hand Under that covert the gaze which incessantly followed and dwelt on her face—oh had she seen it
The moments narrowed Would he say what he had intended concerning his position in the world Had she guessed or learned anything or were we to her simply Mr Halifax and Mr Fletcher—two gentlemen of Norton Bury It appeared so
This is not a very long goodbye I trust said she to me with something more than courtesy I shall remain at the Mythe House some weeks I believe How long do you purpose staying at Enderley
I was uncertain
But your home is in Norton Bury I hope—I trust you will allow my cousin to express in his own house his thanks and mine for your great kindness during my trouble
Neither of us answered Miss March looked surprised—hurt—nay displeased then her eye resting on John lost its haughtiness and became humble and sweet
Mr Halifax I know nothing of my cousin and I do know you Will you tell me—candidly as I know you will—whether there is anything in Mr Brithwood which you think unworthy of your acquaintance
He would think me unworthy of his was the low firm answer
Miss March smiled incredulously Because you are not very rich What can that signify It is enough for me that my friends are gentlemen
Mr Brithwood and many others would not allow my claim to that title
Astonished—nay somewhat more than astonished—the young gentlewoman drew back a little I do not quite understand you
Let me explain then and her involuntary gesture seeming to have brought back all honest dignity and manly pride he faced her once more himself It is right Miss March that you should know who and what I am to whom you are giving the honour of your kindness Perhaps you ought to have known before but here at Enderley we seemed to be equals—friends
I have indeed felt it so
Then you will the sooner pardon my not telling you—what you never asked and I was only too ready to forget—that we are not equals—that is society would not regard us as such—and I doubt if even you yourself would wish us to be friends
Why not
Because you are a gentlewoman and I am a tradesman
The news was evidently a shock to her—it could not but be reared as she had been She sat—the eyelashes dropping over her flushed cheeks—perfectly silent
Johns voice grew firmer—prouder—no hesitation now
My calling is as you will soon hear at Norton Bury that of a tanner I am apprentice to Abel Fletcher—Phineass father
Mr Fletcher She looked up at me—a mingled look of kindliness and pain
Ay Phineas is a little less beneath your notice than I am He is rich—he has been well educated I have had to educate myself I came to Norton Bury six years ago—a beggarboy No not quite that—for I never begged I either worked or starved
The earnestness the passion of his tone made Miss March lift her eyes but they fell again
Yes Phineas found me in an alley—starving We stood in the rain opposite the mayors house A little girl—you know her Miss March—came to the door and threw out to me a bit of bread
Now indeed she started You—was that you
It was I
John paused and his whole manner changed into softness as he resumed I never forgot that little girl Many a time when I was inclined to do wrong she kept me right—the remembrance of her sweet face and her kindness
That face was pressed down against the sofa where she sat I think Miss March was all but weeping
John continued
I am glad to have met her again—glad to have been able to do her some small good in return for the infinite good she once did me I shall bid her farewell now—at once and altogether
A quick involuntary turn of the hidden face asked him Why
Because John answered the world says we are not equals and it would neither be for Miss Marchs honour nor mine did I try to force upon it the truth—which I may prove openly one day—that we ARE equals
Miss March looked up at him—it were hard to say with what expression of pleasure or pride or simple astonishment perhaps a mingling of all—then her eyelids fell She silently offered her hand first to me and then to John Whether she meant it as friendliness or as a mere ceremony of adieu I cannot tell John took it as the latter and rose
His hand was on the door—but he could not go
Miss March he said perhaps I may never see you again—at least never as now Let me look once more at that wrist which was hurt
Her left arm was hanging over the sofa—the scar being visible enough John took the hand and held it firmly
Poor little hand—blessed little hand May God bless it evermore
Suddenly he pressed his lips to the place where the wound had been—a kiss long and close such as only a lovers kiss could be Surely she must have felt it—known it
A moment afterward he was gone
That day Miss March departed and we remained at Enderley alone
CHAPTER XVI
It was wintertime All the summerdays at Enderley were gone like a dream when one awaketh Of her who had been the beautiful centre of the dream we had never heard nor spoken since
John and I were walking together along the road towards the Mythe we could just see the frosty sunset reflected on the windows of the Mythe House now closed for months the family being away The meadows alongside where the Avon had overflowed and frozen were a popular skatingground and the road was alive with lookerson of every class All Norton Bury seemed abroad and half Norton Bury exchanged salutations with my companion till I was amused to notice how large Johns acquaintance had grown
Among the rest there overtook us a little elderly lady as prim and neat as an old maid and as brightlooking as a happy matron I saw at once who it was—Mrs Jessop our good doctors new wife and old love whom he had lately brought home to the great amazement and curiosity of Norton Bury
She seems to like you very much I said as after a cordial greeting which John returned rather formally she trotted on
They were both very kind to me in London last month as I think I told you
Ay It was one of the few things he had mentioned about that same London journey for he had grown into a painful habit of silence now Yet I dreaded to break it lest any wounds rankling beneath might thereby be caused to smart once more And our love to one another was too faithful for a little reserve to have power to influence it in any way
We came once more upon the old lady watching the skaters She again spoke to John and looked at me with her keen kind blue eyes
I think I know who your friend is though you do not introduce him John hastily performed that ceremony Tom and I how funny to hear her call our old bachelor doctor Tom were wondering what had become of you Mr Halifax Are you stronger than you were in London
Was he ill in London madam
No indeed Phineas Or only enough to win for me Dr and Mrs Jessops great kindness
Which you have never come to thank us for Never crossed our doorsill since we returned home Does not your conscience sting you for your ingratitude
He coloured deeply
Indeed Mrs Jessop it was not ingratitude
I know it I believe it she answered with much kindness Tell me what it was
He hesitated
You ought to believe the warm interest we both take in you Tell me the plain truth
I will It is that your kindness to me in London was no reason for my intruding on you at Norton Bury It might not be agreeable for you and Dr Jessop to have my acquaintance here I am a tradesman
The little old ladys eyes brightened into something beyond mere kindness as she looked at him
Mr Halifax I thank you for that plain truth Truth is always best Now for mine I had heard you were a tradesman I found out for myself that you were a gentleman I do not think the two facts incompatible nor does my husband We shall be happy to see you at our house at all times and under all circumstances
She offered him her hand John bowed over it in silence but it was long since I had seen him look more pleased
Well then suppose you come this evening both of you
We assented and on her further invitation John and I and the little old lady walked on together
I could not help watching Mrs Jessop with some amusement Norton Bury said she had been a poor governess all her days but that hard life had left no shadow on the cheerful sunset of her existence now It was a frank bright happy face in spite of its wrinkles and its somewhat hard Welsh features And it was pleasant to hear her talk even though she talked a good deal and in a decidedly Welsh accent Sometimes a tone or two reminded me slightly of—Ay it was easy to guess why John evidently liked the old lady
I know this road well Mr Halifax Once I spent a summer here with an old pupil now grown up I am going today to inquire about her at the Mythe House The Brithwoods came home yesterday
I was afraid to look at John Even to me the news was startling How I blessed Mrs Jessops innocent garrulousness
I hope they will remain here some time I have a special interest in their stay Not on Lady Carolines account though She patronizes me very kindly but I doubt if she ever forgets—what Tom says I am rather too proud of remembering—that I was the poor governess Jane Cardigan
Jane Cardigan I exclaimed
What Mr Fletcher you know my name And really now I think of it I believe I have heard yours Not from Tom either It couldnt possibly be—Yes it certainly was—How strange Did you ever hear tell of a Miss Ursula March
The live crimson rushed madly over Johns face Mrs Jessop saw it she could not but see At first she looked astounded then exceedingly grave
I replied that we had had the honour of meeting Miss March last summer at Enderley
Yes the old lady continued somewhat formally Now I recollect Miss March told me of the circumstance of two gentlemen there who were very kind to her when her father died a Mr Fletcher and his friend—was that Mr Halifax
It was I answered for John was speechless Alas I saw at once that all my hopes for him all the design of my long silence on this subject had been in vain No he had not forgotten her It was not in his nature to forget
Mrs Jessop went on still addressing herself to me
I am sure I ought on behalf of my dear pupil to offer you both my warmest thanks Hers was a most trying position She never told me of it till afterwards poor child I am thankful her trouble was softened to her by finding that STRANGERS was it only my fancy that detected a slight stress on the word mere strangers could be at once so thoughtful and so kind
No one could be otherwise to Miss March Is she well Has she recovered from her trial
I hope so Happily few sorrows few feelings of any kind take lasting hold at eighteen She is a noble girl She did her duty and it was no light one to him who is gone now her life begins anew It is sure to be prosperous—I trust it may be very happy—Now I must bid you both goodbye
She stopped at the gates of the Mythe House great iron gates a barrier as proud and impassable as that which in these times the rich shut against the poor the aristocrat against the plebeian John glancing once up at them hurriedly moved on
Stay you will come and see us Mr Halifax Promise
If you wish it
And promise too that under all circumstances you will tell me as you did this morning the plain truth Yes I see you will Goodbye
The iron gates closed upon her and against us We took our silent way up to the Mythe to our favourite stile There we leaned—still in silence for many minutes
The wind is keen Phineas you must be cold
Now I could speak to him—could ask him to tell me of his pain
It is so long since you have told me anything It might do you good
Nothing can do me good Nothing but bearing it My God what have I not borne Five whole months to be dying of thirst and not a drop of water to cool my tongue
He bared his head and throat to the cutting wind—his chest heaved his eyes seemed in a flame
God forgive me—but I sometimes think I would give myself body and soul to the devil for one glimpse of her face one touch of her little hand
I made no answer What answer could be made to such words as these I waited—all I could do—till the paroxysm had gone by Then I hinted—as indeed seemed not unlikely—that he might see her soon
Yes a great way off like that cloud up there But I want her near—close—in my home—at my heart—Phineas he gasped talk to me—about something else—anything Dont let me think or I shall go clean mad
And indeed he looked so I was terrified So quiet as I had always seen him when we met so steadily as he had pursued his daily duties and with all this underneath—this torment conflict despair of a young mans love It must come out—better it should
And you have gone on working all this while
I was obliged Nothing but work kept me in my senses Besides—and he laughed hoarsely—I was safest in the tanyard The thought of her could not come there I was glad of it I tried to be solely and altogether what I am—a prentice lad—a mere clown
Nay that was wrong
Was it Well at last it struck me so I thought I would be a gentleman again—just for a pretence you know—a dream—a bit of the old dream back again So I went to London
And met the Jessops there
Yes though I did not know she was Jane Cardigan But I liked her—I liked my life with them It was like breathing a higher air the same air that—Oh Phineas it was horrible to come back to my life here—to that accursed tanyard
I said nothing
You see now—and that hard laugh smote me to the heart again—you see Phineas how wicked I am growing You will have to cut my acquaintance presently
Tell me the rest—I mean the rest of your life in London I said after a pause Did you ever hear of her
Of course not though I knew she was there I saw it in the Court Circular Fancy a lady whose name was in the Court Circular being inquired after by a tanners lad But I wanted to look at her—any beggar might do that you know—so I watched in streets and parks by theatredoors at night and by churchdoors on Sunday mornings yet I never saw her once Only think not once for five whole months
John how could you tell me you were happy
I dont know Perhaps because of my pride perhaps because—Ah dont look so wretched Why did you let me say all this You are too good for such as I
Of course I took no heed of idle words like these I let him stand there leaning against the stile now and then grasping it with his nervous muscular hands as if he would tear it down then I said quietly
What do you intend to do
Do Nothing What can I do Though sometimes a score of wild plans rush into my mind such as to run away to the Indies like that young Warren Hastings we were talking of come back twenty years hence a nabob and—marry her
Marry her I repeated mournfully
Ay I could That is what maddens me If now she and I were to meet and stand together equal man and woman I could make her love me I feel I could Instead of crawling after her thus I would go boldly in at those very gates—do you think she is there
He trembled actually trembled at the mere thought of her being so near
Oh its hard hard I could despise myself Why cannot I trust my manhood my honest manhood that I was born with go straight to her and tell her that I love her that God meant her for me and me for her—true husband and true wife Phineas mark my words—and wild as his manner was it had a certain force which sounded almost like prophecy—if ever Ursula March marries she will be my wife—MY wife
I could only murmur—Heaven grant it
But we shall never marry neither one nor the other of us we shall go on apart and alone till the next world Perhaps she will come to me then I may have her in my heart there
John looked upward there was in the west a broad red frosty cloud and just beyond it nay all but resting on it the new moon—a little wintry soft new moon A sight that might well have hushed the maddest storm of passion it hushed his He stood still looking up for many minutes then his eyes closed the lashes all wet
Well never speak of this again Phineas Ill not grieve thee any more Ill try and be a better brother to thee for the future Come along
He drew my arm in his and we went home
Passing the tanyard John proposed that we should call for my father My poor father now daily growing more sour and old and daily leaning more and more upon John who never ceased to respect and make every one else respect his master Though still ostensibly a prentice he had now the business almost entirely in his hands It was pleasant to see how my father brightened up at his coming—how readily when he turned homeward he leaned upon Johns strong arm now the support of both him and me Thus we walked through Norton Bury streets where everybody knew us and indeed as it seemed to me this morning nearly everybody greeted us—at least one of us but my father walked along soberly and sternly frowning at almost every salutation John Halifax received
Thee art making far too many friends John I warn thee
Not FRIENDS—only friendly acquaintance was the gentle answer he was well used to turn away daily and hourly Abel Fletchers wrath But it was roused beyond control when Dr Jessops neat little carriage and neatest of little wives stopped at the curbstone and summoned John
I want you and Mr Fletcher to come to us tomorrow instead of this evening Lady Caroline Brithwood wishes to see you
Me
Yes you smiled the old lady you John Halifax the hero of the people who quelled the bread riots and gave evidence thereupon to Mr Pitt in London Nay why didnt you tell me the wonderful story Her Ladyship is full of it She will torment me till she sees you—I know her ways For my sake you MUST come
Waiting no refusal Mrs Jessop drove on
Whats that said my father sharply John where art thee going
I knew this was the first warninggun of a battle which broke out afresh every time John appeared in any livelier garb than his favourite grey or was suspected of any more worldly associates than our quiet selves He always took my fathers attacks patiently—this time peculiarly so He made no answer but passed his hand once or twice over his brow as if he could not see clearly
Abel Fletcher repeated the question
Yes that was Mrs Jessop sir
I know grumbled my father The doctor is a fool in his old age Who did she want thee to meet
She—Oh Lady Caroline you mean
Lady Caroline wishes particularly to see John
Abel Fletcher stopped planted his stick in the ground released his arm from Johns and eyed him from top to toe
Thee—a woman of quality wanting to see THEE Young man thee art a hypocrite
Sir
I knew it I foresaw how thy fine ways would end Going to London—crawling at the heels of grand folk—despising thy honest trade—trying to make thyself appear a gentleman
I hope I am a gentleman
Words could not describe my fathers horrified astonishment Oh lad he cried poor misguided lad—the Lord have mercy upon thee
John smiled—his mind evidently full of other things Abel Fletchers anger grew
And thee wants to hang on to the tail of other gentlemen such as Richard Brithwood forsooth—a foxhunting drinking dicing fool
I was shocked I had not believed him so bad as that—the young squire—Miss Marchs cousin
Or pursued my father waxing hotter and hotter or a lady such as his wife is the Jezebel daughter of an Ahab father—brought up in the impious atrocities of France and the debaucheries of Naples where though she keeps it close here she abode with that vile woman whom they call Lady Hamilton
John started Well he might for even to our quiet town had come all this winter foul newspaper tales about Nelson and Lady Hamilton
Take care he said in much agitation Any taint upon a womans fame harms not her alone but all connected with her For Gods sake sir whether it be true or not do not whisper in Norton Bury that Lady Caroline Brithwood is a friend of Lady Hamilton
Pshaw What is either woman to us
And my father climbed the steps to his own door John following
Nay young gentleman my poor house is hardly good enough for such as thee
John turned cruelly galled but recovered himself
You are unjust to me Abel Fletcher and you yourself will think so soon May I come in
My father made no answer and I brought John in as usual In truth we had both more to think of than Abel Fletchers temporary displeasure This strange chance—what might it imply—to what might it not lead But no if I judged Mrs Jessop aright it neither implied nor would lead to what I saw Johns fancy had at once sprang toward and revelled in madly A lovers fancy—a lovers hope Even I could see what willothewisps they were
But the doctors good wife Ursula Marchs wise governess would never lure a young man with such phantoms as these I felt sure—certain—that if we met the Brithwoods we should meet no one else Certain even when as we sat at our dish of tea there came in two little dainty notes—the first invitations to worldly festivity that had ever tempted our Quaker household and which Jael flung out of her fingers as if they had been coals from Gehenna Notes bidding us to a little supper at Dr Jessops with Mr and Lady Caroline Brithwood of the Mythe House
Give them to your father Phineas And John vainly tried to hide the flash of his eye—the smiles that came and went like summer lightning—Tomorrow—you see it is tomorrow
Poor lad he had forgotten every worldly thing in the hope of that tomorrow
My fathers sharp voice roused him Phineas theelt stay at home Tell the woman I say so
And John father
John may go to ruin if he chooses He is his own master
I have been always And the answer came less in pride than sadness I might have gone to ruin years ago but for the mercy of Heaven and your kindness Do not let us be at warfare now
All thy own fault lad Why cannot thee keep in thy own rank Respect thyself Be an honest tradesman as I have been
And as I trust always to be But that is only my calling not me I—John Halifax—am just the same whether in the tanyard or Dr Jessops drawingroom The one position cannot degrade nor the other elevate me I should not respect myself if I believed otherwise
Eh—my father absolutely dropped his pipe in amazement Then thee thinkest thyself already quite a gentleman
As I told you before sir—I hope I am
Fit to associate with the finest folk in the land
If they desire it and I choose it certainly
Now Abel Fletcher like all honest men liked honesty and something in Johns bold spirit and free bright eye seemed today to strike him more than ordinarily
Lad lad thee art young But it wont last—no it wont last
He knocked the white ashes out of his pipe—it had been curling in brave wreaths to the very ceiling two minutes before—and sat musing
But about tomorrow persisted John after watching him some little time I could go—I could have gone without either your knowledge or permission but I had rather deal openly with you You know I always do You have been the kindest master—the truest friend to me I hope as long as I live rarely to oppose and never to deceive you
His manner—earnest yet most respectful—his candid looks under which lurked an evident anxiety and pain might have mollified a harder man than Abel Fletcher
John why dost thee want to go among those grand folk
Not because they are grand folk I have other reasons—strong reasons
Be honest Tell me thy strong reasons
Here was a strait
Why dost thee blush young man Is it aught thee art ashamed of
Ashamed No
Is it a secret then the telling of which would be to thee or to any else dishonour
Dishonour And the bright eye shot an indignant gleam
Then tell the truth
I will I wish first to find out for myself whether Lady Caroline Brithwood is fitted to have under her charge one who is young—innocent—good
Has she such an one One thee knows
Yes
Man or woman
Woman
My father turned and looked John full in the eyes Stern as that look was I traced in it a strange compassion
Lad I thought so Thee hast found the curse of mans life—woman
To my amazement John replied not a syllable He seemed even as if he had forgotten himself and his own secret—thus for what end I knew not voluntarily betrayed—so absorbed was he in contemplating the old man And truly in all my life I had never seen such a convulsion pass over my fathers face It was like as if some one had touched and revived the torment of a longhidden but nevertobehealed wound Not till years after did I understand the full meaning of Johns gaze or why he was so patient with my father
The torment passed—ended in violent anger
Out with it Who is deluding thee Is it a matter of wedlock or only—
Stop John cried his face all on fire The lady—
It is a lady Now I see why thee would fain be a gentleman
Oh father—how can you
So thee knowest it too—I see it in thy face—Wouldst thee be led away by him a second time But thee shall not Ill put thee under lock and key before thee shalt ruin thyself and disgrace thy father
This was hard to bear but I believe—it was Johns teaching—that one ought to bear anything however hard from a just and worthy parent And it was John himself who now grasped my hand and whispered patience John—who knew what I myself as I have said did not learn for years concerning my fathers former history
Sir you mistake Phineas has nothing whatever to do with this matter He is altogether blameless So am I too if you heard all
Tell me all honour is bold—shame only is silent
I feel no shame—an honest love is no disgrace to any man And my confessing it harms no one She neither knows of it nor returns it
As he said this slowly gravely John moved a step back and sat down His face was in shadow but the fire shone on his hands tightly locked together motionless as stone
My father was deeply moved Heaven knows what ghosts of former days came and knocked at the old mans heart We all three sat silent for a long time then my father said
Who is she
I had rather not tell you She is above me in worldly station
Ah a fierce exclamation But thee wouldst not humble thyself—ruin thy peace for life Thee wouldst not marry her
I would—if she had loved me Even yet if by any honourable means I can rise to her level so as to be able to win her love marry her I will
That brave I will—it seemed to carry its own fulfilment Its indomitable resolution struck my father with wonder—nay with a sort of awe
Do as thee thinks best and God help thee he said kindly Mayst thee never find thy desire a curse Fear not lad—I will keep thy counsel
I knew you would
The subject ceased my fathers manner indicated that he wished it to cease He relit his pipe and puffed away silently and sadly
Years afterwards when all that remained of Abel Fletcher was a green mound beside that other mound in the Friends buryingground in St Marys Lane I learnt—what all Norton Bury except myself had long known—that my poor mother the young thoughtless creature whose married life had been so unhappy and so brief was by birth a gentlewoman
CHAPTER XVII
Mrs Jessops drawingroom ruddy with firelight glittering with delicate wax candlelight a few women in palecoloured gauzy dresses a few men sublime in blue coats gold buttons yellow waistcoats and smiles—this was all I noticed of the scene which was quite a novel scene to me
The doctors wife had introduced us formally to all her guests as the custom then was especially in these small cosy supperparties How they greeted us I do not now remember no doubt with a kind of wellbred formal surprise but society was generally formal then My chief recollection is of Mrs Jessops saying pointedly and aloud though with a smile playing under the corners of her good little mouth
Mr Halifax it is kind of you to come Lady Caroline Brithwood will be delighted She longs to make your acquaintance
After that everybody began to talk with extraordinary civility to Mr Halifax
For John he soon took his place among them with that modest selfpossession which best becomes youth Societys dangerous waters accordingly became smooth to him as to a good swimmer who knows his own strength trusts it and struggles not
Mr Brithwood and Lady Caroline will be late I overheard the hostess say I think I told you that Miss March—
But here the door was flung open and the missing guests announced John and I were in the alcove of the window I heard his breathing behind me but I dared not look at or speak to him In truth I was scarcely calmer than he For though it must be clearly understood I never was in love with any woman still the reflected glamour of those Enderley days had fallen on me It often seems now as if I too had passed the golden gate and looked far enough into youths Eden to be able ever after to weep with those that wept without the doors
No—she was not there
We both sat down I know not if I was thankful or sorry
I had seldom seen the squire or Lady Caroline He was a portly young man pinched in by tight lightcoloured garments She was a lady rather past her first youth but very handsome still who floated about leaving a general impression of pseudoGreek draperies gleaming arms and shoulders sparkling jewellery and equally sparkling smiles These smiles seemed to fall just as redundantly upon the family physician whom by a rare favour—for so I suppose it must have been—she was honouring with a visit as if worthy Dr Jessop were the noblest in the land He poor man was all bows and scrapes and pretty speeches in the which came more than the usual amount of references to the time which had made his fortune the day when Her Majesty Queen Charlotte had done him the honour to be graciously taken ill in passing through Norton Bury Mrs Jessop seemed to wear her honours as hostess to an earls daughter very calmly indeed She performed the ordinary courtesies and then went over to talk with Mr Brithwood In their conversation I sought in vain the name of Ursula
So it ended—the sickening expectation which I had read in the lads face all day He would not see her—perhaps it was best Yet my heart bled when I looked at him But such thoughts could not be indulged in now especially as Mrs Jessops quick eyes seemed often upon him or me with an expression that I could not make out at all save that in such a good woman whom Miss March so well loved could lurk nothing evil or unkindly
So I tried to turn my attention to the Brithwoods One could not choose but look at her this handsome Lady Caroline whom half Norton Bury adored the other half pursed up their lips at the mention of—but these were of the number she declined to know All that she did know—all that came within her influence were irresistibly attracted for to please seemed a part of her nature Tonight nearly every one present stole gradually into the circle round her men and women alike charmed by the fascination of her ripe beauty her lively manner her exquisite smile and laugh
I wondered what John thought of Lady Caroline Brithwood She could not easily see him even though her acute glance seemed to take in everything and everybody in the room But on her entrance John had drawn back a little and our halfdozen of fellowguests who had been conversing with him crept shyly out of his way as if now the visible reality appeared they were aghast at the great gulf that lay between John Halifax the tanner and the Brithwoods of the Mythe A few even looked askance at our hostess as though some terrible judgment must fall upon poor ignorant Mrs Jessop who had dared to amalgamate such opposite ranks
So it came to pass that while everybody gathered round the Brithwoods John and I stood alone and half concealed by the window
Very soon I heard Lady Carolines loud whisper
Mrs Jessop my good friend one moment Where is your jeune heros lhomme du peuple I do not see him Does he wear clouted shoes and woollen stockings Has he a broad face and turnedup nose like your paysans Anglais
Judge for yourself my lady—he stands at your elbow Mr Halifax let me present you to Lady Caroline Brithwood
If Lord Luxmores fair daughter ever looked confounded in her life she certainly did at this minute
Lui Mon dieu Lui And her shrug of amazement was stopped her halfextended hand drawn back No it was quite impossible to patronise John Halifax
He bowed gravely she made a gracious curtsey they met on equal terms a lady and gentleman
Soon her lively manner returned She buckled on her spurs for a new conquest and left the already vanquished gentilities of Norton Bury to amuse themselves as they best might
I am enchanted to meet you Mr Halifax I adore le peuple Especially—with a sly glance at her husband who with Tory Dr Jessop was vehemently exalting Mr Pitt and abusing the First Consul Bonaparte—especially le peuple Francais Me comprenez vous
Madame je vous comprends
Her ladyship looked surprised French was not very common among the honest trading class or indeed any but the higher classes in England
But John continued I must dissent from Lady Caroline Brithwood if she mingles the English people with le peuple Francais They are a very different class of beings
Ah ca ira ca ira—she laughed humming beneath her breath a few notes out of that terrible song But you know French—let us talk in that language we shall horrify no one then
I cannot speak it readily I am chiefly selftaught
The best teaching Mon dieu Truly you are made to be un hero—just the last touch of grace that a womans hand gives—had you ever a woman for your friend—and you would be complete But I cannot flatter—plain blunt honesty for me You must—you shall be—lhomme du peuple Were you born such—Who were your parents
I saw John hesitate I knew how rarely he ever uttered those names written in the old Bible—how infinitely sacred they were to him Could he blazon them out now to gratify this womans idle curiosity
Madam he said gravely I was introduced to you simply as John Halifax It seems to me that so long as I do no discredit to it the name suffices to the world
Ah—I see I see But he with his downcast eyes did not detect the meaning smile that just flashed in hers was changed into a tone of soft sympathy You are right rank is nothing—a cold glittering marble with no soul under Give me the rich fleshandblood life of the people Liberte—fraternite—egalite I would rather be a gamin in Paris streets than my brother William at Luxmore Hall
Thus talked she sometimes in French sometimes in English the young man answering little She only threw her shining arts abroad the more she seemed determined to please And Nature fitted her for it Even if not born an earls daughter Lady Caroline would have been everywhere the magic centre of any society wherein she chose to move Not that her conversation was brilliant or deep but she said the most frivolous things in a way that made them appear witty and the grand art to charm by appearing charmed was hers in perfection She seemed to float altogether upon and among the pleasantnesses of life pain either endured or inflicted was to her an impossibility
Thus her character struck me on this first meeting and thus after many years it strikes me still I look back upon what she appeared that evening—lovely gay attractive—in the zenith of her rich maturity What her old age was the world knows or thinks it knows But Heaven may be more merciful—I cannot tell Whatever is now said of her I can only say Poor Lady Caroline
It must have indicated a grain of pure gold at the bottom of the goldseeming dross that from the first moment she saw him she liked John Halifax
They talked a long time She drew him out as a wellbred woman always can draw out a young man of sense He looked pleased he conversed well Had he forgotten No the restless wandering of his eyes at the slightest sound in the room told how impossible it was he should forget Yet he comported himself bravely and I was proud that Ursulas kindred should see him as he was
Lady Caroline her ladyship turned with a slightly bored expression to her intrusive hostess I fear we must give up all expectation of our young friend tonight
I told you so Posttravelling is very uncertain and the Bath roads are not good Have you ever visited Bath Mr Halifax
But she is surely long on the road pursued Mrs Jessop rather anxiously What attendants had she
Her own maid and our man Laplace Nay dont be alarmed excellent and faithful gouvernante I assure you your fair expupil is quite safe The furore about her has considerably abated since the heiresshunters at Bath discovered the melancholy fact that Miss March—
Pardon me interrupted the other we are among strangers I assure you I am quite satisfied about my dear child
What a charming thing is affectionate fidelity observed her ladyship turning once more to John with a sweet lazy dropping of the eyelids
The young man only bowed They resumed their conversation—at least she did talking volubly satisfied with monosyllabic answers
It was now almost suppertime—held a glorious hour at Norton Bury parties People began to look anxiously to the door
Before we adjourn said Lady Caroline I must do what it will be difficult to accomplish after supper and for the first time a sharp sarcastic tone jarred in her smooth voice I must introduce you especially to my husband Mr Brithwood
Madam He lounged up to her They were a diverse pair She in her wellpreserved beauty and Gallic artificial grace—he in his coarse bloated youth coarser and worse than the sensualism of middle age
Mr Brithwood let me introduce you to a new friend of mine
The squire bowed rather awkwardly proving the truth of what Norton Bury often whispered that Richard Brithwood was more at home with grooms than gentlemen
He belongs to this your town—you must have heard of him perhaps met him
I have more than had the pleasure of meeting Mr Brithwood but he has doubtless forgotten it
By Jove I have What might your name be sir
John Halifax
What Halifax the tanner
The same
Phew—He began a low whistle and turned on his heel
John changed colour a little Lady Caroline laughed—a thoughtless amused laugh with a pleasant murmur of Bete—Anglais— Nevertheless she whispered to her husband—
Mon ami—you forget I have introduced you to this gentleman
Gentleman indeed Pooh rubbish Lady Caroline—Im busy talking
And so are we most pleasantly I only called you as a matter of form to ratify my invitation Mr Halifax will I hope dine with us next Sunday
The devil he will
Richard—you hurt me—with a little scream as she pushed his rough fingers from her arm so soft and round and fair
Madam you must be crazy The young man is a tradesman—a tanner Not fit for MY society
Precisely I invite him for my own
But the whispers and responses were alike unheeded by their object For at the doorway entering with Mrs Jessop was a tall girl in deep mourning We knew her—we both knew her—our dream at Enderley—our Nutbrowne Mayde
John was near to the door—their eyes met She bowed—he returned it He was very pale For Miss March her face and neck were all in a glow Neither spoke nor offered more than this passing acknowledgment and she moved on
She came and sat down beside me accidentally I believe but when she saw me she held out her hand We exchanged a word or two—her manner was unaltered but she spoke hurriedly and her fingers had their old nervous twitch She said this meeting was to her unexpected but she was very glad to see me
So she sat and I looked sideways at her dropped eyes—her forehead with its coronet of chestnut curls How would he bear the sight—he of whose heart mine was the mere faint echo Yet truly an echo repeating with cruel faithfulness every throb
He kept his position a little aloof from the Brithwoods who were holding a slight altercation—though more of looks than words John heeded them not I was sure though he had never looked directly towards us that he had heard every syllable Miss March said to me
The squire called across the room in a patronising tone My good fellow—that is ahem I say young Halifax
Were you addressing me Mr Brithwood
I was I want a quiet word or two—between ourselves
Certainly
They stood face to face The one seemed uncomfortable the other was his natural self—a little graver perhaps as if he felt what was coming and prepared to meet it knowing in whose presence he had to prove himself—what Richard Brithwood with all his broad acres could never be—a gentleman
Few could doubt that fact who looked at the two young men as all were looking now
On my soul its awkward—Ill call at the tanyard and explain
I had rather you would explain here
Well then though its a confounded unpleasant thing to say—and I really wish I had not been brought into such a position—youll not heed my wifes nonsense
I do not understand you
Come its no use running to cover in that way Lets be open and plain I mean no offence You may be a very respectable young man for aught I know still rank is rank Of course Doctor Jessop asks whom he likes to his house—and by George Im always civil to everybody—but really in spite of my ladys likings I cant well invite you to my table
Nor could I humiliate myself by accepting any such invitation
He said the words distinctly so that the whole circle might have heard and was turning away when Mr Brithwood fired up—as an angry man does in a losing game
Humiliate yourself What do you mean sir Wouldnt you be only too thankful to crawl into the houses of your betters any how by hook or by crook Ha ha I know you would Its always the way with you common folk you rioters you revolutionists By the Lord I wish you were all hanged
The young blood rose fiercely in Johns cheek but he restrained himself Sir I am neither a rioter nor a revolutionist
But you are a tradesman You used to drive Fletchers cart of skins
I did
And are you not—I remember you now—the very lad the tanners lad that once pulled us ashore from the eger—Cousin March and me
I heard a quick exclamation beside me and saw Ursula listening intently—I had not noticed how intently till now Her eyes were fixed on John waiting for his answer It came
Your memory is correct I was that lad
Thankee for it too Lord what a jolly life I should have missed You got no reward though You threw away the guinea I offered you come Ill make it twenty guineas tomorrow
The insult was too much Sir you forget that whatever we may have been tonight we meet as equals
Equals
As guests in the same house—most certainly for the time being equals
Richard Brithwood stared literally dumb with fury The standersby were dumb too though such fracas were then not uncommon even in drawingrooms and in womens presence especially with men of Mr Brithwoods stamp His wife seemed quite used to it She merely shrugged her shoulders and hummed a note or two of Ca ira It irritated the husband beyond all bounds
Hold your tongue my lady What because a prenticelad once saved my life and you choose to patronise him as you do many another vagabond with your cursed liberty and equality am I to have him at my table and treat him as a gentleman By —— madam never
He spoke savagely and loud John was silent he had locked his hands together convulsively but it was easy to see that his blood was at boiling heat and that did he once slip the leash of his passions it would go hard with Richard Brithwood
The latter came up to him with clenched fist Now mark me you—you vagabond
Ursula March crossed the room and caught his arm her eyes gleaming fire
Cousin in my presence this gentleman shall be treated as a gentleman He was kind to my father
Curse your father
Johns right hand burst free he clutched the savage by the shoulder
Be silent You had better
Brithwood shook off the grasp turned and struck him that last fatal insult which offered from man to man in those days could only be wiped out with blood
John staggered For a moment he seemed as if he would have sprung on his adversary and felled him to the ground—but—he did it not
Some one whispered—He wont fight He is a Quaker
No he said and stood erect though he was ghastly pale and his voice sounded hoarse and strange—But I am a Christian I shall not return blow for blow
It was a new doctrine foreign to the practice if familiar to the ear of Christian Norton Bury No one answered him all stared at him one or two sheered off from him with contemptuous smiles Then Ursula March stretched out her friendly hand John took it and grew calm in a moment
There arose a murmur of Mr Brithwood is going
Let him go Miss March cried anger still glowing in her eyes
Not so—it is not right I will speak to him May I John softly unclosed her detaining hand and went up to Mr Brithwood Sir there is no need for you to leave this house—I am leaving it You and I shall not meet again if I can help it
His proud courtesy his absolute dignity and calmness completely overwhelmed his blustering adversary who gazed openmouthed while John made his adieu to his host and to those he knew The women gathered round him—womans instinct is usually true Even Lady Caroline amid a flutter of regrets declared she did not believe there was a man in the universe who would have borne so charmingly such a degradation
At the word Miss March fired up Madam she said in her impetuous young voice no insult offered to a man can ever degrade him the only real degradation is when he degrades himself
John passing out at the doorway caught her words As he quitted the room no crowned victor ever wore a look more joyful more proud
After a minute we followed him the Doctors wife and I But now the pride and joy had both faded
Mrs Jessop you see I am right he murmured I ought not to have come here It is a hard world for such as I I shall never conquer it—never
Yes—you will And Ursula stood by him with crimsoned cheek and eyes no longer flashing but fearless still
Mrs Jessop put her arm round the young girl I also think you need not dread the world Mr Halifax if you always act as you did tonight though I grieve that things should have happened thus if only for the sake of this my child
Have I done any harm oh tell me have I done any harm
No cried Ursula with the old impetuosity kindling anew in every feature of her noble face You have but showed me what I shall remember all my life—that a Christian only can be a true gentleman
She understood him—he felt she did understood him as if a man be understood by one woman in the world he—and she too—is strong safe and happy They grasped hands once more and gazed unhesitatingly into each others eyes All human passion for the time being set aside these two recognized each in the other one aim one purpose one faith something higher than love something better than happiness It must have been a blessed moment for both
Mrs Jessop did not interfere She had herself known what true love was if as gossips said she had kept constant to our worthy doctor for thirty years But still she was a prudent woman not unused to the world
You must go now she said laying her hand gently on Johns arm
I am going But she—what will she do
Never mind me Jane will take care of me said Ursula winding her arms round her old governess and leaning her cheek down on Mrs Jessops shoulder
We had never seen Miss March show fondness that is caressing fondness to any one before It revealed her in a new light betraying the depths there were in her nature infinite depths of softness and of love
John watched her for a minute a long wild greedy minute then whispered hoarsely to me I must go
We made a hasty adieu and went out together into the night—the cold bleak night all blast and storm
CHAPTER XVIII
For weeks after then we went on in our usual way Ursula March living within a stones throw of us She had left her cousins and come to reside with Dr Jessop and his wife
It was a very hard trial for John
Neither of us were again invited by Mrs Jessop We could not blame her she held a precious charge and Norton Bury was a horrible place for gossip Already tale after tale had gone abroad about Miss Marchs ingratitude to her relations Already tongue after tongue had repeated in every possible form of lying the anecdote of young Halifax and the squire Had it been young Halifax and Miss March I truly believe John could not have borne it
As it was though he saw her constantly it was always by chance—a momentary glimpse at the window or a passing acknowledgment in the street I knew quite well when he had thus met her whether he mentioned it or not—knew by the wild troubled look which did not wear off for hours
I watched him closely day by day in an agony of doubt and pain
For though he said nothing a great change was creeping over the lad as I still fondly called him His strength the glory of a young man was going from him—he was becoming thin weak restlesseyed That healthy energy and gentle composure which had been so beautiful in him all his life through were utterly lost
What am I to do with thee David said I to him one evening when he had come in looking worse than usual—I knew why for Ursula and her friend had just passed our house taking their pleasant walk in the spring twilight Thou art very ill I fear
Not at all There is not the least thing the matter with me Do let me alone
Two minutes afterwards he begged my pardon for those sharpspoken words It was not THEE that spoke John I said
No you are right it was not I It was a sort of devil that lodges here he touched his breast The chamber he lives in is at times a burning hell
He spoke in a low tone of great anguish What could I answer Nothing
We stood at the window looking idly out The chestnut trees in the Abbeyyard were budding green there came that faint sweet sound of children at play which one hears as the days begin to lengthen
Its a lovely evening he said
John I looked him in the face He could not palm off that kind deceit upon me You have heard something about her
I have he groaned She is leaving Norton Bury
Thank God I muttered
John turned fiercely upon me—but only for a moment Perhaps I too ought to say Thank God This could not have lasted long or it would have made me—what I pray His mercy to save me from or to let me die Oh lad if I could only die
He bent down over the windowsill crushing his forehead on his hands
John I said in this depth of despair snatching at an equally desperate hope what if instead of keeping this silence you were to go to her and tell her all
I have thought of that a noble thought worthy of a poor prentice lad Why two several evenings I have been insane enough to walk to Dr Jessops door which I have never entered and—mark you well they have never asked me to enter since that night But each time ere I knocked my senses came back and I went home—luckily having made myself neither a fool nor a knave
There was no answer to this either Alas I knew as well as he did that in the eye of the worlds common sense for a young man not twentyone a tradesmans apprentice to ask the hand of a young gentlewoman uncertain if she loved him was most utter folly Also for a penniless youth to sue a lady with a fortune even though it was the Brithwoods took care to publish the fact smaller than was at first supposed—would in the eye of the worlds honour be not very much unlike knavery There was no help—none
David I groaned I would you had never seen her
Hush—not a word like that If you heard all I hear of her—daily—hourly—her unselfishness her energy her generous warm heart It is blessedness even to have known her She is an angel—no better than that a woman I did not want her for a saint in a shrine—I wanted her as a helpmeet to walk with me in my daily life to comfort me strengthen me make me pure and good I could be a good man if I had her for my wife Now—
He rose and walked rapidly up and down His looks were becoming altogether wild
Come Phineas suppose we go to meet her up the road—as I meet her almost every day Sometimes she merely bends and smiles sometimes she holds out her little hand and hopes I am quite well And then they pass on and I stand gaping and staring after them like an idiot There—look—there they are now
Ay walking leisurely along the other side of the road—talking and smiling to one another in their own merry familiar way were Mrs Jessop and Miss March
They were not thinking of us not the least Only just ere they passed our house Ursula turned slightly round and looked behind a quiet maidenly look with the smile still lingering on her mouth She saw nothing and no one for John had pulled me from the window and placed himself out of sight So turning back again she went on her way They both disappeared
Now Phineas it is all ended
What do you mean
I have looked on her for the last time
Nay—she is not going yet
But I am—fleeing from the devil and his angels Hurrah Phineas lad Well have a merry night Tomorrow I am away to Bristol to set sail for America
He wrung my hands with a long loud halfmad laugh and then dropped heavily on a chair
A few hours after he was lying on my bed struck down by the first real sickness he had ever known It was apparently a low agueish fever which had been much about Norton Bury since the famine of last year At least so Jael said and she was a wise doctoress and had cured many He would have no one else to attend him—seemed terrified at the mere mention of Dr Jessop I opposed him not at first for well I knew whatever the proximate cause of his sickness might be its root was in that mental pang which no doctors could cure So I trusted to the blessed quiet of a sickroom—often so healing to misery—to Jaels nursing and his brothers love
After a few days we called in a physician—a stranger from Coltham—who pronounced it to be this Norton Bury fever caught through living as he still persisted in doing in his old attic in that unhealthy alley where was Sally Watkinss house It must have been coming on the doctor said for a long time but it had no doubt now reached its crisis He would be better soon
But he did not get better Days slid into weeks and still he lay there never complaining scarcely appearing to suffer except from the wasting of the fever yet when I spoke of recovery he turned his face unto the wall—weary of living
Once when he had lain thus a whole morning hardly speaking a word I began to feel growing palpable the truth which day by day I had thrust behind me as some intangible impossible dread—that ere now people had died of mere soulsickness without any bodily disease I took up his poor hand that lay on the counterpane—once at Enderley he had regretted its somewhat coarse strength now Ursulas own was not thinner or whiter He drew it back
Oh Phineas lad dont touch me—only let me rest
The weak querulous voice—that awful longing for rest What if despite all the physicians assurances he might be sinking sinking—my friend my hope my pride all my comfort in this life—passing from it and from me into another where let me call never so wildly he could not answer me any more nor come back to me any more
Oh God of mercy if I were to be left in this world without my brother
I had many a time thought over the leaving him going quietly away when it should please the Giver of all breath to recall mine falling asleep encompassed and sustained by his love until the last then a burden no longer leaving him to work out a glorious life whose rich web should include and bring to beautiful perfection all the poor broken threads in mine But now if this should be all vain if he should go from me not I from him—I slid down to the ground to my knees and the dumb cry of my agony went up on high
How could I save him
There seemed but one way I sprung at it stayed not to think if it were right or wrong honourable or dishonourable His life hung in the balance and there was but one way besides had I not cried unto God for help
I put aside the blind and looked out of doors For weeks I had not crossed the threshold I almost started to find that it was spring Everything looked lovely in the coloured twilight a blackbird was singing loudly in the Abbey trees across the way all things were fresh and glowing laden with the hope of the advancing year And there he lay on his sickbed dying
All he said as I drew the curtain back was a faint moan—No light I cant bear the light Do let me rest
In halfanhour without saying a word to human being I was on my way to Ursula March
She sat knitting in the summerparlour alone The doctor was out Mrs Jessop I saw down the long garden bonnetted and shawled busy among her gooseberrybushes—so we were safe
As I have said Ursula sat knitting but her eyes had a soft dreaminess My entrance had evidently startled her and driven some sweet shy thought away
But she met me cordially—said she was glad to see me—that she had not seen either of us lately and the knitting pins began to move quickly again
Those dainty fingers—that soft tremulous smile—I could have hated her
No wonder you did not see us Miss March John has been very ill is ill now—almost dying
I hurled the words at her sharp as javelins and watched to see them strike
They struck—they wounded I could see her shiver
Ill—and no one ever told me
You How could it affect you To me now—and my savage words for they were savage broke down in a burst of misery—nothing in this world to me is worth a straw in comparison with John If he dies—
I let loose the flood of my misery I dashed it over her that she might see it—feel it that it might enter all the fair and sightly chambers of her happy life and make them desolate as mine For was she not the cause
Forgive me I was cruel to thee Ursula and thou wert so good—so kind
She rose came to me and took my hand Hers was very cold and her voice trembled much
Be comforted He is young and God is very merciful
She could say no more but sat down nervously twisting and untwisting her fingers There was in her looks a wild sorrow—a longing to escape from notice but mine held her fast mercilessly as a snake holds a little bird She sat cowering almost like a bird a poor brokenwinged helpless little bird—whom the storm has overtaken
Rising she made an attempt to quit the room
I will call Mrs Jessop she may be of use—
She cannot Stay
Further advice perhaps Doctor Jessop—you must want help—
None save that which will never come His bodily sickness is conquered—it is his mind Oh Miss March and I looked up at her like a wretch begging for life—Do YOU not know of what my brother is dying
Dying A long shudder passed over her from head to foot—but I relented not
Think—a life like his that might be made a blessing to all he loves—to all the world—is it to be sacrificed thus It may be—I do not say it will—but it may be While in health he could fight against this—this which I must not speak of but now his health is gone He cannot rally Without some change I see clearly even I who love him better than any one can love him—
She stirred a little here
Far better I repeated for while John does NOT love me best he to me is more than any one else in the world Yet even I have given up hope unless—But I have no right to say more
There was no need She began to understand A deep soft red sunrise colour dawned all over her face and neck nay tinged her very arms—her delicate bare arms She looked at me once—just once—with a mute but keen inquiry
It is the truth Miss March—ay ever since last year You will respect it You will you shall respect it
She bent her head in acquiescence—that was all She had not uttered a single syllable Her silence almost drove me wild
What not one word not one ordinary message from a friend to a friend—one who is lying ill too
Still silence
Better so I cried made desperate at last Better if it must be that he should die and go to the God who made him—ay made him as you shall yet see too noble a man to die for any womans love
I left her—left her where she sat and went my way
Of the hours that followed the less I say the better My mind was in a tumult of pain in which right and wrong were strangely confused I could not decide—I can scarcely decide now—whether what I had done ought to have been done I only know that I did it—did it under an impulse so sudden and impetuous that it seemed to me like the guidance of Providence All I could do afterwards was to trust the result where we say we trust all things and yet are for ever disquieting ourselves in vain—we of little faith
I have said and I say again that I believe every true marriage—of which there is probably one in every five thousand of conjugal unions—is brought about by heaven and heaven only and that all human influence is powerless either to make or to mar that happy end Therefore to heaven I left this marriage if such it was destined to be And so after a season I calmed myself enough to dare entering that quiet sickchamber where no one ever entered but Jael and me
The old woman met me at the door
Come in gently Phineas I do think there is a change
A change—that awful word I staggered rather than walked to Johns bedside
Ay there was a change but not THAT one—which made my blood run cold in my veins even to think of Thank God for evermore for His great mercies—not THAT change
John was sitting up in bed New life shone in his eyes in his whole aspect Life and—no not hope but something far better diviner
Phineas how tired you look it is time you were in bed
The old way of speaking—the old natural voice as I had not heard it for weeks I flung myself by the bedside—perhaps I wept outright—God knows It is thought a shame for a man to weep yet One Man wept and that too was over His friend—His brother
You must not grieve over me any more dear lad tomorrow please God I mean to be quite well again
Amidst all my joy I marvelled over what could be the cause of so miraculous a change
You would smile if I told you—only a dream
No I did not smile for I believed in the Ruler of all our spirits sleeping or waking
A dream so curious that I have scarcely lost the impression of it yet Do you know Phineas she has been sitting by me just where you sit now
She
Ursula
If I could express the tone in which he uttered the word which had never fallen from his lips before—it was always either Miss March or the impersonal form used by all lovers to disguise the beloved name—URSULA spoken as no man speaks any womans name save the one which is the music of his heart which he foresees shall be the one fireside tune of his life ever familiar yet ever sweet
Yes she sat there talking She told me she knew I loved her—loved her so much that I was dying for her that it was very wrong that I must rise up and do my work in the world—do it for heavens sake not for hers that a true man should live and live nobly for the woman he loves—it is only a coward who dies for her
I listened wonderstruck—for these were the very words that Ursula March might have uttered the very spirit that seemed to shine in her eyes that night—the last night she and John spoke to one another I asked him if there was any more of the dream
Nothing clear I thought we were on the Flat at Enderley and I was following her whether I reached her or not I cannot tell And whether I ever shall reach her I cannot tell But this I know Phineas I will do as she bade me I will arise and walk
And so he did He slept quietly as an infant all that night Next morning I found him up and dressed Looking like a spectre indeed but with health courage and hope in his eyes Even my father noticed it when at dinnertime with Jaels help—poor old Jael how proud she was—John crawled downstairs
Why thee art picking up lad Theelt be a man again in no time
I hope so And a better man than ever I was before
Thee might be better and thee might be worse Anyhow we couldnt do without thee John Hey Phineas whos been meddling with my spectacles
The old man turned his back upon us and busily read his newspaper upside down
We never had a happier meal in our house than that dinner
In the afternoon my father stayed at home—a rare thing for him to do nay more he went and smoked his peaceful pipe in the garden John lay on an extempore sofa made of three of our highbacked chairs and the windowsill I read to him—trying to keep his attention and mine too solely to the Great Plague of London and Daniel Defoe When just as I was stealthily glancing at his face fancying it looked whiter and more sunken that his smile was fading and his thoughts were wandering—Jael burst in
John Halifax there be a woman asking for thee
No John—no need for that start—that rush of impetuous blood to thy poor thin cheek as if there were but one woman in all the world No it was only Mrs Jessop
At sight of him standing up tall and gaunt and pale the good ladys eyes brimmed over
You have been very ill my poor boy Forgive me—but I am an old woman you know Lie down again
With gentle force she compelled him and sat down by his side
I had no idea—why did you not let us know—the doctor and me How long have you been ill
I am quite well now—I am indeed I shall be about again tomorrow shall I not Phineas and he looked eagerly to me for confirmation
I gave it firmly and proudly I was glad she should know it—glad she should see that the priceless jewel of his heart would not lie tossing in the mire because a haughty girl scorned to wear it Glad that she might one day find out there lived not the woman of whom John Halifax was not worthy
But you must be very careful—very careful of yourself indeed
He will Mrs Jessop Or if not he has many to take care of him Many to whom his life is most precious and most dear
I spoke—perhaps more abruptly than I ought to have spoken to that good old lady—but her gentle answer seemed at once to understand and forgive me
I well believe that Mr Fletcher And I think Mr Halifax hardly knows how much we—we all—esteem him And with a kind motherly gesture she took Johns hand You must make haste and get well now My husband will come and see you tomorrow For Ursula— here she carefully busied herself in the depths of her pocket—my dear child sends you this
It was a little note—unsealed The superscription was simply his name in her clear round fair handwriting—John Halifax
His fingers closed over it convulsively I—she is—very kind The words died away—the hand which grasped ay for more than a minute the unopened letter trembled like an aspen leaf
Yes hers is a grateful nature observed Mrs Jessop sedulously looking at and speaking to me I would not wish it otherwise—I would not wish her to forget those whose worth she proved in her season of trouble
I was silent The old ladys tongue likewise failed her She took off her glove wiped a finger across each eyelash and sat still
Have you read your little note Mr Halifax
No answer
I will take your message back She told me what she had said to you
Ay all the world might have read those simple lines
MY DEAR FRIEND
I did not know till yesterday that you had been ill I have not forgotten how kind you were to my poor father I should like to come and see you if you would allow me
Yours sincerely
URSULA MARCH
This was all the note I saw it more than thirty years afterwards yellow and faded in the corner of his pocketbook
Well what shall I say to my child
Say—he half rose struggling to speak—ask her to come
He turned his head towards the window and the sunshine glittered on two great drops large as a childs tear
Mrs Jessop went away And now for a long hour we waited—scarcely moving John lay his eyes sometimes closed sometimes fixed dreamily on the bit of blue sky that shone out above the iron railings between the Abbey trees More than once they wandered to the little letter which lay buried in his hands He felt it there—that was enough
My father came in from the garden and settled to his afternoon doze but I think John hardly noticed him—nor I My poor old father Yet we were all young once—let youth enjoy its day
At length Ursula came She stood at the parlour door rosy with walking—a vision of youth and candid innocence which blushed not nor had need to blush at any intent or act that was sanctified by the law of God and by her own heart
John rose to meet her They did not speak but only clasped hands
He was not strong enough for disguises now—in his first look she might have seen have felt that I had told her the truth For hers—but it dropped down down as Ursula Marchs clear glance had never dropped before Then I knew how all would end
Jaels voice broke in sharply Abel Fletcher the doctors wife is wanting thee down in the kitchengarden and she says her green gooseberries beant half as big as ourn
My father awoke—rubbed his eyes—became aware of a ladys presence—rubbed them again and sat staring
John led Ursula to the old mans chair
Mr Fletcher this is Miss March a friend of mine who hearing I was ill out of her great kindness—
His voice faltered Miss March added in a low tone with downcast eyelids
I am an orphan and he was kind to my dear father
Abel Fletcher nodded—adjusted his spectacles—eyed her all over—and nodded again slowly gravely with a satisfied inspection His hard gaze lingered and softened while it lingered on that young face whereon was written simplicity dignity truth
If thee be a friend of Johns welcome to my house Wilt thee sit down
Offering his hand with a mixture of kindness and ceremonious grace that I had never before seen in my Quaker father he placed her in his own armchair How well I remember her sitting there in her black silk pelisse trimmed with the white fur she was so fond of wearing and her ridinghat the soft feathers of which drooped on her shoulder trembling as she trembled For she did tremble very much
Gradually the old mans perception opened to the facts before him He ceased his sharp scrutiny and half smiled
Wilt thee stay and have a dish of tea with us
So it came to pass I hardly remember how that in an hours space our parlour beheld the strangest sight it had beheld since—Ah no wonder that when she took her place at the tables foot and gave him his dish of tea with her own hand—her pretty ringed ladys hand—my old father started as if it had been another than Miss March who was sitting there No wonder that more than once catching the sound of her low quiet gentlewomanlike speech different from any female voices here he turned round suddenly with a glance halfscared halfeager as if she had been a ghost from the grave
But Mrs Jessop engaged him in talk and womanhater as he was he could not resist the pleasantness of the doctors little wife The doctor too came in after tea and the old folk all settled themselves for a cosy chat taking very little notice of us three
Miss March sat at a little table near the window admiring some hyacinths that Mrs Jessop had brought us A wise present for all Norton Bury knew that if Abel Fletcher had a soft place in his heart it was for his garden and his flowers These were very lovely in colour and scent delicious to one who had been long ill John lay looking at them and at her as if oblivious of past and future his whole life were absorbed into that one exquisite hour
For me—where I sat I do not clearly know nor probably did any one else
There said Miss March to herself in a tone of almost childish satisfaction as she arranged the last hyacinth to her liking
They are very beautiful I heard Johns voice answer with a strange trembling in it It is growing too dark to judge of colours but the scent is delicious even here
I could move the table closer to you
Thank you—let me do it—will you sit down
She did so after a very slight hesitation by Johns side Neither spoke—but sat quietly there with the sunset light on their two heads softly touching them both and then as softly melting away
There is a new moon tonight Miss March remarked appositely and gravely
Is there Then I have been ill a whole month For I remember noticing it through the trees the night when—
He did not say what night and she did not ask To such a very unimportant conversation as they were apparently holding my involuntary listening could do no harm
You will be able to walk out soon I hope said Miss March again Norton Bury is a pretty town
John asked suddenly—Are you going to leave it
Not yet—I do not know for certain—perhaps not at all I mean she added hurriedly that being independent and having entirely separated from and been given up by my cousins I prefer residing with Mrs Jessop altogether
Of course—most natural The words were formally spoken and John did not speak again for some time
I hope—said Ursula breaking the pause and then stopping as if her own voice frightened her
What do you hope
That long before this moon has grown old you will be quite strong again
Thank you I hope so too I have need for strength God knows He sighed heavily
And you will have what you need so as to do your work in the world You must not be afraid
I am not afraid I shall bear my burthen like other men Every one has some inevitable burthen to bear
So I believe
And now the room darkened so fast that I could not see them but their voices seemed a great way off as the childrens voices playing at the old wellhead used to sound to me when I lay under the brow of the Flat—in the dim twilights at Enderley
I intend John said as soon as I am able to leave Norton Bury and go abroad for some time
Where
To America It is the best country for a young man who has neither money nor kindred nor position—nothing in fact but his own right hand with which to carve out his own fortunes—as I will if I can
She murmured something about this being quite right
I am glad you think so But his voice had resumed that formal tone which ever and anon mingled strangely with its low deep tenderness In any case I must quit England I have reasons for so doing
What reasons
The question seemed to startle John—he did not reply at once
If you wish I will tell you in order that should I ever come back—or if I should not come back at all you who were kind enough to be my friend will know I did not go away from mere youthful recklessness or love of change
He waited apparently for some answer—but it came not and he continued
I am going because there has befallen me a great trouble which while I stay here I cannot get free from or overcome I do not wish to sink under it—I had rather as you said Do my work in the world as a man ought No man has a right to say unto his Maker My burthen is heavier than I can bear Do you not think so
I do
Do you not think I am right in thus meeting and trying to conquer an inevitable ill
IS it inevitable
Hush John answered wildly Dont reason with me—you cannot judge—you do not know It is enough that I must go If I stay I shall become unworthy of myself unworthy of—Forgive me I have no right to talk thus but you called me friend and I would like you to think kindly of me always Because—because— and his voice shook—broke down utterly God love thee and take care of thee wherever I may go
John stay
It was but a low faint cry like that of a little bird But he heard it—felt it In the silence of the dark she crept up to him like a young bird to its mate and he took her into the shelter of his love for evermore At once all was made clear between them for whatever the world might say they were in the sight of heaven equal and she received as much as she gave
When Jael brought in lights the room seemed to me at first all in a wild dazzle Then I saw John rise and Miss March with him Holding her hand he led her across the room His head was erect his eyes shining—his whole aspect that of a man who declares before all the world This is MY OWN
Eh said my father gazing at them from over his spectacles
John spoke brokenly We have no parents neither she nor I Bless her—for she has promised to be my wife
And the old man blessed her with tears
CHAPTER XIX
I hardly like taking thee out this wet day Phineas—but it is a comfort to have thee
Perhaps it was for John was bent on a trying errand He was going to communicate to Mr Brithwood of the Mythe Ursulas legal guardian and trustee the fact that she had promised him her hand—him John Halifax the tanner He did it—nay insisted upon doing it—the day after he came of age and just one week after they had been betrothed—this nineteenth of June one thousand eight hundred and one
We reached the iron gate of the Mythe House—John hesitated a minute and then pulled the bell with a resolute hand
Do you remember the last time we stood here John I do well
But soon the happy smile faded from his lips and left them pressed together in a firm almost painful gravity He was not only a lover but a man And no man could go to meet what he knew he must meet in this house and on this errand altogether unmoved One might foresee a good deal—even in the knowing sideglance of the servant whom he startled with his name Mr Halifax
Mr Brithwoods busy sir—better come tomorrow suggested the man—evidently knowing enough upon his masters affairs
I am sorry to trouble him—but I must see Mr Brithwood today
And John determinedly followed the man into the grand empty diningroom where on crimson velvet chairs we sat and contemplated the great stags head with its branching horns the silver flagons and tankards and the throstles hopping outside across the rainy lawn at our full leisure too for the space of fifteen minutes
This will not do said John—quietly enough though this time it was with a less steady hand that he pulled the bell
Did you tell your master I was here
Yes sir And the grin with which the footman came in somehow slid away from his mouths corners
How soon may I have the honour of seeing him
He says sir you must send up your business by me
John paused evidently subduing something within him—something unworthy of Ursulas lover—of Ursulas husband that was to be
Tell your master my business is solely with himself and I must request to see him It is important say or I would not thus intrude upon his time
Very well sir
Ere long the man brought word that Mr Brithwood would be at liberty for five minutes only in the justiceroom We were led out crossing the courtyard once more—where just riding out I saw two ladies one of whom kissed her hand gaily to John Halifax—to the magistrates office There safely separated from his own noble mansion Mr Brithwood administered justice In the outer room a stout young fellow—a poacher probably—sat heavily ironed sullen and fierce and by the door a girl with a child in her arms and—God pity her—no ring on her finger stood crying another illlooking fellow maudlin drunk with a constable by him called out to us as we passed for a drop o beer
These were the people whom Richard Brithwood Esquire magistrate for the county of —— had to judge and punish according to his own sense of equity and his knowledge of his countrys law
He sat behind his officetable thoroughly magisterial dictating so energetically to his clerk behind him that we had both entered and John had crossed the room before he saw us or seemed to see
Mr Brithwood
Oh—Mr Halifax Goodmorning
John returned the salutation which was evidently meant to show that the giver bore no grudge that indeed it was impossible so dignified a personage as Richard Brithwood Esquire in his public capacity too could bear a grudge against so inferior an individual as John Halifax
I should be glad sir of a few minutes speech with you
Certainly—certainly speak on and he lent a magisterial ear
Excuse me my business is private said John looking at the clerk
No business is private here returned the squire haughtily
Then shall I speak with you elsewhere But I must have the honour of an interview with you and immediately
Whether Mr Brithwood was seized with some indefinite alarm he himself best knew why or whether Johns manner irresistibly compelled him to civility as the stronger always compels the weaker I cannot tell—but he signed to the clerk to leave the room
And Jones send back all the others to the lockup house till tomorrow Bless my life its near three oclock They cant expect to keep a gentlemans dinner waiting—these low fellows
I suppose this referred only to the culprits outside at all events we chose to take it so
Now—you sir—perhaps youll despatch your business the sooner the better
It will not take long It is a mere matter of form which nevertheless I felt it my duty to be the first to inform you Mr Brithwood I have the honour of bearing a message to you from your cousin—Miss Ursula March
Shes nothing to me—I never wish to see her face again the—the vixen
You will be kind enough if you please to avoid all such epithets at least in my hearing
Your hearing And pray who are you sir
You know quite well who I am
Oh yes And how goes the tanning Any offers in the horseflesh line Always happy to meet you in the way of business But what can you possibly have to do with me or with any member of my family
John bit his lip the squires manner was extremely galling more so perhaps in its outside civility than any gross rudeness
Mr Brithwood I was not speaking of myself but of the lady whose message I have the honour to bring you
That lady sir has chosen to put herself away from her family and her family can hold no further intercourse with her said the squire loftily
I am aware of that was the reply with at least equal hauteur
Are you And pray what right may you have to be acquainted with Miss Marchs private concerns
The right—which indeed was the purport of her message to you—that in a few months I shall become her husband
John said this very quietly—so quietly that at first the squire seemed hardly to credit his senses At last he burst into a hoarse laugh
Well that is the best joke I ever did hear
Pardon me I am perfectly serious
Bah how much money do you want fellow A pretty tale youll not get me to believe it—ha ha She wouldnt be so mad To be sure women have their fancies as we know and youre a likely young fellow enough but to marry you—
John sprang up—his whole frame quivering with fury Take care sir take care how you insult my WIFE
He stood over the wretch—the cowardly shrinking wretch—he did not touch him but he stood over him till terrified out of his life Richard Brithwood gasped out some apology
Sit down—pray sit down again Let us proceed in our business
John Halifax sat down
So—my cousin is your wife I think you were saying
She will be some months hence We were engaged a week ago with the full knowledge and consent of Doctor and Mrs Jessop her nearest friends
And of yours asked Mr Brithwood with as much sarcasm as his blunt wits could furnish him
I have no relatives
So I always understood And that being the case may I ask the meaning of the visit Where are your lawyers your marriage settlements hey I say young man—ha ha I should like to know what you can possibly want with me Miss Marchs trustee
Nothing whatever Miss March as you are aware is by her fathers will left perfectly free in her choice of marriage and she has chosen But since under certain circumstances I wish to act with perfect openness I came to tell you as her cousin and the executor of this will that she is about to become my wife
And he lingered over that name as if its very utterance strengthened and calmed him
May I inquire into those certain circumstances asked the other still derisively
You know them already Miss March has a fortune and I have none and though I wish that difference were on the other side—though it might and did hinder me from seeking her—yet now she is sought and won it shall not hinder my marrying her
Likely not sneered Mr Brithwood
Johns passion was rising again
I repeat it shall not hinder me The world may say what it chooses we follow a higher law than the world—she and I She knows me she is not afraid to trust her whole life with me am I to be afraid to trust her Am I to be such a coward as not to dare to marry the woman I love because the world might say I married her for her money
He stood his clenched hand resting on the table looking full into Richard Brithwoods face The squire sat dumfoundered at the young mans vehemence
Your pardon John added more calmly Perhaps I owe her some pardon too for bringing her name thus into discussion but I wished to have everything clear between myself and you her nearest relative You now know exactly how the matter stands I will detain you no longer—I have nothing more to say
But I have roared out the squire at length recovering himself seeing his opponent had quitted the field Stop a minute
John paused at the door
Tell Ursula March she may marry you or any other vagabond she pleases—its no business of mine But her fortune is my business and its in my hands too Mights right and possessions ninetenths of the law Not one penny shall she get out of my fingers as long as I can keep hold of it
John bowed his hand still on the door As you please Mr Brithwood That was not the subject of our interview Goodmorning
And we were away
Recrossing the iron gates and out into the open road John breathed freely
Thats over—all is well
Do you think what he threatened is true Can he do it
Very likely dont let us talk about that And he walked on lightly as if a load were taken off his mind and body and soul leaped up to meet the glory of the summer sunshine the freshness of the summer air
Oh what a day is this—after the rain too How she will enjoy it
And coming home through Norton Bury we met her walking with Mrs Jessop No need to dread that meeting now
Yet she looked up questioning through her blushes Of course he had told her where we were going today her who had a right to know every one of his concerns now
Yes dear all is quite right Do not be afraid
Afraid indeed Not the least fear was in those clear eyes Nothing but perfect content—perfect trust
John drew her arm through his Come we need not mind Norton Bury now he said smiling
So they two walked forward talking as we could see earnestly and rather seriously to one another while Mrs Jessop and I followed behind
Bless their dear hearts said the old lady as she sat resting on the stile of a beanfield Well we have all been young once
Not all good Mrs Jessop thought I not all
Yet surely it was most pleasant to see them as it is to see all true lovers—young lovers too in the morning of their days Pleasant to see written on every line of their happy faces the blessedness of Natures law of love—love began in youthtime sincere and pure free from all sentimental shams or follies or shames—love mutually plighted the next strongest bond to that in which it will end and is meant to end Gods holy ordinance of marriage
We came back across the fields to tea at Mrs Jessops It was Johns custom to go there almost every evening though certainly he could not be said to go acourting Nothing could be more unlike it than his demeanour or indeed the demeanour of both They were very quiet lovers never making much of one another before folk No whispering in corners or stealing away down garden walks No public show of caresses—caresses whose very sweetness must consist in their entire sacredness at least I should think so No coquettish exactions no testing of eithers power over the other in those perilous small quarrels which may be the renewal of passion but are the death of true love
No our young couple were wellbehaved always She sat at her work and he made himself generally pleasant falling in kindly to the Jessops household ways But whatever he was about at Ursulas lightest movement at the least sound of her voice I could see him lift a quiet glance as if always conscious of her presence her who was the delight of his eyes
Tonight more than ever before this soft invisible link seemed to be drawn closer between them though they spoke little together and even sat at opposite sides of the table but whenever their looks met one could trace a soft smiling interchange full of trust and peace and joy He had evidently told her all that had happened today and she was satisfied
More perhaps than I was for I knew how little John would have to live upon besides what means his wife brought him but that was their own affair and I had no business to make public my doubts or fears
We all sat round the teatable talking gaily together and then John left us reluctantly enough but he always made a point of going to the tanyard for an hour or two in my fathers stead every evening Ursula let him out at the front door this was her right silently claimed which nobody either jested at or interfered with
When she returned and perhaps she had been away a minute or two longer than was absolutely necessary there was a wonderful brightness on her young face though she listened with a degree of attention most creditable in its gravity to a long dissertation of Mrs Jessops on the best and cheapest way of making jam and pickles
You know my dear you ought to begin and learn all about such things now
Yes said Miss March with a little droop of the head
I assure you—turning to me—she comes every day into the kitchen—never mind my dear one can say anything to Mr Fletcher And what lady need be ashamed of knowing how a dinner is cooked and a household kept in order
Nay she should rather be proud I know John thinks so
At this answer of mine Ursula half smiled but there was a colour in her cheek and a thoughtfulness in her eyes deeper than any that our conversation warranted or occasioned I was planning how to divert Mrs Jessop from the subject when it was broken at once by a sudden entrance which startled us all like a flash of lightning
Stole away stole away as my husband would say Here have I come in the dusk all through the streets to Dr Jessops very door How is she where is she ma petite
Caroline
Ah come forward I havent seen you for an age
And Lady Caroline kissed her on both cheeks in her lively French fashion which Ursula received patiently and returned—no I will not be certain whether she returned it or not
Pardon—how do you do Mrs Jessop my dear woman What trouble I have had in coming Are you not glad to see me Ursula
Yes very In that sincere voice which never either falsified or exaggerated a syllable
Did you ever expect to see me again
No certainly I did not And I would almost rather not see you now if—
If Richard Brithwood did not approve of it Bah what notions you always had of marital supremacy So ma chere you are going to be married yourself I hear
Yes
Why how quietly you seem to take it The news perfectly electrified me this morning I always said that young man was un heros de romans Ma foi this is the prettiest little episode I ever heard of Just King Cophetua and the beggarmaid—only reversed How do you feel my Queen Cophetua
I do not quite understand you Caroline
Neither should I you for the tale seems incredible Only you gave me such an honest yes and I know you never tell even white lies But it cant be true at least not certain A little affaire de coeur maybe—ah I had several before I was twenty—very pleasant chivalrous romantic and all that and such a brave young fellow too Helas love is sweet at your age—with a little sigh—but marriage My dear child you are not surely promised to this youth
I am
How sharply you say it Nay dont be angry I liked him greatly A very pretty fellow But then he belongs to the people
So do I
Naughty child you will not comprehend me I mean the lower orders the bourgeoisie My husband says he is a tanners prenticeboy
He was apprentice he is now partner in Mr Fletchers tanyard
That is nearly as bad And so you are actually going to marry a tanner
I am going to marry Mr Halifax We will if you please cease to discuss him Lady Caroline
La belle sauvage laughed the lady and in the dusk I fancied I saw her reach over to pat Ursulas hand in her careless pretty way Nay I meant no harm
I am sure you did not but we will change the subject
Not at all I came to talk about it I couldnt sleep till I had Je taime bien tu le sais ma petite Ursule
Thank you said Ursula gently
And I would like well to see you married Truly we women must marry or be nothing at all But as to marrying for love as we used to think of and as charming poets make believe—my dear nowadays nous avons change tout cela
Ursula replied nothing
I suppose my friend the young bourgeois is very much in love with you With les beaux yeux de votre cassette Richard swears but I know better What of that All men say they love one—but it will not last It burns itself out It will be over in a year as we wives all know Do we not Mrs Jessop Ah she is gone away
Probably they thought I was away too—or else they took no notice of me—and went talking on
Jane would not have agreed with you Cousin Caroline she loved her husband very dearly when she was a girl They were poor and he was afraid to marry so he let her go That was wrong I think
How wise we are growing in these things now laughed Lady Caroline But come I am not interested in old turtledoves Say about yourself
I have nothing more to say
Nothing more Mon Dieu are you aware that Richard is furious that he vows he will keep every sou he has of yours—law or no law—for as long as ever he can He declared so this morning Did young Halifax tell you
Mr Halifax has told me
MR Halifax how proudly she says it And are you still going to be married to him
Yes
What a bourgeois—a tradesman with no more money than those sort of people usually have I believe You who have had all sorts of comforts have always lived as a gentlewoman Truly though I adore a lovemarriage in theory practically I think you are mad—quite mad my dear
Do you
And he too Verily what men are Especially men in love All selfish together
Caroline
Isnt it selfish to drag a pretty creature down and make her a drudge a slave—a mere poor mans wife
She is proud of being such burst in the indignant young voice Lady Caroline you may say what you like to me you were kind always and I was fond of you but you shall not say a word against Mr Halifax You do not know him—how could you
And you do Ah ma petite we all think that till we find out to the contrary And so he urges you to be married at once—rich or poor—at all risks at all costs How loverlike—how like a man I guess it all Half beseeches—half persuades—
He does not And the girls voice was sharp with pain I would not have told you but I must—for his sake He asked me this afternoon if I was afraid of being poor if I would like to wait and let him work hard alone till he could give me a home like that I was born to He did Caroline
And you answered—
No—a thousand times no He will have a hard battle to fight—would I let him fight it alone when I can help him—when he says I can
Ah child you that know nothing of poverty how can you bear it
I will try
You that never ruled a house in your life—
I can learn
Ciel tis wonderful And this young man has no friends no connections no fortune only himself
Only himself said Ursula with a proud contempt
Will you tell me my dear why you marry him
Because—and Ursula spoke in low tones that seemed wrung out of her almost against her will—because I honour him because I trust him and young as I am I have seen enough of the world to be thankful that there is in it one man whom I can trust can honour entirely Also—though I am often ashamed lest this be selfish—because when I was in trouble he helped me when I was misjudged he believed in me when I was sad and desolate he loved me And I am proud of his love—I glory in it No one shall take it from me—no one will—no one can unless I cease to deserve it
Lady Caroline was silent Despite her will you might hear a sigh breaking from some deep corner of that light frivolous heart
Bien chacun a son gout But you have never stated one trifle—not unnecessary perhaps though most married folk get on quite well without it—Honour trust—pshaw My child—do you LOVE Mr Halifax
No answer
Nay why be shy In England they say and among the people—no offence ma petite—one does sometimes happen to care for the man one marries Tell me for I must be gone do you love him one word whether or no
Just then the light coming in showed Ursulas face beautiful with more than happiness uplifted even with a religious thankfulness as she said simply
John knows
CHAPTER XX
In the late autumn John married Ursula March He was twentyone and she eighteen It was very young—too young perhaps prudent folk might say and yet sometimes I think a double blessing falls on unions like this A right and holy marriage a true lovemarriage be it early or late is—must be—sanctified and happy yet those have the best chance of happiness who meeting on the very threshold of life enter upon its duties together with free fresh hearts easily moulded the one to the other rich in all the riches of youth acute to enjoy brave and hopeful to endure
Such were these two—God bless them
They were married quite privately neither having any near kindred Besides John held strongly the opinion that so solemn a festival as marriage is only desecrated by outward show And so one golden autumn morning Ursula walked quietly up the Abbey aisle in her plain white muslin gown and John and she plighted their faithful vows no one being present except the Jessops and I They then went away for a brief holiday—went away without either pomp or tears entirely happy—husband and wife together
When I came home and said what had happened my good father seemed little surprised He had expressly desired not to be told anything of the wedding till all was over—he hated marriages
But since it is done maybe tis as well said he grimly She seems a kindly young thing wise even—for a woman
And pleasant too father
Ay but favour is deceitful and beauty vain So the lads gone and he looked round as if missing John who had lived in our house ever since his illness I thought as much when he bade me goodnight and asked my leave to take a journey So hes married and gone Come Phineas sit thee down by thy old father I am glad thee wilt always remain a bachelor
We settled ourselves my father and I and while the old man smoked his meditative pipe I sat thinking of the winter evenings when we two lads had read by the fireside the summer days when we had lounged on the garden wall He was a married man now the head of a household others had a right—the first best holiest right—to the love that used to be all mine and though it was a marriage entirely happy and hopeful though all that day and every day I rejoiced both with and for my brother still it was rather sad to miss him from our house to feel that his boyish days were quite over—that his boyish place would know him no more
But of course I had fully overcome or at least suppressed this feeling when John having brought his wife home I went to see them in their own house
I had seen it once before it was an old dwellinghouse which my father bought with the flourmill situated in the middle of the town the front windows looking on the street the desolate garden behind shut in by four brick walls A most unbridallike abode I feared they would find it so even though John had been busy there the last two months in early mornings and late evenings keeping a comical secrecy over the matter as if he were jealous that any one but himself should lend an eye or put a finger to the dear task of making ready for his young wife
They could not be great preparations I knew for the third of my fathers business promised but a small income Yet the gloomy outside being once passed the house looked wonderfully bright and clean the walls and doors newlypainted and delicately stencilled—Master did all that himself observed the proud little handmaid Jenny—Jem Watkinss sweetheart I had begged the place for her myself of Mistress Ursula Though only a few rooms were furnished and that very simply almost poorly all was done with taste and care the colours well mingled the woodwork graceful and good
They were out gardening John Halifax and his wife
Ay his wife he was a husband now They looked so young both of them he kneeling planting boxedging she standing by him with her hand on his shoulder—the hand with the ring on it He was laughing at something she had said thy very laugh of old David Neither heard me come till I stood close by
Phineas welcome welcome He wrung my hand fervently many times so did Ursula blushing rosy red They both called me brother and both were as fond and warm as any brother and sister could be
A few minutes after Ursula—Mrs Halifax as I said I ought to call her now—slipped away into the house and John and I were left together He glanced after his wife till she was out of sight played with the spade threw it down placed his two hands on my shoulders and looked hard in my face He was trembling with deep emotion
Art thou happy David
Ay lad almost afraid of my happiness God make me worthy of it and of her
He lifted his eyes upwards there was in them a new look sweet and solemn a look which expressed the satisfied content of a life now rounded and completed by that other dear life which it had received into and united with its own—making a full and perfect whole which however kindly and fondly it may look on friends and kindred outside has no absolute need of any but is complete in and sufficient to itself as true marriage should be A look unconsciously fulfilling the law—Gods own law—that a man shall leave father and mother brethren and companions and shall cleave unto his wife and they two shall become one flesh
And although I rejoiced in his joy still I felt halfsadly for a moment the vague fine line of division which was thus for evermore drawn between him and me of no fault on either side and of which he himself was unaware It was but the right and natural law of things the difference between the married and unmarried which only the latter feel Which perhaps the Divine One meant them to feel—that out of their great solitude of this world may grow a little inner Eden where they may hear His voice walking in the garden in the cool of the day
We went round Johns garden there was nothing Edenlike about it being somewhat of a waste still divided between ancient cabbagebeds empty flowerbeds and great old orchardtrees very thinly laden with fruit
Well make them bear better next year said John hopefully We may have a very decent garden here in time He looked round his little domain with the eye of a master and put his arm half proudly half shyly round his wifes shoulders—she had sidled up to him ostensibly bringing him a letter though possibly only for an excuse because in those sweet early days they naturally liked to be in each others sight continually It was very beautiful to see what a demure soft meek matronliness had come over the high spirit of the Nutbrowne Mayde
May I read she said peeping over him
Of course you may little one A comical pet name for him to give her who was anything but small I could have smiled remembering the time when John Halifax bowed to the stately and dignified young gentlewoman who stood at Mrs Tods door To think he should ever have come to call Miss Ursula March little one
But this was not exactly a time for jesting since on reading the letter I saw the young wife flush an angry red and then look grave Until John crumpling up the paper and dropping it almost with a boyish frolic into the middle of a large rosemarybush took his wife by both her hands and gazed down into her troubled face smiling
You surely dont mind this love We knew it all before It can make no possible difference
No But it is so wrong—so unjust I never believed he dared do it—to you
Hear her Phineas She thinks nobody dare do anything ill to her husband—not even Richard Brithwood
He is a—
Hush dear—we will not talk about him since for all his threats he can do us no harm and poor man he never will be half as happy as we
That was true So Mr Brithwoods insulting letter was left to moulder harmlessly away in the rosemarybush and we all walked up and down the garden talking over a thousand plans for making ends meet in that little household To their young hopefulness even poverty itself became a jest and was met cheerfully like an honest hardfeatured hardhanded friend whose rough face was often kindly and whose harsh grasp made one feel the strength of ones own
We mean John said gaily to be two living Essays on the Advantages of Poverty We are not going to be afraid of it or ashamed of it We dont care who knows it We consider that our respectability lies solely in our two selves
But your neighbours
Our neighbours may think of us exactly what they like Half the sting of poverty is gone when one keeps house for ones own comfort and not for the comments of ones neighbours
I should think not Ursula cried tossing back her head in merry defiance Besides we are young we have few wants and we can easily reduce our wants to our havings
And no more grey silk gowns said her husband halffondly halfsadly
You will not be so rude as to say I shall not look equally well in a cotton one And as for being as happy in it—why I know best
He smiled at her once more—that tender manly smile which made all soft and lustrous the inmost depths of his brown eyes truly no woman need be afraid with a smile like that to be the strength the guidance the sunshine of her home
We went in and the young mistress showed us her new house we investigated and admired all down to the very scullery then we adjourned to the sittingroom—the only one—and after tea Ursula arranged her books some on stained shelves which she proudly informed me were of Johns own making and some on an old spinet which he had picked up and which he said was of no other use than to hold books since she was not an accomplished young lady and could neither sing nor play
But you dont dislike the spinet Ursula It caught my fancy Do you know I have a faint remembrance that once on such a thing as this my mother used to play
He spoke in a low voice Ursula stole up to him with a fond awed look
You never told me anything about your mother
Dear I had little to tell Long ago you knew whom you were going to marry—John Halifax who had no friends no kindred whose parents left him nothing but his name
And you cannot remember them
My father not at all my mother very little
And have you nothing belonging to them
Only one thing Should you like to see it
Very much She still spoke slowly and with slight hesitation It was hard for him not to have known his parents she added when John had left the room I should like to have known them too But still—when I know HIM—
She smiled tossed back the coronet of curls from her forehead—her proud pure forehead that would have worn a coronet of jewels more meekly than it now wore the unadorned honour of being John Halifaxs wife I wished he could have seen her
That minute he reappeared
Here Ursula is all I have of my parents No one has seen it except Phineas there until now
He held in his hand the little Greek Testament which he had showed me years before Carefully and with the same fond reverent look as when he was a boy he undid the case made of silk with ribbon strings—doubtless a womans work—it must have been his mothers His wife touched it softly and tenderly He showed her the flyleaf she looked over the inscription and then repeated it aloud
Guy Halifax gentleman I thought—I thought—
Her manner betrayed a pleased surprise she would not have been a woman especially a woman reared in pride of birth not to have felt and testified the like pleasure for a moment
You thought that I was only a labourers son or—nobodys Well does it signify
No she cried as clinging round his neck and throwing her head back she looked at him with all her heart in her eyes No it does NOT signify Were your father the king on his throne or the beggar in the streets it would be all the same to me you would still be yourself—MY husband—MY John Halifax
God bless thee—my own wife that He has given me John murmured through his close embrace
They had altogether forgotten any ones presence dear souls so I kept them in that happy oblivion by slipping out to Jenny in the kitchen and planning with her how we could at least spare Jem Watkins two days a week to help in the garden under Mr Halifaxs orders
Only Jenny smiled I with a warning finger no idling and chattering Young folk must work hard if they want to come to the happy ending of your master and mistress
The little maid grew the colour of her swains pet peonies and promised obedience Conscientious Jem there was no fear of—all the rosycheeked damsels in Christendom would not have turned him aside from one iota of his duty to Mr Halifax Thus there was love in the parlour and love in the kitchen But I verily believe the young married couple were served all the better for their kindness and sympathy to the humble pair of sweethearts in the rank below them
John walked home with me—a pleasure I had hardly expected but which was insisted upon both by him and Ursula For from the very first of her betrothal there had been a thorough brotherandsisterly bond established between her and me Her womanly generous nature would have scorned to do what as I have heard many young wives do—seek to make coldness between her husband and his old friends No secure in her riches in her rightful possession of his whole heart she took into hers everything that belonged to John every one he cared for to be for ever held sacred and beloved being his and therefore her own Thus we were the very best of friends my sister Ursula and me
John and I talked a little about her—of her rosy looks which he hoped would not fade in their town dwelling—and of good Mrs Tods wonderful delight at seeing her when last week they had stayed two days in the dear old cottage at Enderley But he seemed slow to speak about his wife or to dilate on a joy so new that it was hardly to be breathed on lest it might melt into air
Only when as we were crossing the street a fine equipage passed he looked after it with a smile
Grey ponies she is so fond of longtailed grey ponies Poor child when shall I be able to give her a carriage Perhaps some day—who knows
He turned the conversation and began telling me about the cloth mill—his old place of resort which he had been over once again when they were at Rose Cottage
And do you know while I was looking at the machinery a notion came into my head that instead of that great waterwheel—you remember it—it might be worked by steam
What sort of steam
Phineas your memory is no better I see Have you forgotten my telling you how last year some Scotch engineer tried to move boats by steam on the Forth and Clyde canal Why should not the same power be turned to account in a clothmill I know it could—I have got the plan of the machinery in my head already I made a drawing of it last night and showed it to Ursula SHE understood it directly
I smiled
And I do believe by common patience and skill a man might make his fortune with it at those Enderley clothmills
Suppose you try I said in half jest and was surprised to see how seriously John took it
I wish I could try—if it were only practicable Once or twice I have thought it might be The mill belongs to Lord Luxmore His steward works it Now if one could get to be a foreman or overseer—
Try—you can do anything you try
No I must not think of it—she and I have agreed that I must not said he steadily Its my weakness—my hobby you know But—no hobbies now Above all I must not for a mere fancy give up the work that lies under my hand What of the tanyard Phineas
My father missed you and grumbled after you a good deal He looks anxious I think He vexes himself more than he needs about business
Dont let him Keep him as much at home as you can Ill manage the tanyard you know—and he knows too—that everything which can be done for us all I shall do
I looked up surprised at the extreme earnestness of his manner
Surely John—
Nay there is nothing to be uneasy about—nothing more than there has been for this year past All trade is bad just now Never fear well weather the storm—Im not afraid
Cheerfully as he spoke I began to guess—what he already must have known—that our fortunes were as a slowly leaking ship of which the helm had slipped from my old fathers feeble hand But John had taken it—John stood firm at the wheel Perhaps with Gods blessing he might guide us safe to land
I had not time to say more when with its pretty grey ponies the curricle once more passed our way Two ladies were in it one leaned out and bowed Presently a lacquey came to beg Mr Halifax would come and speak with Lady Caroline Brithwood
Shall you go John
Certainly—why not And he stepped forward to the carriageside
Ah delighted to see mon beau cousin This is he Emma turning to the lady who sat by her—oh what a lovely face that lady had no wonder it drove men mad ay even that brave man in whose honest life can be chronicled only this one sin of being bewitched by her
John caught the name—perhaps too he recognized the face—it was only too public alas His own took a sternness such as I had never before seen and yet there was a trace of pity in it too
You are quite well Indeed he looks so—nestce pas ma chere
John bore gravely the eyes of the two ladies fixed on him in rather too plain admiration—very gravely too he bowed
And what of our young bride our treasure that we stole—nay it was quite fair—quite fair How is Ursula
I thank you Mrs Halifax is well
Lady Caroline smiled at the manner courteous through all its coldness which not ill became the young man But she would not be repelled
I am delighted to have met you Indeed we must be friends Ones friends need not always be the same as ones husbands eh Emma You will be enchanted with our fair bride We must both seize the first opportunity and come as disguised princesses to visit Mrs Halifax
Again let me thank you Lady Caroline But—
No buts I am resolved Mr Brithwood will never find it out And if he does—why he may I like you both I intend us to be excellent friends whenever I chance to be at Norton Bury Dont be proud and reject me theres good people—the only good people I ever knew who were not disagreeable
And leaning on her large ermine muff she looked right into Johns face with the winning sweetness which Nature not courts lent to those fair features—already beginning to fade already trying to hide by art their painful premature decay
John returned the look half sorrowfully it was so hard to give back harshness to kindliness But a light laugh from the other lady caught his ear and his hesitation—if hesitation he had feltwas over
No Lady Caroline it cannot be You will soon see yourself that it cannot Living as we do in the same neighbourhood we may meet occasionally by chance and always I hope with kindly feeling but under present circumstances—indeed under any circumstances—intimacy between your house and ours would be impossible
Lady Caroline shrugged her shoulders with a pretty air of pique As you will I never trouble myself to court the friendship of any one Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle
Do not mistake me John said earnestly Do not suppose I am ungrateful for your former kindness to my wife but the difference between her and you—between your life and hers—is so extreme
Vraiment with another shrug and smile rather a bitter one
Our two paths lie wide apart—wide as the poles our house and our society would not suit you and that my wife should ever enter yours—glancing from one to the other of those two faces painted with false roses lit by false smiles—No Lady Caroline he added firmly it is impossible
She looked mortified for a moment and then resumed her gaiety which nothing could ever banish long
Hear him Emma So young and so unkindly Mais nous verrons You will change your mind Au revoir mon beau cousin
They drove off quickly and were gone
John what will Mrs Halifax say
My innocent girl thank God she is safe away from them all—safe in a poor mans honest breast He spoke with much emotion
Yet Lady Caroline—
Did you see who sat beside her
That beautiful woman
Poor soul alas for her beauty Phineas that was Lady Hamilton
He said no more nor I At my own door he left me with his old merry laugh his old familiar grasp of my shoulder
Lad take care of thyself though Im not by to see Remember I am just as much thy tyrant as if I were living here still
I smiled and he went his way to his own quiet blessed married home
CHAPTER XXI
The winter and spring passed calmly by I had much illhealth and could go out very little but they came constantly to me John and Ursula especially the latter During this illness when I learned to watch longingly for her kind face and listen for her cheerful voice talking pleasantly and sisterly beside my chair she taught me to give up Mrs Halifax and call her Ursula It was only by slow degrees I did so truly for she was not one of those gentle creatures whom married or single one calls instinctively by their Christian names Her manner in girlhood was not exactly either meek or gentle except towards him the only one who ever ruled her and to whom she was through life the meekest and tenderest of women To every one else she comported herself at least in youth with a dignity and decision—a certain standoffishness—so that as I said it was not quite easy to speak to or think of her as Ursula Afterwards when seen in the light of a new character for which Heaven destined and especially fitted her and in which she appeared altogether beautiful—I began to give her another name—but it will come by and by
In the long midsummer days when our house was very quiet and rather dreary I got into the habit of creeping over to Johns home and sitting for hours under the appletrees in his garden It was now different from the wilderness he found it the old trees were pruned and tended and young ones planted Mrs Halifax called it proudly our orchard though the top of the tallest sapling could be reached with her hand Then in addition to the indigenous cabbages came long rows of whiteblossomed peas bigheaded cauliflowers and all vegetables easy of cultivation My father sent contributions from his celebrated gooseberrybushes and his wallfruit the pride of Norton Bury Mrs Jessop stocked the borders from her great parterres of sweetscented common flowers so that walled in as it was and in the midst of a town likewise it was growing into a very tolerable garden Just the kind of garden that I love—half trim half wild—fruits flowers and vegetables living in comfortable equality and fraternity none being too choice to be harmed by their neighbours none esteemed too mean to be restricted in their natural profusion Oh dear oldfashioned garden full of sweetWilliams and whiteNancies and larkspur and Londonpride and yardwide beds of snowy saxifrage and tall pale evening primroses and hollyhocks six or seven feet high manytinted from yellow to darkest rubycolour while for scents large blushing cabbageroses pinks gillyflowers with here and there a great bush of southernwood or rosemary or a border of thyme or a sweetbriar hedge—a pleasant garden where all colours and perfumes were blended together ay even a stray dandelion that stood boldly up in his yellow waistcoat like a young country bumpkin who feels himself a decent lad in his way—or a plant of wild marjoram that had somehow got in and kept meekly in a corner of the bed trying to turn into a respectable cultivated herb Dear old garden—such as one rarely sees nowadays—I would give the finest modern pleasureground for the like of thee
This was what Johns garden became its every inch and every flower still live in more memories than mine and will for a generation yet but I am speaking of it when it was young like its gardeners These were Mrs Halifax and her husband Jem and Jenny The master could not do much he had long long hours in his business but I used to watch Ursula morning after morning superintending her domain with her faithful attendant Jem—Jem adored his missis Or else when it was hot noon I used to lie in their cool parlour and listen to her voice and step about the house teaching Jenny or learning from her—for the young gentlewoman had much to learn and was not ashamed of it either She laughed at her own mistakes and tried again she never was idle or dull for a minute She did a great deal in the house herself Often she would sit chatting with me having on her lap a coarse brown pan shelling peas slicing beans picking gooseberries her fingers—Miss Marchs fair fingers—looking fairer for the contrast with their unaccustomed work Or else in the summer evenings she would be at the window sewing—always sewing—but so placed that with one glance she could see down the street where John was coming Far far off she always saw him and at the sight her whole face would change and brighten like a meadow when the sun comes out Then she ran to open the door and I could hear his low my darling and a long long pause in the hall
They were very very happy in those early days—those quiet days of poverty when they visited nobody and nobody visited them when their whole world was bounded by the dark old house and the garden with its four high walls
One July night I remember John and I were walking up and down the paths by starlight It was very hot weather inclining one to stay without doors half the night Ursula had been with us a good while strolling about on her husbands arm then he had sent her in to rest and we two remained out together
How soft they were those faint misty summer stars what a mysterious perfumy haze they let fall over us—A haze through which all around seemed melting away in delicious intangible sweetness in which the very sky above our heads—the shining worldbesprinkled sky—was a thing felt rather than seen
How strange all seems how unreal said John in a low voice when he had walked the length of the garden in silence Phineas how very strange it seems
What seems
What—oh everything He hesitated a minute No not everything—but something which to me seems now to fill and be mixed up with all I do or think or feel Something you do not know—but tonight Ursula said I might tell you
Nevertheless he was several minutes before he told me
This peartree is full of fruit—is it not How thick they hang and yet it seems but yesterday that Ursula and I were standing here trying to count the blossoms
He stopped—touching a branch with his hand His voice sank so I could hardly hear it
Do you know Phineas that when this tree is bare—we shall if with Gods blessing all goes well—we shall have—a little child
I wrung his hand in silence
You cannot imagine how strange it feels A child—hers and mine—little feet to go pattering about our house—a little voice to say—Think that by Christmastime I shall be a FATHER
He sat down on the gardenbench and did not speak for a long time
I wonder he said at last if when I was born MY father was as young as I am whether he felt as I do now You cannot think what an awful joy it is to be looking forward to a child a little soul of Gods giving to be made fit for His eternity How shall we do it we that are both so ignorant so young—she will be only just nineteen when please God her baby is born Sometimes of an evening we sit for hours on this bench she and I talking of what we ought to do and how we ought to rear the little thing until we fall into silence awed at the blessing that is coming to us
God will help you both and make you wise
We trust He will and then we are not afraid
A little while longer I sat by Johns side catching the dim outline of his face half uplifted looking towards those myriad worlds which we are taught to believe and do believe are not more precious in the Almighty sight than one living human soul
But he said no more of the hope that was coming or of the thoughts which in the holy hush of that summer night had risen out of the deep of his heart And though after this time they never again formed themselves into words yet he knew well that not a hope or joy or fear of his whether understood or not could be unshared by me
In the winter when the first snow lay on the ground the little one came
It was a girl—I think they had wished for a son but they forgot all about it when the tiny maiden appeared She was a pretty baby—at least all the womenkind said so from Mrs Jessop down to Jael who left our poor house to its own devices and trod stately in Mrs Halifaxs exhibiting to all beholders the mass of white draperies with the infinitesimal human morsel inside them which she vehemently declared was the very image of its father
For that young father—
But I—what can I say How should I tell of the joy of a man over his firstborn
I did not see John till a day afterwards—when he came into our house calm happy smiling But Jael told me that when she first placed his baby in his arms he had wept like a child
The little maiden grew with the snowdrops Winter might have dropped her out of his very lap so exceedingly fair pale and purelooking was she I had never seen or at least never noticed any young baby before but she crept into my heart before I was aware I seem to have a clear remembrance of all the data in her still and quiet infancy from the time her weekold fingers with their tiny pink nails—a ludicrous picture of her fathers hand in little—made me smile as they closed over mine
She was named Muriel—after the rather peculiar name of Johns mother Her own mother would have it so only wishing out of her full heart happy one that there should be a slight alteration made in the second name Therefore the baby was called Muriel Joy—Muriel Joy Halifax
That name—beautiful sacred and nevertobeforgotten among us—I write it now with tears
In December 1802 she was born—our Muriel And on February 9th—alas I have need to remember the date—she formally received her name We all dined at Johns house—Dr and Mrs Jessop my father and I
It was the first time my father had taken a meal under any roof but his own for twenty years We had not expected him since when asked and entreated he only shook his head but just when we were all sitting down to the table Ursula at the foot her cheeks flushed and her lips dimpling with a housewifely delight that everything was so nice and neat she startled us by a little cry of pleasure And there in the doorway stood my father
His broad figure but slightly bent even now his smoothshaven face withered but of a pale brown still with the hard lines softening down and the keen eyes kinder than they used to be dressed carefully in his Firstday clothes the stainless white kerchief supporting his large chin his Quakers hat in one hand his stick in the other looking in at us a halfamused twitch mingling with the gravity of his mouth—thus he stood—thus I see thee O my dear old father
The young couple seemed as if they never could welcome him enough He only said I thank thee John I thank thee Ursula and took his place beside the latter giving no reason why he had changed his mind and come Simple as the dinner was—simple as befitted those who their guests knew could not honestly afford luxuries though there were no ornaments save the centre nosegay of laurustinus and white Christmas roses—I do not think King George himself ever sat down to a nobler feast
Afterwards we drew merrily round the fire or watched outside the window the thickly falling snow
It has not snowed these two months said John never since the day our little girl was born
And at that moment as if she heard herself mentioned and was indignant at our having forgotten her so long the little maid upstairs set up a cry—that unmistakable childs cry which seems to change the whole atmosphere of a household
My father gave a start—he had never seen or expressed a wish to see Johns daughter We knew he did not like babies Again the little helpless wail Ursula rose and stole away—Abel Fletcher looked after her with a curious expression then began to say something about going back to the tanyard
Do not pray do not leave us John entreated Ursula wants to show you our little lady
My father put out his hands in deprecation or as if desiring to thrust from him a host of thronging battling thoughts Still came faintly down at intervals the tiny voice dropping into a soft coo of pleasure like a wooddove in its nest—every mother knows the sound And then Mrs Halifax entered holding in her arms her little winter flower her baby daughter
Abel Fletcher just looked at it and her—closed his eyes against both and looked no more
Ursula seemed pained a moment but soon forgot it in the general admiration of her treasure
She might well come in a snowstorm said Mrs Jessop taking the child She is just like snow so soft and white
And as soundless—she hardly ever cries She just lies in this way half the day over cooing quietly with her eyes shut There she has caught your dress fast Now was there ever a two months old baby so quick at noticing things and she does it all with her fingers—she touches everything—ah take care doctor the mother added reproachfully at a loud slam of the door which made the baby tremble all over
I never knew a child so susceptible of sounds said John as he began talking to it and soothing it—how strange it was to see him and yet it seemed quite natural already I think even now she knows the difference between her mothers voice and mine and any sudden noise always startles her in this way
She must have astonishingly quick hearing said the doctor slightly annoyed Ursula wisely began to talk of something else—showed Muriels eyelashes very long for such a baby—and descanted on the colour of her eyes that fruitful and neverending theme of mothers and friends
I think they are like her fathers yes certainly like her fathers But we have not many opportunities of judging for she is such a lazy young damsel she hardly ever opens them—we should often fancy her asleep but for that little soft coo and then she will wake up all of a sudden There now do you see her Come to the window my beauty and show Dr Jessop your bonny brown eyes
They were bonny eyes lovely in shape and colour delicately fringed but there was something strange in their expression—or rather in their want of it Many babies have a round vacant stare—but this was no stare only a wide full look—a look of quiet blankness—an UNSEEING look
It caught Dr Jessops notice I saw his air of vexed dignity change into a certain anxiety
Well whose are they like—her fathers or mine His I hope—it will be the better for her beauty Nay well excuse all compliments
I—I cant exactly tell I could judge better by candlelight
Well have candles
No—no Had we not better put it off altogether till another day—Ill call in tomorrow and look at her eyes
His manner was hesitating and troubled John noticed it
Love give her to me Go and get us lights will you
When she was gone John took his baby to the window gazed long and intently into her little face then at Dr Jessop Do you think—no—its not possible—that there can be anything the matter with the childs eyes
Ursula coming in heard the last words
What was that you said about babys eyes
No one answered her All were gathered in a group at the window the child being held on her fathers lap while Dr Jessop was trying to open the small white lids kept so continually closed At last the baby uttered a little cry of pain—the mother darted forward and clasped it almost savagely to her breast
I will not have my baby hurt There is nothing wrong with her sweet eyes Go away you shall not touch her John
Love
She melted at that low fond word leaning against his shoulder—trying to control her tears
It shocked me so—the bare thought of such a thing Oh husband dont let her be looked at again
Only once again my darling It is best Then we shall be quite satisfied Phineas give me the candle
The words—caressing and by strong constraint made calm and soothing—were yet firm Ursula resisted no more but let him take Muriel—little unconscious cooing dove Lulled by her fathers voice she once more opened her eyes wide Dr Jessop passed the candle before them many times once so close that it almost touched her face but the full quiet eyes never blenched nor closed He set the light down
Doctor whispered the father in a wild appeal against—ay it was against certainty He snatched the candle and tried the experiment himself
She does not see at all Can she be blind
Born blind
Yes those pretty babyeyes were dark—quite dark There was nothing painful nor unnatural in their look save perhaps the blankness of gaze which I have before noticed Outwardly their organization was perfect but in the fine inner mechanism was something wrong—something wanting She never had seen—never would see—in this world
BLIND The word was uttered softly hardly above a breath yet the mother heard it She pushed every one aside and took the child herself Herself with a desperate incredulity she looked into those eyes which never could look back either her agony or her love Poor mother
John John oh John—the name rising into a cry as if he could surely help her He came and took her in his arms—took both wife and babe She laid her head on his shoulder in bitter weeping Oh John it is so hard Our pretty one—our own little child
John did not speak but only held her to him—close and fast When she was a little calmer he whispered to her the comfort—the sole comfort even her husband could give her—through whose will it was that this affliction came
And it is more an affliction to you than it will be to her poor pet said Mrs Jessop as she wiped her friendly eyes She will not miss what she never knew She may be a happy little child Look how she lies and smiles
But the mother could not take that consolation yet She walked to and fro and stood rocking her baby mute indeed but with tears falling in showers Gradually her anguish wept itself away or was smothered down lest it should disturb the little creature asleep on her breast
Some one came behind her and placed her in the armchair gently It was my father He sat down by her taking her hand
Grieve not Ursula I had a little brother who was blind He was the happiest creature I ever knew
My father sighed We all marvelled to see the wonderful softness even tenderness which had come into him
Give me thy child for a minute Ursula laid it across his knees he put his hand solemnly on the babybreast God bless this little one Ay and she shall be blessed
These words spoken with as full assurance as the prophetic benediction of the departing patriarchs of old struck us all We looked at little Muriel as if the blessing were already upon her as if the mysterious touch which had scaled up her eyes for ever had left on her a sanctity like as of one who has been touched by the finger of God
Now children I must go home said my father
They did not detain us it was indeed best that the poor young parents should be left alone
You will come again soon begged Ursula tenderly clasping the hand which he had laid upon her curls as he rose with another murmured God bless thee
Perhaps We never know Be a good wife to thy husband my girl And John never be thou harsh to her nor too hard upon her little failings She is but young—but young
He sighed again It was plain to see he was thinking of another than Ursula
As we walked down the street he spoke to me only once or twice and then of things which startled me by their strangeness—things which had happened a long time ago sayings and doings of mine in my childhood which I had not the least idea he had either known of or remembered
When we got indoors I asked if I should come and sit with him till his bedtime
No—no thee looks tired and I have a business letter to write Better go to thy bed as usual
I bade him goodnight and was going when he called me back
How old art thee Phineas—twentyfour or five
Twentyfive father
Eh so much He put his hand on my shoulder and looked down on me kindly even tenderly Thee art but weakly still but thee must pick up and live to be as old a man as thy father Goodnight God be with thee my son
I left him I was happy Once I had never expected my old father and I would have got on together so well or loved one another so dearly
In the middle of the night Jael came into my room and sat down on my beds foot looking at me I had been dreaming strangely about my own childish days and about my father and mother when we were young
What Jael told me—by slow degrees and as tenderly as when she was my nurse years ago—seemed at first so unreal as to be like a part of the dream
At ten oclock when she had locked up the house she had come as usual to the parlour door to tell my father it was bedtime He did not answer being sitting with his back to the door apparently busy writing So she went away
Half an hour afterwards she came again He sat there still—he had not moved One hand supported his head the other the fingers stiffly holding the pen lay on the table He seemed intently gazing on what he had written It ran thus
GOOD FRIEND
Tomorrow I shall be—
But there the hand had stopped—for ever
O dear father on that tomorrow thou wert with God
CHAPTER XXII
It was the year 1812 I had lived for ten years as a brother in my adopted brothers house whither he had brought me on the day of my fathers funeral entreating that I should never leave it again For as was shortly afterwards made clear fate—say Providence—was now inevitably releasing him from a bond from which so long as my poor father lived John would never have released himself It was discovered that the profits of the tanning trade had long been merely nominal—that of necessity for the support of our two families the tanyard must be sold and the business confined entirely to the flourmill
At this crisis as if the change of all things broke her stout old heart which never could bend to any new ways—Jael died We laid her at my fathers and mothers feet—poor old Jael and that graveyard in St Marys Lane now covered over all who loved me all who were of my youth day—my very own
So thought I—or might have thought—but that John and Ursula then demanded with one voice Brother come home
I resisted long for it is one of my decided opinions that married people ought to have no one be the tie ever so close and dear living permanently with them to break the sacred duality—no let me say the unity of their home
I wished to try and work for my living if that were possible—if not that out of the wreck of my fathers trade might be found enough to keep me in some poor way But John Halifax would not hear of that And Ursula—she was sitting sewing while the little one lay on her lap cooing softly with shut eyes—Ursula took my hand to play with Muriels The baby fingers closed over mine—See there Phineas SHE wants you too So I stayed
Perhaps it was on this account that better than all his other children better than anything on earth except himself I loved Johns eldest daughter little blind Muriel
He had several children now The dark old house and the square town garden were alive with their voices from morning till night First and loudest always was Guy—born the year after Muriel He was very like his mother and her darling After him came two more Edwin and Walter But Muriel still remained as sister—the only sister either given or desired
If I could find a name to describe that child it would be not the one her happy mother gave her at her birth but one more sacred more tender She was better than Joy—she was an embodied Peace
Her motions were slow and tranquil—her voice soft—every expression of her little face extraordinarily serene Whether creeping about the house with a footfall silent as snow or sitting among us either knitting busily at her fathers knee or listening to his talk and the childrens play everywhere and always Muriel was the same No one ever saw her angry restless or sad The soft dark calm in which she lived seemed never broken by the troubles of this our troublous world
She was as I have said from her very babyhood a living peace And such she was to us all during those ten struggling years when our household had much to contend with much to endure If at night her father came home jaded and worn sickened to the soul by the hard battle he had to fight daily hourly with the outside world Muriel would come softly and creep into his bosom and he was comforted If busying herself about doing faithfully her portion too that the husband when he came in of evenings might find all cheerful and never know how heavy had been the household cares during the day—if at times Ursulas voice took too sharp a tone at sight of Muriel it softened at once No one could speak any but soft and sweet words when the blind child was by
Yet I think either parent would have looked amazed had any one pitied them for having a blind child The loss—a loss only to them and not to her the darling—became familiar and ceased to wound the blessedness was ever new Ay and she shall be blessed had said my dear father So she was From her or for her her parents never had to endure a single pain Even the sicknesses of infancy and childhood of which the three others had their natural share always passed her by as if in pity Nothing ever ailed Muriel
The spring of 1812 was an era long remembered in our family Scarlet fever went through the house—safely but leaving much care behind When at last they all came round and we were able to gather our pale little flock to a garden feast under the big old peartree it was with the trembling thankfulness of those who have gone through great perils hardly dared to be recognized as such till they were over
Ay thank God it is over said John as he put his arm round his wife and looked in her worn face where still her own smile lingered—her bright brave smile that nothing could ever drive away And now we must try and make a little holiday for you
Nonsense I am as well as possible Did not Dr Jessop tell me this morning I was looking younger than ever I—a mother of a family thirty years old Pray Uncle Phineas do I look my age
I could not say she did not—especially now But she wore it so gracefully so carelessly that I saw—ay and truly her husband saw—a sacred beauty about her jaded cheek more lovely and lovable than all the bloom of her youth Happy woman who was not afraid of growing old
Love—John usually called her Love—putting it at the beginning of a sentence as if it had been her natural Christian name—which as in all infant households had been gradually dropped or merged into the universal title of Mother My name for her was always emphatically The Mother—the truest type of motherhood I ever knew
Love her husband began again after a long look in her face—ah John thine was altered too but himself was the last thing he thought of—say what you like—I know what well do for the childrens sake Ah thats her weak point—see Phineas she is yielding now Well go for three months to Longfield
Now Longfield was the Utopia of our family old and young A very simple family we must have been—for this Longfield was only a small farmhouse about six miles off where once we had been to tea and where ever since we had longed to live For pretty as our domain had grown it was still in the middle of a town and the children like all naturallyreared children craved after the freedom of the country—after cornfields hayfields nuttings blackberryings—delights hitherto known only at rare intervals when their father could spare a whole long day and be at once the sun and the shield of the happy little band
Hearken children father says we shall go for three whole months to live at Longfield
The three boys set up a shout of ecstacy
Ill swim boats down the stream and catch and ride every one of the horses Hurrah shouted Guy
And Ill see after the ducks and chickens and watch all the threshing and winnowing said Edwin the practical and grave
And Ill get a ittle amb to pay wid me lisped Walter—still the baby—or considered such and petted accordingly
But what does my little daughter say said the father turning—as he always turned at the lightest touch of those soft blind fingers creeping along his coat sleeve What will Muriel do at Longfield
Muriel will sit all day and hear the birds sing
So she shall my blessing He often called her his blessing which in truth she was To see her now leaning her cheek against his—the small soft face almost a miniature of his own the hair a paler shade of the same bright colour curling in the same elastic rings—they looked less like ordinary father and daughter than like a man and his good angel the visible embodiment of the best half of his soul So she was ever to him this child of his youth—his firstborn and his dearest
The Longfield plan being once started father and mother and I began to consult together as to ways and means what should be given up and what increased of our absolute luxuries in order that the children might this summer—possibly every summer—have the glory of living in the country Of these domestic consultations there was never any dread for they were always held in public There were no secrets in our house Father and mother though sometimes holding different opinions had but one thought one aim—the family good Thus even in our lowest estate there had been no bitterness in our poverty we met it looked it in the face often even laughed at it For it bound us all together hand in hand it taught us endurance selfdependence and best of all lessons selfrenunciation I think ones whole afterlife is made easier and more blessed by having known what it was to be very poor when one was young
Our fortunes were rising now and any little pleasure did not take near so much contrivance We found we could manage the Longfield visit—ay and a horse for John to ride to and fro—without any worse sacrifice than that of leaving Jenny—now Mrs Jem Watkins but our cook still—in the house at Norton Bury and doing with one servant instead of two Also though this was not publicly known till afterwards by the mothers renouncing a longpromised silk dress—the only one since her marriage in which she had determined to astonish John by choosing the same colour as that identical grey gown he had seen hanging up in the kitchen at Enderley
But one would give up anything she said that the children might have such a treat and that father might have rides backwards and forwards through green lanes all summer Oh how I wish we could always live in the country
Do you And John looked—much as he had looked at longtailed grey ponies in his bridegroom days—longing to give her every thing she desired Well perhaps we may manage it some time
When our ship comes in—namely that money which Richard Brithwood will not pay and John Halifax will not go to law to make him Nay father dear I am not going to quarrel with any one of your crotchets She spoke with a fond pride as she did always even when arguing against the too Quixotic carrying out of the said crotchets Perhaps as the reward of forbearance the money will come some day when we least expect it then John shall have his hearts desire and start the clothmills at Enderley
John smiled halfsadly Every man has a hobby—this was his and had been for fifteen years Not merely the making a fortune as he still firmly believed it could be made but the position of useful power the wide range of influence the infinite opportunities of doing good
No love I shall never be patriarch of the valley as Phineas used to call it The yewhedge is too thick for me eh Phineas
No cried Ursula—we had told her this little incident of our boyhood—you have got half through it already Everybody in Norton Bury knows and respects you I am sure Phineas you might have heard a pin fall at the meeting last night when he spoke against hanging the Luddites And such a shout as rose when he ended—oh how proud I was
Of the shout love
Nonsense—but of the cause of it Proud to see my husband defending the poor and the oppressed—proud to see him honoured and looked up to more and more every year till—
Till it may come at last to the prophecy in your birthday verse—Her husband is known in the gates he sitteth among the elders of the land
Mrs Halifax laughed at me for reminding her of this but allowed that she would not dislike its being fulfilled
And it will be too He is already known in the gates known far and near Think how many of our neighbours come to John to settle their differences instead of going to law And how many poachers has he not persuaded out of their dishonest—
Illegal corrected John
Well their illegal ways and made decent respectable men of them Then see how he is consulted and his opinion followed by rich folk as well as poor folk all about the neighbourhood I am sure John is as popular and has as much influence as many a member of parliament
John smiled with an amused twitch about his mouth but he said nothing He rarely did say anything about himself—not even in his own household The glory of his life was its unconsciousness—like our own silent Severn however broad and grand its current might be that course seemed the natural channel into which it flowed
Theres Muriel said the father listening
Often thus the child slipped away and suddenly we heard all over the house the sweet sounds of Muriels voice as some one had called the old harpsichord When almost a baby she would feel her way to it and find out first harmonies then tunes with that quickness and delicacy of ear peculiar to the blind
How well she plays I wish I could buy her one of those new instruments they call pianofortes I was looking into the mechanism of one the other day
She would like an organ better You should have seen her face in the Abbey church this morning
Hark she has stopped playing Guy run and bring your sister here said the father ever yearning after his darling
Guy came back with a wonderful story of two gentlemen in the parlour one of whom had patted his head—Such a grand gentleman a great deal grander than father
That was true as regarded the bright nankeens the blue coat with gold buttons and the showiest of cambric kerchiefs swathing him up to the very chin To this grand personage John bowed formally but his wife flushed up in surprised recognition
It is so long since I had the happiness of meeting Miss March that I conclude Mrs Halifax has forgotten me
No Lord Luxmore allow me to introduce my husband
And I fancied some of Miss Marchs old hauteur returned to the mothers softened and matronly mien—pride but not for herself or in herself now For truly as the two men stood together—though Lord Luxmore had been handsome in his youth and was universally said to have as fine manners as the Prince Regent himself—any woman might well have held her head loftily introducing John Halifax as my husband
Of the two the nobleman was least at his ease for the welcome of both Mr and Mrs Halifax though courteous was decidedly cold They did not seem to feel—and if rumour spoke true I doubt if any honest virtuous middleclass fathers and mothers would have felt—that their house was greatly honoured or sanctified by the presence of the Earl of Luxmore
But the nobleman was as I have said wonderfully finemannered He broke the ice at once
Mr Halifax I have long wished to know you Mrs Halifax my daughter encouraged me to pay this impromptu visit
Here ensued polite inquiries after Lady Caroline Brithwood we learned that she was just returned from abroad and was entertaining at the Mythe House her father and brother
Pardon—I was forgetting my son—Lord Ravenel
The youth thus presented merely bowed He was about eighteen or so tall and spare with thin features and large soft eyes He soon retreated to the gardendoor where he stood watching the boys play and shyly attempting to make friends with Muriel
I believe Ravenel has seen you years ago Mrs Halifax His sister made a great pet of him as a child He has just completed his education—at the College of St Omer was it not William
The Catholic college of St Omer repeated the boy
Tut—what matters said the father sharply Mr Halifax do not imagine we are a Catholic family still I hope the next Earl of Luxmore will be able to take the oaths and his seat whether or no we get Emancipation By the by you uphold the Bill
John assented expressing his conviction then unhappily a rare one that every ones conscience is free and that all men of blameless life ought to be protected by and allowed to serve the state whatever be their religious opinions
Mr Halifax I entirely agree with you A wise man esteems all faiths alike worthless
Excuse me my lord that was the very last thing I meant to say I hold every mans faith so sacred that no other man has a right to interfere with it or to question it The matter lies solely between himself and his Maker
Exactly What facility of expression your husband has Mrs Halifax He must be—indeed I have heard he is—a firstrate public speaker
The wife smiled wifelike but John said hurriedly
I have no pretention or ambition of the kind I merely now and then try to put plain truths or what I believe to be such before the people in a form they are able to understand
Ay that is it My dear sir the people have no more brains than the head of my cane his Royal Highnesss gift Mrs Halifax they must be led or driven like a flock of sheep We—a lordly we—are their proper shepherds But then we want a middle class—at least an occasional voice from it a—
A shepherds dog to give tongue said John dryly In short a public orator In the House or out of it
Both And the earl tapped his boot with that royal cane smiling Yes I see you apprehend me But before we commence that somewhat delicate subject there was another on which I desired my agent Mr Brown to obtain your valuable opinion
You mean when yesterday he offered me by your lordships express desire the lease lately fallen in of your clothmills at Enderley
Now John had not told us that—why his manner too plainly showed
And all will be arranged I trust Brown says you have long wished to take the mills I shall be most happy to have you for a tenant
My lord as I told your agent it is impossible We will say no more about it
John crossed over to his wife with a cheerful air She sat looking grave and sad
Lord Luxmore had the reputation of being a keenwitted diplomatic personage undoubtedly he had or could assume that winning charm of manner which had descended in perfection to his daughter Both qualities it pleased him to exercise now He rose addressing with kindly frankness the husband and wife
If I may ask—being a most sincere wellwisher of yours and a sort of connection of Mrs Halifaxs too—why is it impossible
I have no wish to disguise the reason it is because I have no capital
Lord Luxmore looked surprised Surely—excuse me but I had the honour of being well acquainted with the late Mr March—surely your wifes fortune—
Ursula rose in her old impetuous way—His wifes fortune John let me say it—I will I must—of his wifes fortune Lord Luxmore he has never received one farthing Richard Brithwood keeps it back and my husband would work day and night for me and our children rather than go to law
Oh on principle I suppose I have heard of such opinions said the earl with the slightest perceptible sneer And you agree with him
I do heartily I would rather we lived poor all our days than that he should wear his life out trouble his spirit perhaps even soil his conscience by squabbling with a bad man over money matters
It was good to see Ursula as she spoke good to see the look that husband and his wife interchanged—husband and wife different in many points yet so blessedly so safely ONE Then John said in his quiet way
Love perhaps another subject than our own affairs would be more interesting to Lord Luxmore
Not at all—not at all And the earl was evidently puzzled and annoyed Such extraordinary conduct he muttered so very—ahem—unwise If the matter were known—caught up by those newspapers—I must really have a little conversation with Brithwood
The conversation paused and John changed it entirely by making some remarks on the present minister Mr Perceval
I liked his last speech much He seems a clearheaded honest man for all his dogged opposition to the Bill
He will never oppose it more
Nay I think he will my lord—to the death
That may be—and yet— his lordship smiled Mr Halifax I have just had news by a carrier pigeon—my birds fly well—most important news for us and our party Yesterday in the lobby of the House of Commons Mr Perceval was shot
We all started An hour ago we had been reading his speech Mr Perceval shot
Oh John cried the mother her eyes full of tears his poor wife—his fatherless children
And for many minutes they stood hearing the lamentable history and looking at their little ones at play in the garden thinking as many an English father and mother did that day of the stately house in London where the widow and orphans bewailed their dead He might or might not be a great statesman but he was undoubtedly a good man many still remember the shock of his untimely death and how whether or not they liked him living all the honest hearts of England mourned for Mr Perceval
Possibly that number did not include the Earl of Luxmore
Requiescat in pace I shall propose the canonization of poor Bellingham For now Perceval is dead there will be an immediate election and on that election depends Catholic Emancipation Mr Halifax turning quickly round to him you would be of great use to us in parliament
Should I
Will you—I like plain speaking—will you enter it
Enter parliament John Halifax in parliament His wife and I were both astounded by the suddenness of the possibility which however John himself seemed to receive as no novel idea
Lord Luxmore continued I assure you nothing is more easy I can bring you in at once for a borough near here—my family borough
Which you wish to be held by some convenient person till Lord Ravenel comes of age So Mr Brown informed me yesterday
Lord Luxmore slightly frowned Such transactions as common then in the service of the country as they still are in the service of the Church were yet generally glossed over as if a certain discredit attached to them The young lord seemed to feel it at sound of his name he turned round to listen and turned back again blushing scarlet Not so the earl his father
Brown is—may I offer you a pinch Mr Halifax—what not the Prince Regents own mixture—is indeed a worthy fellow but too hasty in his conclusions As it happens my son is yet undecided between the Church—that is the priesthood and politics But to our conversation—Mrs Halifax may I not enlist you on my side We could easily remove all difficulties such as qualification etc Would you not like to see your husband member for the old and honourable borough of Kingswell
Kingswell It was a tumbledown village where John held and managed for me the sole remnant of landed property which my poor father had left me Kingswell why there are not a dozen houses in the place
The fewer the better my dear madam The election would cost me scarcely any—trouble and the country be vastly the gainer by your husbands talents and probity Of course he will give up the—I forget what is his business now—and live independent He is made to shine as a politician it will be both happiness and honour to myself to have in some way contributed to that end Mr Halifax you will accept my borough
Not on any consideration your lordship could offer me
Lord Luxmore scarcely credited his ears My dear sir—you are the most extraordinary—may I again inquire your reasons
I have several one will suffice Though I wish to gain influence—power perhaps still the last thing I should desire would be political influence
You might possibly escape that unwelcome possession returned the earl Half the House of Commons is made up of harmless dummies who vote as we bid them
A character my lord for which I am decidedly unfitted Until political conscience ceases to be a thing of traffic until the people are allowed honestly to choose their own honest representatives I must decline being of that number Shall we dismiss the subject
With pleasure sir
And courtesy being met by courtesy the question so momentous was passed over and merged into trivialities Perhaps the earl who as his pleasures palled was understood to be fixing his keen wits upon the pet profligacy of old age politics—saw clearly enough that in these chaotic days of contending parties when the maddened outcry of the people was just being heard and listened to it might be as well not to make an enemy of this young man who with a few more stood as it were midway in the gulf now slowly beginning to narrow between the commonalty and the aristocracy He stayed some time longer and then bowed himself away with a gracious condescension worthy of the Prince of Wales himself carrying with him the shy gentle Lord Ravenel who had spoken scarcely six words the whole time
When he was gone the father and mother seemed both relieved
Truly John he has gained little by his visit and I hope it may be long before we see an earl in our quiet house again Come in to dinner my children
But his lordship had left an uncomfortable impression behind him It lasted even until that quiet hour—often the quietest and happiest of our day—when the children being all in bed we elders closed in round the fire
Ursula and I sat there longer alone than usual
John is late tonight she said more than once and I could see her start listening to every foot under the window every touch at the doorbell not stirring though she knew his foot and his ring quite well always
There he is we both said at once—much relieved and John came in
Brightness always came in with him Whatever cares he had without—and they were heavy enough God knows—they always seemed to slip off the moment he entered his own door and whatever slight cares we had at home we put them aside as they could not but be put aside nay forgotten—at the sight of him
Well Uncle Phineas Children all right my darling A fire Im glad of it Truly tonight is as cold as November
John if you have a weakness it is for fire Youre a regular salamander
He laughed—warming his hands at the blaze Yes I would rather be hungry than cold any day Love our one extravagance is certainly coals A grand fire this I do like it so
She called him foolish but smoothed down with a quiet kiss the forehead he lifted up to her as she stood beside him looking as if she would any day have converted the whole house into fuel for his own private and particular benefit
Little ones all in bed of course
Indeed they would have lain awake half the night—those naughty boys—talking of Longfield You never saw children so delighted
Are they I thought the tone was rather sad and that the father sat listening with less interest than usual to the pleasant little household chronicle always wonderful and always new which it was his custom to ask for and have night after night when he came home—saying it was to him after his days toil like a babbling o green fields Soon it stopped
John dear you are very tired
Rather
Have you been very busy all day
Very busy
I understood almost as well as his wife did what those brief answers indicated so stealing away to the table where Guys blurred copybook and Edwins astonishing addition sums were greatly in need of Uncle Phineas I left the fireside corner to those two Soon John settled himself in my easy chair and then one saw how very weary he was—weary in body and soul alike—weary as we seldom beheld him It went to my heart to watch the listless stretch of his large strong frame—the sharp lines about his mouth—lines which ought not to have come there in his twoandthirty years And his eyes—they hardly looked like Johns eyes as they gazed in a sort of dull quietude too anxious to be dreamy into the red coals—and nowhere else
At last he roused himself and took up his wifes work
More little coats Love you are always sewing
Mothers must—you know And I think never did boys outgrow their things like our boys It is pleasant too If only clothes did not wear out so fast
Ah A sigh—from the very depths of the fathers heart
Not a bit too fast for my clever fingers though said Ursula quickly Look John at this lovely braiding But Im not going to do any more of it I shall certainly have no time to waste over fineries at Longfield
Her husband took up the fanciful work admired it and laid it down again After a pause he said
Should you be very much disappointed if—if we do not go to Longfield after all
Not go to Longfield The involuntary exclamation showed how deep her longing had been
Because I am afraid—it is hard I know—but I am afraid we cannot manage it Are you very sorry
Yes she said frankly and truthfully Not so much for myself but—the children
Ay the poor children
Ursula stitched away rapidly for some moments till the grieved look faded out of her face then she turned it all cheerful once more to her husband Now John tell me Never mind about the children Tell me
He told her as was his habit at all times of some losses which had today befallen him—bad debts in his business—which would make it if not impracticable at least imprudent to enter on any new expenses that year Nay he must if possible retrench a little Ursula listened without question comment or complaint
Is that all she said at last very gently
All
Then never mind I do not We will find some other pleasures for the children We have so many pleasures ay all of us Husband it is not so hard to give up this one
He said in a whisper low almost as a lovers I could give up anything in the world but them and thee
So with a brief information to me at suppertime—Uncle Phineas did you hear we cannot go to Longfield—the renunciation was made and the subject ended For this year at least our Arcadian dream was over
But Johns troubled looks did not pass away It seemed as if this night his long toil had come to that crisis when the strongest man breaks down—or trembles within a hairs breadth of breaking down conscious too horribly conscious that if so himself will be the least part of the universal ruin His face was haggard his movements irritable and restless he started nervously at every sound Sometimes even a hasty word an uneasiness about trifles showed how strong was the effort he made at selfcontrol Ursula usually by far the most quicktempered of the two became tonight mild and patient She neither watched nor questioned him—wise woman as she was she only sat still busying herself over her work speaking now and then of little things lest he should notice her anxiety about him He did at last
Nay I am not ill do not be afraid Only my head aches so—let me lay it here as the children do
His wife made a place for it on her shoulder there it rested—the poor tired head until gradually the hard and painful expression of the features relaxed and it became Johns own natural face—as quiet as any of the little faces on their pillows upstairs whence doubtless slumber had long banished all anticipation of Longfield At last he too fell asleep
Ursula held up her finger that I might not stir The clock in the corner and the soft sobbing of the flame on the hearth were the only sounds in the parlour She sewed on quietly to the end of her work then let it drop on her lap and sat still Her cheek leaned itself softly against Johns hair and in her eyes which seemed so intently contemplating the little frock I saw large bright tears gather—fall But her look was serene nay happy as if she thought of these beloved ones husband and children—her very own—preserved to her in health and peace—ay and in that which is better than either the unity of love For that priceless blessing for the comfort of being HIS comfort for the sweetness of bringing up these his children in the fear of God and in the honour of their father—she true wife and mother as she was would not have exchanged the wealth of the whole world
Whats that We all started as a sudden ring at the bell pealed through the house waking John and frightening the very children in their beds All for a mere letter too brought by a lacquey of Lord Luxmores Having—somewhat indignantly—ascertained this fact the mother ran upstairs to quiet her little ones When she came down John still stood with the letter in his hand He had not told me what it was when I chanced to ask he answered in a low tone—Presently On his wifes entrance he gave her the letter without a word
Well might it startle her into a cry of joy Truly the dealings of heaven to us were wonderful
Mr John Halifax
SIR
Your wife Ursula Halifax having some time since attained the age fixed by her late father as her majority I will within a month after date pay over to your order all moneys principal and interest accruing to her and hitherto left in my hands as trustee according to the will of the late Henry March Esquire
I am sir
Yours etc
RICHARD BRITHWOOD
Wonderful—wonderful
It was all I could say That one bad man for his own purposes should influence another bad man to an act of justice—and that their double evil should be made to work out our good Also that this should come just in our time of need—when Johns strength seemed ready to fail
Oh John—John now you need not work so hard
That was his wifes first cry as she clung to him almost in tears
He too was a good deal agitated This sudden lifting of the burthen made him feel how heavy it had been—how terrible the responsibility—how sickening the fear
Thank God In any case you are quite safe now—you and the children
He sat down very pale His wife knelt beside him and put her arms around his neck—I quietly went out of the room
When I came in again they were standing by the fireside—both cheerful as two people to whom had happened such unexpected good fortune might naturally be expected to appear I offered my congratulations in rather a comical vein than otherwise we all of us had caught Johns habit of putting things in a comic light whenever he felt them keenly
Yes he is a rich man now—mind you treat your brother with extra respect Phineas
And your sister too
For she sall walk in silk attire
And siller hae to spare
Shes quite young and handsome still—isnt she How magnificent shell look in that grey silk gown
John you ought to be ashamed of yourself you—the father of a family you—that are to be the largest millowner at Enderley—
He looked at her fondly half deprecatingly Not till I have made you and the children all safe—as I said
We are safe—quite safe—when we have you Oh Phineas make him see it as I do Make him understand that it will be the happiest day in his wifes life when she knows him happy in his hearts desire
We sat a little while longer talking over the strange change in our fortunes—for they wished to make me feel that now as ever what was theirs was mine then Ursula took her candle to depart
Love John cried calling her back as she shut the door and watching her stand there patient—watching with something of the old mischievous twinkle in his eyes Mrs Halifax when shall I have the honour of ordering your longtailed grey ponies
CHAPTER XXIII
Not many weeks afterwards we went to live at Longfield which henceforth became the family home for many years
Longfield happy Longfield little nest of love and joy and peace—where the children grew up and we grew old—where season after season brought some new change ripening in us and around us—where summer and winter day and night the hand of Gods providence was over our roof blessing our goings out and our comings in our basket and our store crowning us with the richest blessing of all that we were made a household where brethren dwelt together in unity Beloved Longfield my heart slow pulsing as befits one near the grave thrills warm and young as I remember thee
Yet how shall I describe it—the familiar spot so familiar that it seems to need no description at all
It was but a small place when we first came there It led out of the highroad by a fieldgate—the White Gate from which a narrow path wound down to a stream thence up a green slope to the house a mere farmhouse nothing more It had one parlour three decent bedrooms kitchen and outhouses we built extempore chambers out of the barn and cheeseroom In one of these the boys Guy and Edwin slept against the low roof of which the father generally knocked his head every morning when he came to call the lads Its windows were open all summer round and birds and bats used oftentimes to fly in to the great delight of the youthful inmates
Another infinite pleasure to the little folk was that for the first year the farmhouse kitchen was made our diningroom There through the open door Edwins pigeons Muriels two doves and sometimes a stately hen walked in and out at pleasure Whether our live stock brought up in the law of kindness were as welltrained and wellbehaved as our children I cannot tell but certain it is that we never found any harm from this system necessitated by our early straits at Longfield—this liberty fraternity and equality
Those words in themselves true and lovely but wrested to false meaning whose fatal sound was now dying out of Europe merged in the equally false and fatal shout of Gloire gloire remind me of an event which I believe was the first that broke the delicious monotony of our new life
It was one September morning Mrs Halifax the children and I were down at the stream planning a bridge across it and a sort of stable where Johns horse might be put up—the mother had steadily resisted the longtailed grey ponies For with all the necessary improvements at Longfield with the large settlement that John insisted upon making on his wife and children before he would use in his business any portion of her fortune we found we were by no means so rich as to make any great change in our way of life advisable And after all the mothers best luxuries were to see her children merry and strong her husbands face lightened of its care and to know he was now placed beyond doubt in the position he had always longed for for was he not this very day gone to sign the lease of Enderley Mills
Mrs Halifax had just looked at her watch and she and I were wondering with quite a childish pleasure whether he were not now signing the important deed when Guy came running to say a coachandfour was trying to enter the White Gate
Who can it be—But they must be stopped or theyll spoil Johns new gravel road that he takes such pride in Uncle Phineas would you mind going to see
Who should I see but almost the last person I expected—who had not been beheld hardly spoken of in our household these ten years—Lady Caroline Brithwood in her travellinghabit of green cloth her velvet ridinghat with its Prince of Wales feathers gayer than ever—though her pretty face was withering under the paint and her lively manner growing coarse and bold
Is this Longfield—Does Mr Halifax—mon Dieu Mr Fletcher is that you
She held out her hand with the frankest condescension and in the brightest humour in the world She insisted on sending on the carriage and accompanying me down to the stream for a surprise—a scene
Mrs Halifax seeing the coach drive on had evidently forgotten all about it She stood in the little dell which the stream had made Walter in her arms—her figure thrown back so as to poise the childs weight Her right hand kept firm hold of Guy who was paddling barefoot in the stream Edwin the only one of the boys who never gave any trouble was soberly digging away beside little Muriel
The lady clapped her hands Brava bravissima a charming family picture Mrs Halifax
Lady Caroline
Ursula left her children and came to greet her old acquaintance whom she had never once seen since she was Ursula Halifax Perhaps that fact touched her and it was with a kind of involuntary tenderness that she looked into the sickly face where all the smiles could not hide the wrinkles
It is many years since we met and we are both somewhat altered Cousin Caroline
You are with those three great boys The little girl yours also—Oh yes I remember William told me—poor little thing And with uneasy awe she turned from our blind Muriel our child of peace
Will you come up to the house my husband has only ridden over to Enderley he will be home soon
And glad to see me I wonder For I am rather afraid of that husband of yours—eh Ursula Yet I should greatly like to stay
Ursula laughed and repeated the welcome She was so happy herself—she longed to distribute her happiness They walked the children following towards the house
Under the great walnuttree by the sunk fence which guarded the flowergarden from the sheep and cows Mrs Halifax stopped and pointed down the green slope of the field across the valley to the wooded hills opposite
Isnt it a pretty view said Guy creeping up and touching the strangers gown our children had lived too much in an atmosphere of love to know either shyness or fear
Very pretty my little friend
Thats Onetree Hill Father is going to take us all a walk there this afternoon
Do you like going walks with your father
Oh dont we An electric smile ran through the whole circle It told enough of the blessed hometale
Lady Caroline laughed a sharp laugh Eh my dear I see how things are You dont regret having married John Halifax the tanner
Regret
Nay be not impetuous I always said he was a noble fellow—so does the earl now And William—you cant think what a hero your husband is to William
Lord Ravenel
Ay my little brother that was—growing a young man now—a frightful bigot wanting to make our house as Catholic as when two or three of us lost our heads for King James But he is a good boy—poor William I had rather not talk about him
Ursula inquired courteously if her Cousin Richard were well
Bah—I suppose he is he is always well His late astonishing honesty to Mr Halifax cost him a fit of gout—mais nimporte If they meet I suppose all things will be smooth between them
My husband never had any illfeeling to Mr Brithwood
I should not bear him an undying enmity if he had But you see tis election time and the earl wishes to put in a gentleman a friend of ours for Kingswell Mr Halifax owns some cottages there eh
Mr Fletcher does My husband transacts business—
Stop stop cried Lady Caroline I dont understand business I only know that they want your husband to be friendly with mine Is this plain enough
Certainly be under no apprehension Mr Halifax never bears malice against any one Was this the reason of your visit Lady Caroline
Eh—mon Dieu what would become of us if we were all as straightforward as you Mistress Ursula But it sounds charming—in the country No my dear I came—nay I hardly know why Probably because I liked to come—my usual reason for most actions Is that your salleamanger Wont you ask me to dinner ma cousine
Of course the mother said though I fancied afterwards the invitation rather weighed upon her mind probably from the doubt whether or no John would like it But in little things as in great she had always this safe trust in him—that conscientiously to do what she felt to be right was the surest way to be right in her husbands eyes
So Lady Caroline was our guest for the day—a novel guest—but she made herself at once familiar and pleasant Guy a little gentleman from his cradle installed himself her admiring knight attendant everywhere Edwin brought her to see his pigeons Walter with sweet shy blushes offered her a ittle fower and the three as the greatest of all favours insisted on escorting her to pay a visit to the beautiful calf not a week old
Laughing she followed the boys telling them how lately in Sicily she had been presented to a weekold prince son of Louis Philippe the young Duke of Orleans and the Princess MarieAmelie And truly children he was not half so pretty as your little calf Ursula I am sick of courts sometimes I would turn shepherdess myself if we could find a tolerable Arcadia
Is there any Arcadia like home
Home—Her face expressed the utmost loathing fear and scorn I remembered hearing that the Squire since his return from abroad had grown just like his father was drunk every day and all day long Is your husband altered Ursula He must be quite a young man still Oh what it is to be young
John looks much older people say but I dont see it
Arcadia again Can such things be especially in England that paradise of husbands where the first husband in the realm sets such an illustrious example How do you stayathome British matrons feel towards my friend the Princess of Wales
God help her and make her as good a woman as she is a wronged and miserable wife said Ursula sadly
Query Can a good woman be made out of a wronged and miserable wife If so Mrs Halifax you should certainly take out a patent for the manufacture
The subject touched too near home Ursula wisely avoided it by inquiring if Lady Caroline meant to remain in England
Cela depend She turned suddenly grave Your fresh air makes me feel weary Shall we go indoors
Dinner was ready laid out—a plain meal since neither the father nor any of us cared for table dainties but I think if we had lived in a hut and fed off wooden platters on potatoes and salt our repast would have been fair and orderly and our hut the neatest that a hut could be For the mother of the family had in perfection almost the best genius a woman can have—the genius of tidiness
We were not in the least ashamed of our simple dinnertable where no difference was ever made for anybody We had little plate but plenty of snowwhite napery and pretty china and what with the scents of the flowergarden on one side and the green waving of the elmtree on the other it was as good as dining outofdoors
The boys were still gathered round Lady Caroline in the little closet off the diningroom where lessons were learnt Muriel sat as usual on the doorsill petting one of her doves that used to come and perch on her head and her shoulder of their own accord when I heard the child say to herself
Fathers coming
Where darling
Up the farmyard way There—he is on the gravelwalk He has stopped I dare say it is to pull some of the jessamine that grows over the well Now fly away dove Fathers here
And the next minute a general shout echoed Fathers here
He stood in the doorway lifting one after the other up in his arms having a kiss and a merry word for all—this good father
O solemn name which Deity Himself claims and owns Happy these children who in its fullest sense could understand the word father to whom from the dawn of their little lives their father was what all fathers should be—the truest representative here on earth of that Father in heaven who is at once justice wisdom and perfect love
Happy too—most blessed among women—the woman who gave her children such a father
Ursula came—for his eye was wandering in search of her—and received the embrace without which he never left her or returned
All rightly settled John
Quite settled
I am so glad With a second kiss not often bestowed in public as congratulation He was going to tell more when Ursula said rather hesitatingly We have a visitor today
Lady Caroline came out of her corner laughing You did not expect me I see Am I welcome
Any welcome that Mrs Halifax has given is also mine
But Johns manner though polite was somewhat constrained and he felt as it seemed to my observant eye more surprise than gratification in this incursion on his quiet home Also I noticed that when Lady Caroline in the height of her condescension would have Muriel close to her at dinner he involuntarily drew his little daughter to her accustomed place beside himself
She always sits here thank you
The tabletalk was chiefly between the lady and her host she rarely talked to women when a man was to be had Conversation veered between the Emperor Napoleon and Lord Wellington Lord William Bentinck and Sardinian policy the conjugal squabbles of Carlton House and the oneabsorbing political question of this year—Catholic emancipation
You are a staunch supporter of the Bill my father says Of course you aid him in the Kingswell election tomorrow
I can scarcely call it an election returned John He had been commenting on it to us that morning rather severely An election it was merely a talk in the Kings Head parlour a nomination and show of hands by some dozen poor labourers tenants of Mr Brithwood and Lord Luxmore who got a few pounds apiece for their services—and the thing was done
Who is the nominee Lady Caroline
A young gentleman of small fortune but excellent parts who returned with us from Naples
The ladys manner being rather more formal than she generally used John looked up quickly
The election being tomorrow of course his name is no secret
Oh no Vermilye Mr Gerard Vermilye Do you know him
I have heard of him
As he spoke—either intentionally or no—John looked full at Lady Caroline She dropped her eyes and began playing with her bracelets Both immediately quitted the subject of Kingswell election
Soon after we rose from table and Guy who had all dinnertime fixed his admiring gaze upon the pretty lady insisted on taking her down the garden and gathering for her a magnificent arum lily the mothers favourite lily I suggested gaining permission first and was sent to ask the question
I found John and his wife in serious even painful conversation
Love he was saying I have known it for very long but if she had not come here I would never have grieved you by telling it
Perhaps it is not true said Ursula warmly The world is ready enough to invent cruel falsehoods about us women
Us women Dont say that Ursula I will not have my wife named in the same breath with HER
John
I will not I say You dont know what it cost me even to see her touch your hand
John
The soft tone recalled him to his better self
Forgive me but I would not have the least taint come near this wife of mine I could not bear to think of her holding intercourse with a light woman—a woman false to her husband
I do not believe it Caroline was foolish she was never wicked Listen—If this were true how could she be laughing with our children now Oh John—think—she has no children
The deep pity passed from Ursulas heart to her husbands John clasped fondly the two hands that were laid on his shoulders as looking up in his face the happy wife pleaded silently for one whom all the world knew was so wronged and so unhappy
We will wait a little before we judge Love you are a better Christian than I
All afternoon they both showed more than courtesy—kindness to this woman at whom as any one out of our retired household would have known and as John did know well—all the world was already pointing the finger on account of Mr Gerard Vermilye She on her part with her chameleon power of seizing and sunning herself in the delight of the moment was in a state of the highest enjoyment She turned shepherdess fed the poultry with Edwin pulled off her jewelled ornaments and gave them to Walter for playthings nay she even washed off her rouge at the spring and came in with faint natural roses upon her faded cheeks So happy she seemed so innocently childishly happy that more than once I saw John and Ursula exchange satisfied looks rejoicing that they had followed after the divine charity which thinketh no evil
After tea we all turned out as was our wont on summer evenings the children playing about while the father and mother strolled up and down the sloping fieldpath arm in arm like lovers or sometimes he fondly leaning upon her Thus they would walk and talk together in the twilight for hours
Lady Caroline pointed to them Look Adam and Eve modernized Baucis and Philemon when they were young Bon Dieu what it is to be young
She said this in a gasp as if wild with terror of the days that were coming upon her—the dark days
People are always young I answered who love one another as these do
Love what an oldfashioned word I hate it It is so—what would you say in English—so dechirant I would not cultivate une grande passion for the world
I smiled at the idea of the bond between Mr and Mrs Halifax taking the Frenchified character of une grande passion
But homelove married love love among children and at the fireside—you believe in that
She turned upon me her beautiful eyes they had a scared look like a birds driven right into the fowlers net
Cest impossible—impossible
The word hissed itself out between her shut teeth—impossible Then she walked quickly on and was her lively self once more
When the evening closed and the younger children were gone to bed she became rather restless about the nonappearance of her coach At last a lacquey arrived on foot She angrily inquired why a carriage had not been sent for her
Master didnt give orders my lady answered the man somewhat rudely
Lady Caroline turned pale—with anger or fear—perhaps both
You have not properly answered your mistresss question said Mr Halifax
Master says sir—begging my ladys pardon for repeating it—but he says My lady went out against his will and she may come home when and how she likes
My lady burst out laughing and laughed violently and long
Tell him I will Be sure you tell him I will It is the last and the easiest obedience
John sent the lacquey out of the room and Ursula said something about not speaking thus before a servant
Before a servant Why my dear we furnish entertainment for our whole establishment my husband and I We are at the Mythe what the Prince Regent and the Princess of Wales are to the country at large We divide our people between us I fascinate—he bribes Ha ha Well done Richard Brithwood I may come home when and how I like Truly Ill use that kind permission
Her eyes glittered with an evil fire her cheeks were hot and red
Mrs Halifax I shall be thrown on your hospitality for an hour or two longer Could you send a letter for me
To your husband Certainly
My husband—Never—Yes to MY HUSBAND The first part of the sentence was full of fierce contempt the latter smothered and slowly desperate Tell me Ursula what constitutes a man ones husband Brutality tyranny—the tyranny which the law sanctions Or kindness sympathy devotion everything that makes life beautiful—everything that constitutes happiness and—
Sin
The word in her ear was so low that she started as if conscience only had uttered it—conscience to whom only her intents were known
John came forward speaking gravely but not unkindly
Lady Caroline I am deeply grieved that this should have happened in my house and through your visiting us against your husbands will
His will
Pardon me but I think a wife is bound to the very last to obey in all things not absolutely wrong her husbands will I am glad you thought of writing to Mr Brithwood
She shook her head in mocking denial
May I ask then—since I am to have the honour of sending it—to whom is this letter
To— I think she would have told a falsehood if Johns eyes had not been so keenly fixed upon her To—a friend
Friends are at all times dangerous to a lady who—
Hates her husband—ha ha Especially male friends
Especially male friends
Here Guy who had lingered out of his little bed most unlawfully—hovering about ready to do any chivalrous duty to his idol of the day—came up to bid her goodnight and held up his rosy mouth eagerly
I—kiss a little child I—and from her violent laughter she burst into a passion of tears
The mother signed me to carry Guy away she and John took Lady Caroline into the parlour and shut the door
Of course I did not then learn what passed—but I did afterwards
Lady Carolines tears were evanescent like all her emotions Soon she became composed—asked again for writing materials—then countermanded the request
No I will wait till tomorrow Ursula you will take me in for the night
Mrs Halifax looked appealingly to her husband but he gave no assent
Lady Caroline you should willingly stay were it not as you must know so fatal a step In your position you should be most careful to leave the world and your husband no single handle against you
Mr Halifax what right have you—
None save that of an honest man who sees a woman cruelly wronged and desperate with her wrong who would thankfully save her if he could
Save me From what—or whom
From Mr Gerard Vermilye who is now waiting down the road and whom if Lady Caroline Brithwood once flies to or even sees at this crisis she loses her place among honourable English matrons for ever
John said this with no air of virtuous anger or contempt but as the simple statement of a fact The convicted woman dropped her face between her hands
Ursula greatly shocked was some time before she spoke
Is it true Caroline
What is true
That which my husband has heard of you
Yes she cried springing up and dashing back her beautiful hair—beautiful still though she must have been five or six and thirty at least—Yes it is true—it shall be true I will break my bonds and live the life I was made for I would have done it long ago but for—no matter Why Ursula he adores me young and handsome as he is he adores me He will give me my youth back again ay he will
And she sang out a French chanson something about la liberte et ses plaisirs la jeunesse lamour
The mother grew sterner—any such wife and mother would Then and there compassion might have died out of even her good heart had it not been for the sudden noise overhead of childrens feet—childrens chattering Once more the pitiful thought came—She has no children
Caroline she said catching her gown as she passed when I was with you you had a child which only breathed and died It died spotless When you die how dare you meet that little baby
The singing changed to sobbing I had forgotten My little baby Oh mon Dieu mon Dieu
Mrs Halifax taking in earnest those meaningless French ejaculations whispered something about Him who alone can comfort and help us all
Him I never knew Him if indeed He be No no there is no afterlife
Ursula turned away in horror John what shall we do with her No home—no husband—no God
He never leaves Himself without a witness Look love
The wretched woman sat rocking to and fro—weeping and wringing her hands It was cruel—cruel You should not have spoken about my baby Now—
Tell me—just one word—I will not believe anybodys word except your own Caroline are you—still innocent
Lady Caroline shrank from her touch Dont hold me so You may have one standard of virtue I another
Still tell me
And if I did you an honourable English matron—was not that your husbands word—would turn from me most likely
She will not John said She has been happy and you most miserable
Oh most miserable
That bitter groan went to both their hearts Ursula leaned over her—herself almost in tears Cousin Caroline John says true—I will not turn from you I know you have been sinned against—cruelly—cruelly Only tell me that you yourself have not sinned
I HAVE sinned as you call it
Ursula started—drew closer to her husband Neither spoke
Mrs Halifax why dont you take away your hand
I—let me think This is terrible Oh John
Again Lady Caroline said in her sharp bold tone Take away your hand
Husband shall I
No
For some minutes they stood together both silent with this poor woman I call her poor as did they knowing that if a sufferer needs pity how tenfold more does a sinner
John spoke first Cousin Caroline She lifted up her head in amazement We are your cousins and we wish to be your friends my wife and I Will you listen to us
She sobbed still but less violently
Only first—you must promise to renounce for ever guilt and disgrace
I feel it none He is an honourable gentleman—he loves me and I love him That is the true marriage No I will make you no such promise Let me go
Pardon me—not yet I cannot suffer my wifes kinswoman to elope from my own house without trying to prevent it
Prevent—sir—Mr Halifax You forget who you are and who I am—the daughter of the Earl of Luxmore
Were you the Kings daughter it would make no difference I will save you in spite of yourself if I can I have already spoken to Mr Vermilye and he has gone away
Gone away the only living soul that loves me Gone away I must follow him—quick—quick
You cannot He is miles distant by this time He is afraid lest this story should come out tomorrow at Kingswell and to be an MP and safe from arrest is better to Mr Vermilye than even yourself Lady Caroline
Johns wife unaccustomed to hear him take that cool worldly halfsarcastic tone turned to him somewhat reproachfully but he judged best For the moment this tone had more weight with the woman of the world than any homilies She began to be afraid of Mr Halifax Impulse rather than resolution guided her and even these impulses were feeble and easily governed She sat down again muttering
My will is free You cannot control me
Only so far as my conscience justifies me in preventing a crime
A crime
It would be such No sophistries of French philosophy on your part no cruelty on your husbands can abrogate the one law which if you disown it as Gods is still mans—being necessary for the peace honour and safety of society
What law
THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY
People do not often utter this plain Bible word It made Ursula start even when spoken solemnly by her own husband It tore from the selfconvicted woman all the sentimental disguises with which the world then hid and still hides its corruptions Her sin arose and stared her blackly in the face—AS SIN She cowered before it
Am I—THAT And William will know it Poor William She looked up at Ursula—for the first time with the guilty look hitherto it had been only one of pain or despair Nobody knows it except you Dont tell William I would have gone long ago but for him He is a good boy—dont let him guess his sister was—
She left the word unspoken Shame seemed to crush her down to the earth shame the precursor of saving penitence—at least John thought so He quitted the room leaving her to the ministry of his other self his wife As he sat down with me and told me in a few words what indeed I had already more than half guessed I could not but notice the expression of his own face And I recognized how a man can be at once righteous to judge tender to pity and strong to save a man the principle of whose life is as Johns was—that it should be made conformable to the image of Him who was Himself on earth the image of God
Ursula came out and called her husband They talked some time together I guessed from what I heard that she wished Lady Caroline to stay the night here but that he with better judgment was urging the necessity of her returning to the protection of her husbands home without an hours delay
It is her only chance of saving her reputation She must do it Tell her so Ursula
After a few minutes Mrs Halifax came out again
I have persuaded her at last She says she will do whatever you think best Only before she goes she wants to look at the children May she
Poor soul—yes John murmured turning away
Stepping out of sight we saw the poor lady pass through the quiet empty house into the childrens bedroom We heard her smothered sob at times the whole way
Then I went down to the stream and helped John to saddle his horse with Mrs Halifaxs old saddle—in her girlish days Ursula used to be very fond of riding
She can ride back again from the Mythe said John She wishes to go and it is best she should so that nothing need be said except that Lady Caroline spent a day at Longfield and that my wife and I accompanied her safe home
While he spoke the two ladies came down the fieldpath I fancied I heard even now a faint echo of that peculiarly sweet and careless laugh indicating how light were all impressions on a temperament so plastic and weak—so easily remoulded by the very next influence that fate might throw across her perilous way
John Halifax assisted her on horseback took the bridle under one arm and gave the other to his wife Thus they passed up the path and out at the White Gate
I delayed a little while listening to the wind and to the prattle of the stream that went singing along in daylight or in darkness by our happy home at Longfield And I sighed to myself Poor Lady Caroline
CHAPTER XXIV
Midnight though it was I sat up until John and his wife came home They said scarcely anything but straightway retired In the morning all went on in the house as usual and no one ever knew of this nights episode except us three
In the morning Guy looked wistfully around him asking for the pretty lady and being told that she was gone and that he would not be likely to see her again seemed disappointed for a minute but soon he went down to play at the stream and forgot all
Once or twice I fancied the mothers clear voice about the house was rarer than its wont that her quick active cheerful presence—penetrating every nook and visiting every creature as with the freshness of an April wind—was this day softer and sadder but she did not say anything to me nor I to her
John had ridden off early—to the flourmill which he still kept on together with the house at Norton Bury—he always disliked giving up any old associations At dinnertime he came home saying he was going out again immediately
Ursula looked uneasy A few minutes after she followed me under the walnuttree where I was sitting with Muriel and asked me if I would go with John to Kingswell
The election takes place today and he thinks it right to be there He will meet Mr Brithwood and Lord Luxmore and though there is not the slightest need—my husband can do all that he has to do alone—still for my own satisfaction I would like his brother to be near him
They invariably called me their brother now and it seemed as if the name had been mine by right of blood always
Of course I went to Kingswell riding Johns brown mare he himself walking by my side It was not often that we were thus alone together and I enjoyed it much All the old days seemed to come back again as we passed along the quiet roads and green lanes just as when we were boys together when I had none I cared for but David and David cared only for me The natural growth of things had made a difference in this but our affection had changed its outward form only not its essence I often think that all loves and friendships need a certain three days burial before we can be quite sure of their truth and immortality Mine—it happened just after Johns marriage and I may confess it now—had likewise its entombment bitter as brief Many cruel hours sat I in darkness weeping at the door of its sepulchre thinking that I should never see it again but in the dawn of the morning it rose and I met it in the desolate garden different yet the very same And after that it walked with me continually secure and imperishable evermore
I rode and John sauntered beside me along the footpath now and then plucking a leaf or branch off the hedge and playing with it as was his habit when a lad Often I caught the old smile—not one of his three boys not even handsome Guy had their fathers smile
He was telling me about Enderley Mill and all his plans there in the which he seemed very happy At last his long life of duty was merging into the life he loved He looked as proud and pleased as a boy in talking of the new inventions he meant to apply in clothweaving and how he and his wife had agreed together to live for some years to come at little Longfield strictly within their settled income that all the remainder of his capital might go to the improvement of Enderley Mills and millpeople
I shall be master of nearly a hundred men and women Think what good we may do She has halfadozen plans on foot already—bless her dear heart
It was easy to guess whom he referred to—the one who went handinhand with him in everything
Was the dinner in the barn next Monday her plan too
Partly I thought we would begin a sort of yearly festival for the old tanyard people and those about the flourmill and the Kingswell tenants—ah Phineas wasnt I right about those Kingswell folk
These were about a dozen poor families whom when our mortgage fell in he had lured out of Sally Watkins miserable alley to these old houses where they had at least fresh country air and space enough to live wholesomely and decently instead of herding together like pigs in a sty
You ought to be proud of your tenants Phineas I assure you they form quite a contrast to their neighbours who are Lord Luxmores
And his voters likewise I suppose—the free and independent burgesses who are to send Mr Vermilye to Parliament
If they can said John biting his lip with that resolute halfcombative air which I now saw in him at times roused by things which continually met him in his dealings with the world—things repugnant alike to his feelings and his principles but which he had still to endure not having risen high enough to oppose singlehanded the great mass of social corruption which at this crisis of English history kept gathering and gathering until out of the very horror and loathsomeness of it an outcry for purification arose
Do you know Phineas I might last week have sold your houses for double price They are valuable this election year since your five tenants are the only voters in Kingswell who are not likewise tenants of Lord Luxmore Dont you see how the matter stands
It was not difficult for that sort of game was played all over England connived at or at least winked at by those who had political influence to sell or obtain until the Reform Bill opened up the election system in all its rottenness and enormity
Of course I knew you would not sell your houses and I shall use every possible influence I have to prevent your tenants selling their votes Whatever may be the consequence the sort of thing that this Kingswell election bids fair to be is what any honest Englishman ought to set his face against and prevent if he can
Can you
I do not feel sure but I mean to try First for simple right and conscience secondly because if Mr Vermilye is not saved from arrest by being placed in Parliament he will be outlawed and driven safe out of the country You see
Ay I did only too well Though I foresaw that whatever John was about to do it must necessarily be something that would run directly counter to Lord Luxmore—and he had only just signed the lease of Enderley Mills Still if right to be done he ought to do it at all risks at all costs and I knew his wife would say so
We came to the foot of Kingswell Hill and saw the little hamlet—with its grey old houses its small ancient church guarded by enormous yewtrees and clothed with ivy that indicated centuries of growth
A carriage overtook us here in it were two gentlemen one of whom bowed in a friendly manner to John He returned it
This is well I shall have one honest gentleman to deal with today
Who is he
Sir Ralph Oldtower from whom I bought Longfield An excellent man—I like him—even his fine old Norman face like one of his knightly ancestors on the tomb in Kingswell church Theres something pleasant about his stiff courtesy and his staunch Toryism for he fully believes in it and acts up to his belief A true English gentleman and I respect him
Yet John Norton Bury calls you a democrat
So I am for I belong to the people But I nevertheless uphold a true aristocracy—the BEST MEN of the country—do you remember our Greeks of old These ought to govern and will govern one day whether their patent of nobility be births and titles or only honesty and brains
Thus he talked on and I liked to hear him for talking was rare in his busy life of constant action I liked to observe how during these ten years his mind had brooded over many things how it had grown strengthened and settled itself enlarging both its vision and its aspirations as a man does who his heart at rest in a happy home has time and will to look out from thence into the troublous world outside ready to do his work there likewise That John was able to do it—ay beyond most men—few would doubt who looked into his face strong with the strength of an intellect which owed all its development to himself alone calm with the wisdom which if a man is ever to be wise comes to him after he has crossed the line of thirty years In that face where day by day Time was writing its fit lessons—beautiful because they were so fit—I ceased to miss the boyish grace and rejoiced in the manhood present in the old age that was to be
It seemed almost too short a journey when putting his hand on the mares bridle—the creature loved him and turned to lick his arm the minute he came near—John stopped me to see the view from across Kingswell churchyard
Look what a broad valley rich in woods and meadowland and corn How quiet and blue lie the Welsh hills far away It does one good to look at them Nay it brings back a little bit of me which rarely comes uppermost now as it used to come long ago when we read your namesake and Shakspeare and that Anonymous Friend who has since made such a noise in the world I delight in him still Think of a man of business liking Coleridge
I dont see why he should not
Nor I Well my poetic tastes may come out more at Enderley Or perhaps when I am an old man and have fought the good fight and—holloa there Matthew Hales have they made you drunk already
The man—he was an old workman of ours—touched his hat and tried to walk steadily past the master who looked at once both stern and sad
I thought it would be so—I doubt if there is a voter in all Kingswell who has not got a bribe
It is the same everywhere I said What can one man do against it singlehanded
Singlehanded or not every man ought to do what he can And no man knows how much he can do till he tries
So saying he went into the large parlour of the Luxmore Arms where the election was going on
A very simple thing that election Sir Ralph Oldtower who was sheriff sat at a table with his son the gravelooking young man who had been with him in the carriage near them were Mr Brithwood of the Mythe and the Earl of Luxmore
The room was pretty well filled with farmers labourers and the like We entered making little noise but Johns head was taller than most heads present the sheriff saw him at once and bowed courteously So did young Mr Herbert Oldtower so did the Earl of Luxmore Richard Brithwood alone took no notice but turned his back and looked another way
It was now many years since I had seen the squire Lady Carolines husband He had fulfilled the promise of his youth and grown into a bloated coarsefeatured middleaged man such a man as one rarely meets with nowadays for even I Phineas Fletcher have lived to see so great a change in manners and morals that intemperance instead of being the usual characteristic of a gentleman has become a rare failing—a universallycontemned disgrace
Less noise there growled Mr Brithwood Silence you fellows at the door Now Sir Ralph lets get the business over and be back for dinner
Sir Ralph turned his stately grey head to the light put on his gold spectacles and began to read the writ of election As he finished the small audience set up a feeble cheer
The sheriff acknowledged it then leaned over the table talking with rather frosty civility to Lord Luxmore Their acquaintance seemed solely that of business People whispered that Sir Ralph never forgot that the Oldtowers were Crusaders when the Ravenels were—nobody Also the baronet whose ancestors were all honourable men and stainless women found it hard to overlook a certain royal barsinister which had originated the Luxmore earldom together with a few other blots which had tarnished that scutcheon since So folk said but probably Sir Ralphs high principle was at least as strong as his pride and that the real cause of his dislike was founded on the too wellknown character of the Earl of Luxmore
They ceased talking the sheriff rose and briefly stated that Richard Brithwood Esquire of the Mythe would nominate a candidate
The candidate was Gerard Vermilye Esquire at the mention of whose name one Norton Bury man broke into a horselaugh which was quenched by his immediate ejection from the meeting
Then Mr Thomas Brown steward of the Earl of Luxmore seconded the nomination
After a few words between the sheriff his son and Lord Luxmore the result of which seemed rather unsatisfactory than otherwise Sir Ralph Oldtower again rose
Gentlemen and electors there being no other candidate proposed nothing is left me but to declare Gerard Vermilye Esquire—
John Halifax made his way to the table Sir Ralph pardon my interruption but may I speak a few words
Mr Brithwood started up with an angry oath
My good sir said the baronet with a look of reprehension which proved him of the minority who thought swearing ungentlemanly
By —— Sir Ralph you shall not hear that low fellow
Excuse me I must if he has a right to be heard Mr Halifax you are a freeman of Kingswell
I am
This fact surprised none more than myself
Brithwood furiously exclaimed that it was a falsehood The fellow does not belong to this neighbourhood at all He was picked up in Norton Bury streets—a beggar a thief for all I know
You do know very well Mr Brithwood Sir Ralph I was never either a beggar or a thief I began life as a working lad—a farmlabourer—until Mr Fletcher the tanner took me into his employ
So I have always understood said Sir Ralph courteously And next to the man who is fortunate enough to boast a noble origin I respect the man who is not ashamed of an ignoble one
That is not exactly my position either said John with a half smile But we are passing from the question in hand which is simply my claim to be a freeman of this borough
On what grounds
You will find in the charter a clause seldom put in force that the daughter of a freeman can confer the freedom on her husband My wifes late father Mr Henry March was a burgess of Kingswell I claimed my rights and registered this year Ask your clerk Sir Ralph if I have not spoken correctly
The old whiteheaded clerk allowed the fact
Lord Luxmore looked considerably surprised and politely incredulous still His soninlaw broke out into loud abuse of this knavery
I will pass over this ugly word Mr Brithwood merely stating that—
We are quite satisfied interrupted Lord Luxmore blandly My dear sir may I request so useful a vote and so powerful an interest as yours for our friend Mr Vermilye
My lord I should be very sorry for you to misapprehend me for a moment It is not my intention except at the last extremity to vote at all If I do it will certainly not be for Mr Brithwoods nominee Sir Ralph I doubt if under some circumstances which by your permission I am about to state Mr Gerard Vermilye can keep his seat even if elected
A murmur arose from the crowd of mechanics and labourers who awed by such propinquity to gentry and even nobility had hitherto hung sheepishly back but now like all English crowds were quite ready to follow the leader especially one they knew
Hear him hear the master was distinguishable on all sides Mr Brithwood looked too enraged for words but Lord Luxmore taking snuff with a sarcastic smile said
Honores mutant mores—I thought Mr Halifax you eschewed politics
Mere politics I do but not honesty justice morality and a few facts have reached my knowledge though possibly not Lord Luxmores which make me feel that Mr Vermilyes election would be an insult to all three therefore I oppose it
A louder murmur rose
Silence you scoundrels shouted Mr Brithwood adding his usual formula of speech which a second time extorted the old baronets grave rebuke
It seems Sir Ralph that democracy is rife in your neighbourhood True my acquaintance has not lain much among the commonalty but still I was not aware that the people choose the Member of Parliament
They do not Lord Luxmore returned the sheriff somewhat haughtily But we always hear the people Mr Halifax be brief What have you to allege against Mr Brithwoods nominee
First his qualification He has not three hundred nor one hundred ayear He is deeply in debt at Norton Bury and elsewhere Warrants are out against him and only as an MP can he be safe from outlawry Add to this an offence common as daylight yet which the law dare not wink at when made patent—that he has bribed with great or small sums every one of the fifteen electors of Kingswell and I think I have said enough to convince any honest Englishman that Mr Gerard Vermilye is not fit to represent them in Parliament
Here a loud cheer broke from the crowd at the door and under the open windows where thick as bees the villagers had now collected They the unvoting and consequently unbribable portion of the community began to hiss indignantly at the fifteen unlucky voters For though bribery was as John had truly said as common as daylight still if brought openly before the public the said virtuous public generally condemned it if they themselves had not been concerned therein
The sheriff listened uneasily to a sound very uncommon at elections of the populace expressing an opinion contrary to that of the lord of the soil
Really Mr Brithwood you must have been as ignorant as I was of the character of your nominee or you would have chosen some one else Herbert—he turned to his son who until the late dissolution had sat for some years as member for Norton Bury—Herbert are you acquainted with any of these facts
Mr Herbert Oldtower looked uncomfortable
Answer said his father No hesitation in a matter of right and wrong Gentlemen and my worthy friends will you hear Mr Oldtower whom you all know Herbert are these accusations true
I am afraid so said the grave young man more gravely
Mr Brithwood I regret extremely that this discovery was not made before What do you purpose doing
By the Lord that made me nothing The borough is Lord Luxmores I could nominate Satan himself if I chose My man shall stand
I think Lord Luxmore said with meaning it would be better for all parties that Mr Vermilye should stand
My lord said the baronet and one could see that not only rigid justice but a certain obstinacy marked his character especially when anything jarred against his personal dignity or prejudices you forget that however desirous I am to satisfy the family to whom this borough belongs it is impossible for me to see with satisfaction—even though I cannot prevent—the election of any person so unfit to serve His Majesty If indeed there were another candidate so that the popular feeling might decide this very difficult matter—
Sir Ralph said John Halifax determinedly this brings me to the purpose for which I spoke Being a landholder and likewise a freeman of this borough I claim the right of nominating a second candidate
Intense overwhelming astonishment struck all present Such a right had been so long unclaimed that everybody had forgotten it was a right at all Sir Ralph and his clerk laid their venerable heads together for some minutes before they could come to any conclusion on the subject At last the sheriff rose
I am bound to say that though very uncommon this proceeding is not illegal
Not illegal almost screamed Richard Brithwood
Not illegal I therefore wait to hear Mr Halifaxs nomination Sir your candidate is I hope no democrat
His political opinions differ from mine but he is the only gentleman whom I in this emergency can name and is one whom myself and I believe all my neighbours will be heartily glad to see once more in Parliament I beg to nominate Mr Herbert Oldtower
A decided sensation at the upper half of the room At the lower half an unanimous involuntary cheer for among our county families there were few so warmly respected as the Oldtowers
Sir Ralph rose much perplexed I trust that no one present will suppose I was aware of Mr Halifaxs intention Nor I understand was Mr Oldtower My son must speak for himself
Mr Oldtower with his accustomed gravity accompanied by a not unbecoming modesty said that in this conjuncture and being personally unacquainted with both Mr Brithwood and the Earl of Luxmore he felt no hesitation in accepting the honour offered to him
That being the case said his father though evidently annoyed I have only to fulfil my duty as public officer to the Crown
Amidst some confusion a show of hands was called for and then a cry rose of Go to the poll
Go to the poll shouted Mr Brithwood This is a family borough There has not been a poll here these fifty years Sir Ralph your sons mad
Sir insanity is not in the family of the Oldtowers My position here is simply as sheriff of the county If a poll be called for—
Excuse me Sir Ralph it would be hardly worth while May I offer you—
It was—only his snuffbox But the Earls polite and meaning smile filled up the remainder of the sentence
Sir Ralph Oldtower drew himself up haughtily and the fire of youth flashed indignantly from his grand old eyes
Lord Luxmore seems not to understand the duties and principles of us country gentlemen he said coldly and turned away addressing the general meeting Gentlemen the poll will be held this afternoon according to the suggestion of my neighbour here
Sir Ralph Oldtower has convenient neighbours remarked Lord Luxmore
Of my neighbour Mr Halifax repeated the old baronet louder and more emphatically A gentleman—he paused as if doubtful whether in that title he were awarding a right or bestowing a courtesy looked at John and decided—a gentleman for whom ever since I have known him I have entertained the highest respect
It was the first public recognition of the position which for some time had been tacitly given to John Halifax in his own neighbourhood Coming thus from this upright and honourable old man whose least merit it was to hold and worthily a baronetage centuries old it made Johns cheek glow with an honest gratification and a pardonable pride
Tell her he said to me when the meeting having dispersed he asked me to ride home and explain the reason of his detention at Kingswell—Tell my wife all She will be pleased you know
Ay she was Her face glowed and brightened as only a wifes can—a wife whose dearest pride is in her husbands honour
Nevertheless she hurried me back again as quickly as I came
As I once more rode up Kingswell Hill it seemed as if the whole parish were agog to see the novel sight A contested election truly such a thing had not been known within the memory of the oldest inhabitant The fifteen voters—I believe that was the number—were altogether bewildered by a sense of their own importance Also by a new and startling fact—which I found Mr Halifax trying to impress upon a few of them gathered under the great yewtree in the churchyard—that a mans vote ought to be the expression of his own conscientious opinion and that for him to sell it was scarcely less vile than to traffic in the liberty of his son or the honour of his daughter Among those who listened most earnestly was a man whom I had seen before today—Jacob Baines once the ringleader of the breadriots who had long worked steadily in the tanyard and then at the flourmill He was the honestest and faithfulest of all Johns people—illustrating unconsciously that Divine doctrine that often they love most to whom most has been forgiven
The poll was to be held in the church—a not uncommon usage in country boroughs but which from its rarity struck great awe into the Kingswell folk The churchwarden was placed in the clerks desk to receive votes Not far off the sheriff sat in his familypew bareheaded by his grave and reverent manner imposing due decorum which was carefully observed by all except Lord Luxmore and Mr Brithwood
These two apparently sure of their cause had recovered their spirits and talked and laughed loudly on the other side of the church It was a very small building narrow and cruciform every word said in it was distinctly audible throughout
My lord gentlemen and my friends all said Sir Ralph rising gravely let me hope that every one will respect the sanctity of this place
Lord Luxmore who had been going about with his dazzling diamond snuffbox and equally dazzling smile stopped in the middle of the aisle bowed replied With pleasure—certainly and walked inside the communion rail as if believing that his presence there conveyed the highest compliment he could pay the spot
The poll began in perfect silence One after the other three farmers went up and voted for Mr Vermilye There was snuff under their noses—probably something heavier than snuff in their pockets
Then came up the big greyheaded fellow I have before mentioned—Jacob Baines He pulled his forelock to Sir Ralph rather shyly possibly in his youth he had made the sheriffs acquaintance under less favourable circumstances But he plucked up courage
Your honour might a man say a word to ee
Certainly but be quick my good fellow replied the baronet who was noted for his kindly manner to humble folk
Sir I be a poor man I lives in one o my lords houses I hanna paid no rent for a year Mr Brown zays to me he zays—Jacob vote for Vermilye and Ill forgive ee the rent and here be two pound ten to start again wi So as I zays to Matthew Hales he be Mr Halifaxs tenant your honour and my lords steward ha paid un nigh four pound for his vote I sure us be poor men and his lordship a lord and all that—its no harm I reckon
Holloa cut it short you rascal youre stopping the poll Vote I say
Ay ay squire and the old fellow who had some humour in him pulled his hair again civilly to Mr Brithwood Wait till I ha got shut o these
And he counted out of his ragged pockets a handful of guineas Poor fellow how bright they looked those guineas that were food clothing life
Three was paid to I two to Will Horrocks and the rest to Matthew Hales But sir we has changed our minds and please would ee give back the money to them as owns it
Still my honest friend—
Thank ee Sir Ralph thats it we be honest we couldnt look the master in the face else Twelve year ago come Michaelmas he kept some on us from starving—may be worse We beant going to turn rascals ons hands now Now Ill vote sir—and it wont be for Vermilye
A smothered murmur of applause greeted old Jacob as he marched back down the aisle where on the stone benches of the porch was seated a rural jury who discussed not overfavourably the merits of Lord Luxmores candidate
He owes a power o money in Norton Bury—he do
Why doesnt he show his face at the lection like a decent genleman
Feard o bailiffs suggested the one constable old and rheumatic who guarded the peace of Kingswell Hes the biggest swindler in all England
Curse him muttered an old woman She was a bonny lass—my Sally Curse him
All this while Lord Luxmore sat in lazy dignity in the communionchair apparently satisfied that as things always had been so they would continue to be that despite the unheardof absurdity of a contested election his pocketborough was quite secure It must have been to say the least a great surprise to his lordship when the poll being closed its result was found thus Out of the fifteen votes six were for Mr Vermilye nine for his opponent Mr Herbert Oldtower was therefore duly elected as member for the borough of Kingswell
The earl received the announcement with dignified incredulous silence but Mr Brithwood never spared language
Its a cheat—an infamous conspiracy I will unseat him—by my soul I will
You may find it difficult said John Halifax counting out the guineas deposited by Jacob Baines and laying them in a heap before Mr Brown the steward Small as the number is I believe any Committee of the House of Commons will decide that nine honester votes were never polled But I regret my lord—I regret deeply Mr Brithwood—and there was a kind of pity in his eye—that in this matter I have been forced as it were to become your opponent Some day perhaps you may both do me the justice that I now can only look for from my own conscience
Very possibly replied the earl with a satirical bow I believe gentlemen our business is ended for today and it is a long drive to Norton Bury Sir Ralph might we hope for the honour of your company No Good day my friends Mr Halifax your servant
One word my lord Those workmen of mine who are your tenants—I am aware what usually results when tenants in arrear vote against their landlords—if without taking any harsher measures your agent will be so kind as to apply to me for the rent—
Sir my agent will use his own discretion
Then I rely on your lordships kindliness—your sense of honour
Honour is only spoken of between equals said the earl haughtily But on one thing Mr Halifax may always rely—my excellent memory
With a smile and bow as perfect as if he were victoriously quitting the field Lord Luxmore departed Soon not one remained of all those who had filled the church and churchyard making there a tumult that is chronicled to this very day by some ancient villagers who still think themselves greatly illused because the Reform Act has blotted out of the list of English boroughs the loyal and independent borough of Kingswell
Sir Ralph Oldtower stood a good while talking with John and finally having sent his carriage on walked with him down Kingswell Hill towards the manorhouse I riding alongside caught fragments of their conversation
What you say is all true Mr Halifax and you say it well But what can we do Our English constitution is perfect—that is as perfect as anything human can be Yet corruptions will arise we regret we even blame—but we cannot remove them It is impossible
Do you think Sir Ralph that the Maker of this world—which so far as we can see He means like all other of His creations gradually to advance toward perfection—do you think He would justify us in pronouncing any good work therein impossible
You talk like a young man said the baronet half sadly Coming years will show you the world and the ways of it in a clearer light
I earnestly hope so
Sir Ralph glanced sideways at him—perhaps with a sort of envy of the very youth which he thus charitably excused as a thing to be allowed for till riper wisdom came Something might have smote the old man with a conviction that in this youth was strength and life the spirit of the new generation then arising before which the old wornout generation would crumble into its natural dust Dust of the dead ages honourable dust to be reverently inurned and never parricidally profaned by us the living age who in our turn must follow the same downward path Dust venerable and beloved—but still only dust
The conversation ending we took our diverse ways Sir Ralph giving Mr Halifax a hearty invitation to the manorhouse and seeing him hesitate added that Lady Oldtower would shortly have the honour of calling upon Mrs Halifax
John bowed But I ought to tell you Sir Ralph that my wife and I are very simple people—that we make no mere acquaintances and only desire friends
It is fortunate that Lady Oldtower and myself share the same peculiarity And shaking hands with a stately cordiality the old man took his leave
John you have made a step in the world today
Have I he said absently walking in deep thought and pulling the hedgeleaves as he went along
What will your wife say
My wife bless her and he seemed to be only speaking the conclusion of his thinking It will make no difference to her—though it might to me She married me in my low estate—but some day God willing no lady in the land shall be higher than my Ursula
Thus as in all things each thought most of the other and both of Him—whose will was to them beyond all human love ay even such love as theirs
Slowly slowly I watched the grey turrets of the manorhouse fade away in the dusk the hills grew indistinct and suddenly we saw the little twinkling light that we knew was the lamp in Longfield parlour shine out like a glowworm across the misty fields
I wonder if the children are gone to bed Phineas
And the fatherly eyes turned fondly to that pretty winking light the fatherly heart began to hover over the dear little nest of home
Surely theres some one at the white gate Ursula
John Ah—it is you
The mother did not express her feelings after the fashion of most women but I knew by her waiting there and by the nervous tremble of her hand how great her anxiety had been
Is all safe husband
I think so Mr Oldtower is elected—HE must fly the country
Then she is saved
Let us hope she is Come my darling and he wrapped his arm round her for she was shivering We have done all we could and must wait the rest Come home Oh with a lifted look and a closer strain thank God for home
CHAPTER XXV
We always rose early at Longfield It was lovely to see the morning sun climbing over OneTree Hill catching the larchwood and creeping down the broad slope of our field thence up toward Redwood and Leckington—until while the dews yet lay thick on our shadowed valley Leckington Hill was all in a glow of light Delicious too to hear the little ones running in and out bright and merry as children ought to be in the first wholesome hours of the day—to see them feeding their chickens and petting their doves—calling every minute on father or mother to investigate and enjoy some wonder in farmyard or garden And either was ever ready to listen to the smallest of these little mysteries knowing that nothing in childhood is too trivial for the notice too foolish for the sympathy of those on whom the Father of all men has bestowed the holy dignity of parenthood
I could see them now standing among the flowerbeds out in the sunny morning the fathers tall head in the centre of the group—for he was always the important person during the brief hour or two that he was able to be at home The mother close beside him and both knotted round with an interlaced mass of little arms and little eager faces each wanting to hear everything and to look at everything—everybody to be first and nobody last None rested quiet or mute for a second except the one who kept close as his shadow to her fathers side and unwittingly was treated by him less like the other children than like some stray spirit of another world caught and held jealously but without much outward notice lest haply it might take alarm and vanish back again unawares Whenever he came home and did not see her waiting at the door his first question was always—Wheres Muriel
Muriels still face looked very bright this morning—the Monday morning after the election—because her father was going to be at home the whole day It was the annual holiday he had planned for his workpeople This only dinnerparty we had ever given was in its character not unlike that memorable feast to which were gathered the poor the lame the halt and the blind—all who needed and all who could not return the kindness There were great cooking preparations—everything that could make merry the heart of man—tea to comfort the heart of woman hardworking woman—and lots of bright pennies and silver groats to rejoice the very souls of youth
Mrs Halifax Jem Watkins and his Jenny were as busy as bees all morning John did his best to help but finally the mother pleaded how hard it was that the children should miss their holidaywalk with him so we were all dismissed from the scene of action to spend a long quiet two hours lying under the great oak on OneTree Hill The little ones played about till they were tired then John took out the newspaper and read about Ciudad Rodrigo and Lord Wellingtons entry into Madrid—the battered eagles and the torn and bloody flags of Badajoz which were on their way home to the Prince Regent
I wish the fighting were over and peace were come said Muriel
But the boys wished quite otherwise they already gloried in the accounts of battles played domestic games of French and English acted garden sieges and blockades
How strange and awful it seems to sit on this green grass looking down on our quiet valley and then think of the fighting far away in Spain—perhaps this very minute under this very sky Boys Ill never let either of you be a soldier
Poor little fellows said I they can remember nothing but war time
What would peace be like asked Muriel
A glorious time my child—rejoicings everywhere fathers and brothers coming home work thriving poor mens food made cheap and all things prospering
I should like to live to see it Shall I be a woman then father
He started Somehow she seemed so unlike an ordinary child that while all the boys future was merrily planned out—the mother often said laughing she knew exactly what sort of a young man Guy would be—none of us ever seemed to think of Muriel as a woman
Is Muriel anxious to be grown up Is she not satisfied with being my little daughter always
Always
Her father drew her to him and kissed her soft shut blind eyes Then sighing he rose and proposed that we should all go home
This first feast at Longfield was a most merry day The men and their families came about noon Soon after they all sat down to dinner Jem Watkins plan of the barn being universally scouted in favour of an openair feast in the shelter of a hayrick under the mild blue September sky Jem presided with a ponderous dignity which throughout the day furnished great private amusement to Ursula John and me
In the afternoon all rambled about as they liked—many under the ciceroneship of Master Edwin and Master Guy who were very popular and grand indeed Then the mother with Walter clinging shyeyed to her gown went among the other poorer mothers there talked to one comforted another counselled a third and invariably listened to all There was little of patronizing benevolence about her she spoke freely sometimes even with some sharpness when reproving comment was needed but her earnest kindness her active goodness darting at once to the truth and right of things touched the womens hearts While a few were a little wholesomely afraid of her—all recognized the influence of the mistress penetrating deep and sure extending far and wide
She laughed at me when I told her so—said it was all nonsense—that she only followed Johns simple recipe for making his workpeople feel that he was a friend as well as a master
What is that
To pay attention and consideration to all they say and always to take care and remember to call them by their right Christian names
I could not help smiling—it was an answer so like Mrs Halifax who never indulged in any verbal sentimentalism Her part in the world was deeds
It was already evening when having each contributed our quota great or small to the entertainment we all came and sat on the long bench under the walnuttree The sun went down red behind us throwing a last glint on the upland field where from top to bottom the young men and women were running in a long Threadtheneedle Their voices and laughter came fairly down to us
I think they have had a happy day John They will work all the better tomorrow
I am quite sure of it
So am I said Guy who had been acting the young master all day condescendingly stating his will and giving his opinion on every subject greatly petted and looked up to by all to the no small amusement of us elders
Why my son asked the father smiling
But here Master Guy was posed and everybody laughed at him He coloured up with childish anger and crept nearer his mother She made a place for him at her side looking appealingly at John
Guy has got out of his depth—we must help him into safe waters again said the father Look here my son this is the reason—and it is well not to be quite sure of a thing unless one knows the reason Our people will work the better because they will work from love Not merely doing their duty and obeying their master in a blind way but feeling an interest in him and all that belongs to him knowing that he feels the same in them Knowing too that although being their superior in many things he is their master and they his servants he never forgets that saying which I read out of the Bible children this morning ONE IS YOUR MASTER—EVEN CHRIST AND ALL YE ARE BRETHREN Do you understand
I think they did for he was accustomed to talk with them thus—even beyond their years Not in the way of preachifying—for these little ones had in their childish days scarcely any socalled religious instruction save the daily chapter out of the New Testament and the father and mothers daily life which was a simple and literal carrying out of the same To that one test was brought all that was thought or said or done in our household where it often seemed as if the Master were as visibly obeyed and followed as in the household which He loved at Bethany
As to what doctrinal creed we held or what sect we belonged to I can give but the plain answer which John gave to all such inquiries—that we were CHRISTIANS
After these words from the Holy Book which the children always listened to with great reverence as to the Book which their parents most loved and honoured the reading and learning of which was granted as a high reward and favour and never carelessly allowed or—horrible to think—inflicted as a punishment we ceased smiling at Guy who in his turn ceased to frown The little storm blew over as our domestic storms usually did leaving a clear free heaven Loving one another of course we quarrelled sometimes but we always made it up again because we loved one another
Father I hear the click of the gate Theres somebody coming said Muriel
The father paused in a great romp with his sons—paused as he ever did when his little daughters soft voice was heard Tis only a poor boy—who can he be
One of the folk that come for milk most likely—but we have none to give away today What do you want my lad
The lad who looked miserable and scared opened his mouth with a stupid Eh
Ursula repeated the question
I wants Jacob Baines
Youll find him with the rest in front of that hayrick over his pipe and ale
The lad was off like a shot
He is from Kingswell I think Can anything be the matter John
I will go and see No boys no more games—I will be back presently
He went apparently rather anxious—as was easy to find out by only a glance at the face of Ursula Soon she rose and went after him I followed her
We saw close by the hayrick a group of men angrily talking The gossiping mothers were just joining them Far off in the field the younger folk were still dancing merrily down their long line of Threadtheneedle
As we approached we heard sobbing from one or two women and loud curses from the men
Whats amiss said Mr Halifax as he came in the midst—and both curses and sobbings were silenced All began a confused tale of wrongs Stop Jacob—I cant make it out
This lad ha seen it all And he beant a liar in big things—speak up Billy
Somehow or other we extracted the news brought by ragged Billy who on this day had been left in charge of the five dwellings rented of Lord Luxmore During the owners absence there had been a distraint for rent every bit of the furniture was carried off two or three aged and sick folk were left lying on the bare floor—and the poor families here would have to go home to nothing but their four walls
Again at repetition of the story the women wept and the men swore
Be quiet said Mr Halifax again But I saw that his honest English blood was boiling within him Jem—and Jem Watkins started so unusually sharp and commanding was his masters tone—Saddle the mare—quick I shall ride to Kingswell and thence to the sheriffs
God bless ee sir sobbed Jacob Baines widowed daughterinlaw who had left as I overheard her telling Mrs Halifax a sick child today at home
Jacob Baines took up a heavy knobbed stick which happened to be leaning against the hayrick and eyed it with savage meaning
Who be they as has done this master
Put that bludgeon down Jacob
The man hesitated—met his masters determined eye—and obeyed him meek as a lamb
But what is us to do sir
Nothing Stay here till I return—you shall come to no harm You will trust me my men
They gathered round him—those big fiercelooking fellows in whom was brute force enough to attack or resist anything—yet he made them listen to reason He explained as much as he could of the injustice which had apparently been done them—injustice which had overstepped the law and could only be met by keeping absolutely within the law
It is partly my fault that I did not pay the rent today—I will do so at once I will get your goods back tonight if I can If not you hale fellows can rough it and well take the women and children in till morning—can we not love
Oh readily said the mother Dont cry my good women Mary Baines give me your baby Cheer up the master will set all right
John smiled at her in fond thanks—the wife who hindered him by no selfishness or weakness but was his right hand and support in everything As he mounted she gave him his whip whispering—
Take care of yourself mind Come back as soon as you can
And lingeringly she watched him gallop down the field
It was a strange three hours we passed in his absence The misty night came down and round about the house crept wailing the loud September wind We brought the women into the kitchen—the men lit a fire in the farmyard and sat sullenly round it It was as much as I could do to persuade Guy and Edwin to go to bed instead of watching that beautiful blaze There more than once I saw the mother standing with a shawl over her head and her white gown blowing trying to reason into patience those poor fellows savage with their wrongs
How far have they been wronged Phineas What is the strict law of the case Will any harm come to John for interfering
I told her no so far as I knew That the cruelty and illegality lay in the haste of the distraint and in the goods having been carried off at once giving no opportunity of redeeming them It was easy to grind the faces of the poor who had no helper
Never mind my husband will see them righted—at all risks
But Lord Luxmore is his landlord
She looked troubled I see what you mean It is easy to make an enemy No matter—I fear not I fear nothing while John does what he feels to be right—as I know he will the issue is in higher hands than ours or Lord Luxmores But wheres Muriel
For as we sat talking the little girl—whom nothing could persuade to go to bed till her father came home—had slipped from my hand and gone out into the blustering night We found her standing all by herself under the walnuttree
I wanted to listen for father When will he come
Soon I hope answered the mother with a sigh You must not stay out in the cold and the dark my child
I am not cold and I know no dark said Muriel softly
And thus so it was with her always In her spirit as in her outward life so innocent and harmless she knew no dark No cold looks—no sorrowful sights—no winter—no age The hand laid upon her clear eyes pressed eternal peace down on her soul I believe she was if ever human being was purely and entirely happy It was always sweet for us to know this—it is very sweet still Muriel our beloved
We brought her within the house but she persisted in sitting in her usual place on the doorsill waiting for her father It was she who first heard the white gate swing and told us he was coming
Ursula ran down to the stream to meet him
When they came up the path it was not alone—John was helping a lame old woman and his wife carried in her arms a sick child on whom when they entered the kitchen Mary Baines threw herself in a passion of crying
What have they been doing to ee Tommy—ee warnt like this when I left ee Oh theyve been killing my lad they have
Hush said Mrs Halifax well get him well again please God Listen to what the masters saying
He was telling to the men who gathered round the kitchendoor the results of his journey
It was—as I had expected from his countenance the first minute he appeared—fruitless He had found all things at Kingswell as stated Then he rode to the sheriffs but Sir Ralph was absent sent for to Luxmore Hall on very painful business
My friends said the master stopping abruptly in his narrative for a few hours you must make up your minds to sit still and bear it Every man has to learn that lesson at times Your landlord has—I would rather be the poorest among you than Lord Luxmore this night Be patient well lodge you all somehow Tomorrow I will pay your rent—get your goods back—and you shall begin the world again as my tenants not Lord Luxmores
Hurrah shouted the men easily satisfied as working people are who have been used all their days to live from hand to mouth and to whom the present is all in all They followed the master who settled them in the barn and then came back to consult with his wife as to where the women could be stowed away So in a short time the five homeless families were cheerily disposed of—all but Mary Baines and her sick boy
What can we do with them said John questioningly to Ursula
I see but one course We must take him in his mother says hunger is the chief thing that ails the lad She fancies that he has had the measles but our children have had it too so theres no fear Come upstairs Mary Baines
Passing with a thankful look the room where her own boys slept the good mother established this forlorn young mother and her two children in a little closet outside the nursery door cheered her with comfortable words helped her ignorance with wise counsels—for Ursula was the general doctress of all the poor folk round It was almost midnight before she came down to the parlour where John and I sat he with little Muriel asleep in his arms The child would gladly have slumbered away all night there with the delicate pale profile pressed close into his breast
Is all right love How tired you must be John put his left arm round his wife as she came and knelt by him in front of the cheerful fire
Tired Oh of course but you cant think how comfortable they are upstairs Only poor Mary Baines does nothing but cry and keep telling me that nothing ails her lad but hunger Are they so very poor
John did not immediately answer I fancied he looked suddenly uneasy and imperceptibly pressed his little girl closer to him
The lad seems very ill Much worse than our children were with measles
Yet how they suffered poor pets especially Walter It was the thought of them made me pity her so Surely I have not done wrong
No—love quite right and kind Acting so I think one need not fear See mother how soundly Muriel sleeps Its almost a pity to waken her—but we must go to bed now
Stay one minute I said Tell us John—I quite forgot to ask till now—what is that painful business you mentioned which called the sheriff to Lord Luxmores
John glanced at his wife leaning fondly against him her face full of sweet peace then at his little daughter asleep then round the cheerful firelit room outside which the autumn nightwind went howling furiously
Love we that are so happy we must not dare not condemn
She looked at him with a shocked inquiry You dont mean—No it is impossible
It is true She has gone away
Ursula sank down hiding her face Horrible And only two days since she was here kissing our children
We all three kept a long silence then I ventured to ask when she went away
This morning early They took—at least Mr Vermilye did—all the property of Lord Luxmores that he could lay his hands upon—family jewels and money to a considerable amount The earl is pursuing him now not only as his daughters seducer but as a swindler and a thief
And Richard Brithwood
Drinks—and drinks—and drinks That is the beginning and the end of all
There was no more to be said She had dropped for ever out of her old life as completely as a star out of the sky Henceforth for years and years neither in our home nor I believe in any other was there the slightest mention made of Lady Caroline Brithwood
All the next day John was from home settling the Kingswell affair The ejected tenants—our tenants now—left us at last giving a parting cheer for Mr Halifax the best master in all England
Sitting down to tea with no small relief that all was over John asked his wife after the sick lad
He is very ill still I think
Are you sure it is measles
I imagine so and I have seen nearly all childish diseases except—no THAT is quite impossible added the mother hastily She cast an anxious glance on her little ones her hand slightly shook as she poured out their cups of milk Do you think John—it was hard to do it when the child is so ill—I ought to have sent them away with the others
Certainly not If it were anything dangerous of course Mary Baines would have told us What are the lads symptoms
As Ursula informed him I thought he looked more and more serious but he did not let her see
Make your mind easy love a word from Dr Jessop will decide all I will fetch him after tea Cheer up Please God no harm will come to our little ones
The mother brightened again with her all the rest and the teatable clatter went on merry as ever Then it being a wet night Mrs Halifax gathered her boys round her knee for an evening chat over the kitchenfire while through the open door out of the dim parlour came Muriels voice as we called the harpsichord It seemed sweeter than ever this night like—as her father once said but checked himself and never said it afterwards—like Muriel talking with angels
He sat listening awhile then without any remark put on his coat and went out to fetch the good doctor I followed him down to the stream
Phineas he said will you mind—dont notice it to the mother—but mind and keep her and the children downstairs till I come back
I promised Are you uneasy about Mary Bainess lad
No I have full trust in human means and above all in—what I need not speak of Still precautions are wise Do you remember that day when rather against Ursulas wish I vaccinated the children
I remembered Also that the virus had taken effect with all but Muriel and we had lately talked of repeating the muchblamed and miraculous experiment upon her I hinted this
Phineas you mistake he answered rather sharply She is quite safe—as safe as the others I wrote to Dr Jenner himself But dont mention that I spoke about this
Why not
Because today I heard that they have had the smallpox at Kingswell
I felt a cold shudder Though inoculation and vaccination had made it less fatal among the upper classes this frightful scourge still decimated the poor especially children Great was the obstinacy in refusing relief and loud the outcry in Norton Bury when Mr Halifax who had met and known Dr Jenner in London—finding no practitioner that would do it persisted in administering the vaccine virus himself to his children But still with a natural fear he had kept them out of all risk of taking the smallpox until now
John do you think—
No I will not allow myself to think Not a word of this at home mind Goodbye
He walked away and I returned up the path heavily as if a cloud of terror and dole were visibly hanging over our happy Longfield
The doctor appeared he went up to the sick lad then he and Mr Halifax were closeted together for a long time After he was gone John came into the kitchen where Ursula sat with Walter on her knee The child was in his little white nightgown playing with his elder brothers and warming his rosy toes
The mother had recovered herself entirely was content and gay I saw Johns glance at her and then—and then I feared
What does the doctor say The child will soon be well
We must hope so
John what do you mean I thought the little fellow looked better when I went up to see him last And there—I hear the poor mother upstairs crying
She may cry she has need said John bitterly She knew it all the while She never thought of our children but they are safe Be content love—please God they are quite safe Very few take it after vaccination
It—do you mean the smallpox Has the lad got smallpox Oh God help us My children—my children
She grew white as death long shivers came over her from head to foot The little boys frightened crept up to her she clasped them all together in her arms turning her head with a wild savage look as if some one were stealing behind to take them from her
Muriel perceiving the silence felt her way across the room and touching her mothers face said anxiously Has anybody been naughty
No my darling no
Then never mind Father says nothing will harm us except being naughty Did you not father
John snatched his little daughter up to his bosom and called her for the hundredth time the name my poor old father had named her—the blessed child
We all grew calmer the mother wept a little and it did her good we comforted the boys and Muriel telling them that in truth nothing was the matter only we were afraid of their catching the little lads sickness and they must not go near him
Yes she shall quit the house this minute—this very minute said the mother sternly but with a sort of wildness too
Her husband made no immediate answer but as she rose to leave the room he detained her Ursula do you know the child is all but dying
Let him die The wicked woman She knew it and she let me bring him among my children—my own poor children
I would she had never come But what is done is done Love think—if YOU were turned out of doors this bleak rainy night—with a dying child
Hush hush—She sank down with a sob
My darling whispered John as he made her lean against him—her support and comfort in all things do you think my heart is not ready to break like yours But I trust in God This trouble came upon us while we were doing right let us do right still and we need not fear Humanly speaking our children are safe it is only our own terror which exaggerates the danger They may not take the disease at all Then how could we answer it to our conscience if we turned out this poor soul and HER child died
No no
We will use all precautions The boys shall be moved to the other end of the house
I proposed that they should occupy my room as I had had smallpox and was safe
Thank you Phineas and even should they take it Dr Jenner has assured me that in every case after vaccination it has been the very slightest form of the complaint Be patient love trust in God and have no fear
Her husbands voice gradually calmed her At last she turned and clung round his neck silently and long Then she rose up and went about her usual duties just as if this horrible dread were not upon us
Mary Baines and her children stayed in the house Next day about noon the little lad died
It was the first death that had ever happened under our roof It shocked us all very much especially the children We kept them far away on the other side of the house—out of the house when possible—but still they would be coming back and looking up at the window at which as Muriel declared the little sick boy had turned into an angel and flown away The mother allowed the fancy to remain she thought it wrong and horrible that a childs first idea should be putting into the pithole Truer and more beautiful was Muriels instinctive notion of turning into an angel and flying away So we arranged that the poor little body should be coffined and removed before the children rose next morning
It was a very quiet teatime A sense of awe was upon the little ones they knew not why Many questions they asked about poor Tommy Baines and where he had gone to which the mother only answered after the simple manner of Scripture—he was not for God took him But when they saw Mary Baines go crying down the fieldpath Muriel asked why she cried how could she cry when it was God who had taken little Tommy
Afterwards she tried to learn of me privately what sort of place it was he had gone to and how he went whether he had carried with him all his clothes and especially the great bunch of woodbine she sent to him yesterday and above all whether he had gone by himself or if some of the angels which held so large a place in Muriels thoughts and of which she was ever talking had come to fetch him and take care of him She hoped—indeed she felt sure—they had She wished she had met them or heard them about in the house
And seeing how the childs mind was running on the subject I thought it best to explain to her as simply as I could the solemn putting off of life and putting on of immortality I wished that my darling who could never visibly behold death should understand it as no image of terror but only as a calm sleep and a joyful waking in another country the glories of which eye had not seen nor ear heard
Eye has not seen repeated Muriel thoughtfully can people SEE there Uncle Phineas
Yes my child There is no darkness at all
She paused a minute and said earnestly I want to go—I very much want to go How long do you think it will be before the angels come for me
Many many years my precious one said I shuddering for truly she looked so like them that I began to fear they were close at hand
But a few minutes afterwards she was playing with her brothers and talking to her pet doves so sweet and humanlike that the fear passed away
We sent the children early to bed that night and sat long by the fire consulting how best to remove infection and almost satisfied that in these two days it could not have taken any great hold on the house John was firm in his belief in Dr Jenner and vaccination We went to bed greatly comforted and the household sank into quiet slumbers even though under its roof slept in deeper sleep the little dead child
That small closet which was next to the nursery I occupied safely shut out by it from the rest of the house seemed very still now I went to sleep thinking of it and dreamed of it afterwards
In the middle of the night a slight noise woke me and I almost fancied I was dreaming still for there I saw a little white figure gliding past my beds foot so softly and soundlessly—it might have been the ghost of a child—and it went into the dead childs room
For a moment that superstitious instinct which I believe we all have paralyzed me Then I tried to listen There was most certainly a sound in the next room—a faint cry quickly smothered—a very human cry All the stories I had ever heard of supposed death and premature burial rushed horribly into my mind Conquering alike my superstitious dread or fear of entering the infected room I leaped out of bed threw on some clothes got a light and went in
There laid the little corpse all safe and still—for ever And like its own spirit watching in the night at the head of the forsaken clay sat Muriel
I snatched her up and ran with her out of the room in an agony of fear
She hid her face on my shoulder trembling I have not done wrong have I I wanted to know what it was like—that which you said was left of little Tommy I touched it—it was so cold Oh Uncle Phineas THAT isnt poor little Tommy
No my blessed one—no my dearest child Dont think of it any more
And hardly knowing what was best to be done I called John and told him where I had found his little daughter He never spoke but snatched her out of my arms into his own took her in his room and shut the door
From that time our fears never slumbered For one whole week we waited watching the children hour by hour noting each change in each little face then Muriel sickened
It was I who had to tell her father when as he came home in the evening I met him by the stream It seemed to him almost like the stroke of death
Oh my God not her Any but her And by that I knew what I had long guessed that she was the dearest of all his children
Edwin and Walter took the disease likewise though lightly No one was in absolute danger except Muriel But for weeks we had what people call sickness in the house that terrible overhanging shadow which mothers and fathers well know under which one must live and move never resting night nor day This mother and father bore their portion and bore it well When she broke down which was not often he sustained her If I were to tell of all he did—how after being out all day night after night he would sit up watching by and nursing each little fretful sufferer patient as a woman and pleasant as a child playmate—perhaps those who talk loftily of the dignity of man would smile I pardon them
The hardest minute of the twentyfour hours was I think that when coming home he caught sight of me afar off waiting for him as I always did at the white gate and many a time as we walked down to the stream I saw—what no one else saw but God After such times I used often to ponder over what great love His must be who as the clearest revelation of it and of its nature calls Himself the Father
And He brought us safe through our time of anguish He left us every one of our little ones
One November Sunday when all the fields were in a mist and the rain came pouring softly and incessantly upon the patient earth which had been so torn and dried up by east winds that she seemed glad enough to put aside the mockery of sunshine and melt in quiet tears we once more gathered our flock together in thankfulness and joy
Muriel came downstairs triumphantly in her fathers arms and lay on the sofa smiling the firelight dancing on her small white face—white and unscarred The disease had been kind to the blind child she was I think more sweetlooking than ever Older perhaps the round prettiness of childhood gone—but her whole appearance wore that inexpressible expression in which for want of a suitable word we all embody our vague notions of the unknown world and call angelic
Does Muriel feel quite well—quite strong and well the father and mother both kept saying every now and then as they looked at her She always answered Quite well
In the afternoon when the boys were playing in the kitchen and John and I were standing at the open door listening to the dropping of the rain in the garden we heard after its long silence Muriels voice
Father listen whispered the mother linking her arm through his as he stood at the door Soft and slow came the notes of the old harpsichord—she was playing one of the abbey anthems Then it melted away into melodies we knew not—sweet and strange Her parents looked at one another—their hearts were full of thankfulness and joy
And Mary Bainess little lad is in the churchyard
CHAPTER XXVI
What a comfort the daylight is lengthening I think this has been the very dreariest winter I ever knew Has it not my little daughter Who brought her these violets
And John placed himself on a corner of my own particular armchair where somehow or other Muriel always lay curled up at teatime now—ay and many hours in the daytime though we hardly noticed it at first Taking between his hands the little face which broke into smiles at the merest touch of the fathers fingers he asked her when she intended to go a walk with him
Tomorrow
So we have said for a great many tomorrows but it is always put off What do you think mother—is the little maid strong enough
Mrs Halifax hesitated said something about east winds
Yet I think it would do her good if she braved east winds and played out of doors as the boys do Would you not like it Muriel
The child shrank back with an involuntary Oh no
That is because she is a little girl necessarily less strong than the lads are Is it not so Uncle Phineas continued her father hastily for I was watching them
Muriel will be quite strong when the warm weather comes We have had such a severe winter Every one of the children has suffered said the mother in a cheerful tone as she poured out a cup of cream for her daughter to whom was now given by common consent all the richest and rarest of the house
I think every one has said John looking round on his applecheeked boys it must have been a sharp eye that detected any decrease of health or increase of suffering there But my plan will set all to rights I spoke to Mrs Tod yesterday She will be ready to take us all in Boys shall you like going to Enderley You shall go as soon as ever the larchwood is green
For at Longfield already we began to make a natural almanack and chronological table When the may was out—When Guy found the first robins nest—When the field was all cowslips—and so on
Is it absolutely necessary we should go said the mother who had a strong homeclinging and already began to hold tiny Longfield as the apple of her eye
I think so unless you will consent to let me go alone to Enderley
She shook her head
What with those troubles at the mills How can you speak so lightly
Not lightly love—only cheerfully The troubles must be borne why not bear them with as good heart as possible They cannot last—let Lord Luxmore do what he will If as I told you we relet Longfield for this one summer to Sir Ralph we shall save enough to put the mill in thorough repair If my landlord will not do it I will and add a steamengine too
Now the last was a daring scheme discussed many a winter night by us three in Longfield parlour At first Mrs Halifax had looked grave—most women would especially wives and mothers in those days when every innovation was regarded with horror and improvement and ruin were held synonymous She might have thought so too had she not believed in her husband But now at mention of the steamengine she looked up and smiled
Lady Oldtower asked me about it today She said she hoped you would not ruin yourself like Mr Miller of Glasgow I said I was not afraid
Her husband returned a bright look It is easier to make the world trust one when one is trusted by ones own household
Ah never fear you will make your fortune yet in spite of Lord Luxmore
For all winter John had found out how many cares come with an attained wish Chiefly because as the earl had said his lordship possessed an excellent memory The Kingswell election had worked its results in a hundred small ways wherein the heavy hand of the landlord could be laid upon the tenant He bore up bravely against it but hard was the struggle between might and right oppression and staunch resistance It would have gone harder but for one whom John now began to call his friend at least one who invariably called Mr Halifax so—our neighbour Sir Ralph Oldtower
How often has Lady Oldtower been here Ursula
She called first you remember after our trouble with the children she has been twice since I think Today she wanted me to bring Muriel and take luncheon at the Manor House I shall not go—I told her so
But gently I hope—you are so very outspoken love You made her clearly understand that it is not from incivility we decline her invitations—Well—never mind Some day we will take our place and so shall our children with any gentry in the land
I think—though John rarely betrayed it—he had strongly this presentiment of future power which may often be noticed in men who have carved out their own fortunes They have in them the instinct to rise and as surely as water regains its own level so do they from however low a source ascend to theirs
Not many weeks after we removed in a body to Enderley Though the chief reason was that John might be constantly on the spot superintending his mills yet I fancied I could detect a secondary reason which he would not own even to himself but which peered out unconsciously in his anxious looks I saw it when he tried to rouse Muriel into energy by telling her how much she would enjoy Enderley Hill how sweet the primroses grew in the beechwood and how wild and fresh the wind swept over the common morning and night His daily longing seemed to be to make her love the world and the things therein He used to turn away almost in pain from her smile as she would listen to all he said then steal off to the harpsichord and begin that soft dreamy music which the children called talking to angels
We came to Enderley through the valley where was Johns clothmill Many a time in our walks he and I had passed it and stopped to listen to the drowsy fall of the miniature Niagara or watch the incessant turning—turning of the great waterwheel Little we thought he should ever own it or that John would be pointing it out to his own boys lecturing them on undershot and overshot as he used to lecture me
It was sweet though halfmelancholy to see Enderley again to climb the steep meadows and narrow mulepaths up which he used to help me so kindly He could not now he had his little daughter in his arms It had come alas to be a regular thing that Muriel should be carried up every slight ascent and along every hard road We paused halfway up on a low wall where I had many a time rested watching the sunset over Nunneley Hill—watching for John to come home Every night—at least after Miss March went away—he usually found me sitting there
He turned to me and smiled Dost remember lad at which appellation Guy widely stared But for a minute how strangely it brought back old times when there were neither wife nor children—only he and I This seat on the wall with its small twilight picture of the valley below the mill and Nunneley heights with that sentinel row of sunset trees—was all mine—mine solely—for evermore
Enderley is just the same Phineas Twelve years have made no change—except in us And he looked fondly at his wife who stood a little way off holding firmly on the wall in a hazardous group her three boys I think the chorus and comment on all life might be included in two brief phrases given by our friend Shakspeare one to Hamlet the other to Othello Tis very strange and Tis better as it is
Ay ay said I thoughtfully Better as it was better a thousand times
I went to Mrs Halifax and helped her to describe the prospect to the inquisitive boys finally coaxing the refractory Guy up the winding road where just as if it had been yesterday stood my old friends my four Lombardy poplars three together and one apart
Mrs Tod descried us afar off and was waiting at the gate a little stouter a little rosier—that was all In her delight she so absolutely forgot herself as to address the mother as Miss March at which longunspoken name Ursula started her colour went and came and her eyes turned restlessly towards the church hard by
It is all right—Miss—Maam I mean Tod bears in mind Mr Halifaxs orders and has planted lots o flowerroots and evergreens
Yes I know
And when she had put all her little ones to bed—we wondering where the mother was went out towards the little churchyard and found her quietly sitting there
We were very happy at Enderley Muriel brightened up before she had been there many days She began to throw off her listlessness and go about with me everywhere It was the season she enjoyed most—the time of the singing of birds and the springing of delicatescented flowers I myself never loved the beechwood better than did our Muriel She used continually to tell us this was the happiest spring she had ever had in her life
John was much occupied now He left his Norton Bury business under efficient care and devoted himself almost wholly to the clothmill Early and late he was there Very often Muriel and I followed him and spent whole mornings in the mill meadows Through them the stream on which the machinery depended was led by various contrivances checked or increased in its flow making small ponds or locks or waterfalls We used to stay for hours listening to its murmur to the sharp strange cry of the swans that were kept there and the twitter of the waterhen to her young among the reeds Then the father would come to us and remain a few minutes—fondling Muriel and telling me how things went on at the mill
One morning as we three sat there on the brickwork of a little bridge underneath an elm tree round the roots of which the water made a pool so clear that we could see a large pike lying like a black shadow halfway down John suddenly said
What is the matter with the stream Do you notice Phineas
I have seen it gradually lowering—these two hours I thought you were drawing off the water
Nothing of the kind—I must look after it Goodbye my little daughter Dont cling so fast father will be back soon—and isnt this a sweet sunny place for a little maid to be lazy in
His tone was gay but he had an anxious look He walked rapidly down the meadows and went into his mill Then I saw him retracing his steps examining where the stream entered the bounds of his property Finally he walked off towards the little town at the head of the valley—beyond which buried in woods lay Luxmore Hall It was two hours more before we saw him again
Then he came towards us narrowly watching the stream It had sunk more and more—the muddy bottom was showing plainly
Yes—thats it—it can be nothing else I did not think he would have dared to do it
Do what John Who
Lord Luxmore He spoke in the smothered tones of violent passion Lord Luxmore has turned out of its course the stream that works my mill
I tried to urge that such an act was improbable in fact against the law
Not against the law of the great against the little Besides he gives a decent colouring—says he only wants the use of the stream three days a week to make fountains at Luxmore Hall But I see what it is—I have seen it coming a whole year He is determined to ruin me
John said this in much excitement He hardly felt Muriels tiny creeping hands
What does ruin mean Is anybody making father angry
No my sweet—not angry—only very very miserable
He snatched her up and buried his head in her soft childish bosom She kissed him and patted his hair
Never mind dear father You say nothing signifies if we are only good And father is always good
I wish I were
He sat down with her on his knee the murmur of the elmleaves and the slow dropping of the stream soothed him By and by his spirit rose as it always did the heavier it was pressed down
No Lord Luxmore shall not ruin me I have thought of a scheme But first I must speak to my people—I shall have to shorten wages for a time
How soon
Tonight If it must be done—better done at once before winter sets in Poor fellows it will go hard with them—theyll be hard upon me But it is only temporary I must reason them into patience if I can—God knows it is not they alone who want it
He almost ground his teeth as he saw the sun shining on the far white wing of Luxmore Hall
Have you no way of righting yourself If it is an unlawful act why not go to law
Phineas you forget my principle—only mine however I do not force it upon any one else—my firm principle that I will never go to law Never I would not like to have it said in contradistinction to the old saying See how these Christians FIGHT
I urged no more since whether abstractedly the question be right or wrong there can be no doubt that what a man believes to be evil to him it is evil
Now Uncle Phineas go you home with Muriel Tell my wife what has occurred—say I will come to tea as soon as I can But I may have some little trouble with my people here She must not alarm herself
No the mother never did She wasted no time in puerile apprehensions—it was not her nature she had the rare feminine virtue of never fidgetting—at least externally What was to be borne—she bore what was to be done—she did but she rarely made any fuss about either her doings or her sufferings
Tonight she heard all my explanation understood it I think more clearly than I did—probably from being better acquainted with her husbands plans and fears She saw at once the position in which he was placed a grave one to judge by her countenance
Then you think John is right
Of course I do
I had not meant it as a question or even a doubt But it was pleasant to hear her thus answer For as I have said Ursula was not a woman to be led blindfold even by her husband Sometimes they differed on minor points and talked their differences lovingly out but on any great question she had always this safe trust in him—that if one were right and the other wrong the erring one was much more likely to be herself than John
She said no more but put the children to bed then came downstairs with her bonnet on
Will you come with me Phineas Or are you too tired I am going down to the mill
She started walking quickly—yet not so quick but that on the slope of the common she stooped to pick up a crying child and send it home to its mother in Enderley village
It was almost dark and we met no one else except a young man whom I had occasionally seen about of evenings He was rather odd looking being invariably muffled up in a large cloak and a foreign sort of hat
Who is that watching our mills said Mrs Halifax hastily
I told her all I had seen of the person
A Papist most likely—I mean a Catholic John objected to the opprobrious word Papist Mrs Tod says there are a good many hidden hereabouts They used to find shelter at Luxmore
And that name set both our thoughts anxiously wandering so that not until we reached the foot of the hill did I notice that the person had followed us almost to the millgates
In his empty mill standing beside one of its silenced looms we found the master He was very much dejected—Ursula touched his arm before he even saw her
Well love—you know what has happened
Yes John But never mind
I would not—except for my poor people
What do you intend doing That which you have wished to do all the year
Our wishes come as a cross to us sometimes he said rather bitterly It is the only thing I can do The waterpower being so greatly lessened I must either stop the mills or work them by steam
Do that then Set up your steamengine
And have all the country down upon me for destroying handlabour Have a new set of Luddites coming to burn my mill and break my machinery That is what Lord Luxmore wants Did he not say he would ruin me—Worse than this—he is ruining my good name If you had heard those poor people whom I sent away tonight What must they who will have short work these two months and after that machinerywork which they fancy is taking the very bread out of their mouths—what must they think of the master
He spoke—as we rarely heard John speak as worldly cares and worldly injustice cause even the best of men to speak sometimes
Poor people he added how can I blame them I was actually dumb before them tonight when they said I must take the cost of what I do—they must have bread for their children But so must I for mine Lord Luxmore is the cause of all
Here I heard—or fancied I heard—out of the black shadow behind the loom a heavy sigh John and Ursula were too anxious to notice it
Could anything be done she asked Just to keep things going till your steamengine is ready Will it cost much
More than I like to think of But it must be—nothing venture—nothing have You and the children are secure anyhow thats one comfort But oh my poor people at Enderley
Again Ursula asked if nothing could be done
Yes—I did think of one plan—but—
John I know what you thought of
She laid her hand on his arm and looked straight up at him—eye to eye Often it seemed that from long habit they could read one anothers minds in this way clearly as a book At last John said
Would it be too hard a sacrifice love
How can you talk so We could do it easily by living in a plainer way by giving up one or two trifles Only outside things you know Why need we care for outside things
Why indeed he said in a low fond tone
So I easily found out how they meant to settle the difficulty namely by setting aside a portion of the annual income which John in his almost morbid anxiety lest his family should take harm by any possible nonsuccess in his business had settled upon his wife Three months of little renunciations—three months of the old narrow way of living as at Norton Bury—and the poor people at Enderley might have full wages whether or no there was full work Then in our quiet valley there would be no want no murmurings and above all no blaming of the master
They decided it all—in fewer words than I have taken to write it—it was so easy to decide when both were of one mind
Now said John rising as if a load were taken off his breast—now do what he will Lord Luxmore cannot do me any harm
Husband dont let us speak of Lord Luxmore
Again that sigh—quite ghostly in the darkness They heard it likewise this time
Whos there
Only I Mr Halifax—dont be angry with me
It was the softest mildest voice—the voice of one long used to oppression and the young man whom Ursula had supposed to be a Catholic appeared from behind the loom
I do not know you sir How came you to enter my mill
I followed Mrs Halifax I have often watched her and your children But you dont remember me
Yes when he came underneath the light of the one tallow candle we all recognized the face—more wan than ever—with a sadder and more hopeless look in the large grey eyes
I am surprised to see you here Lord Ravenel
Hush I hate the very sound of the name I would have renounced it long ago I would have hid myself away from him and from the world if he would have let me
He—do you mean your father
The boy—no he was a young man now but scarcely looked more than a boy—assented silently as if afraid to utter the name
Would not your coming here displease him said John always tenacious of trenching a hairs breadth upon any lawful authority
It matters not—he is away He has left me these six months alone at Luxmore
Have you offended him asked Ursula who had cast kindly looks on the thin face which perhaps reminded her of another—now for ever banished from our sight and his also
He hates me because I am a Catholic and wish to become a monk
The youth crossed himself then started and looked round in terror of observers You will not betray me You are a good man Mr Halifax and you spoke warmly for us Tell me—I will keep your secret—are you a Catholic too
No indeed
Ah I hoped you were But you are sure you will not betray me
Mr Halifax smiled at such a possibility Yet in truth there was some reason for the young mans fears since even in those days Catholics were hunted down both by law and by public opinion as virulently as Protestant nonconformists All who kept out of the pale of the national church were denounced as schismatics deists atheists—it was all one
But why do you wish to leave the world
I am sick of it There never was but one in it I cared for or who cared for me—and now—Sancta Maria ora pro nobis
His lips moved in a paroxysm of prayer—helpless parrotlearnt Latin prayer yet being in earnest it seemed to do him good The mother as if she heard in fancy that pitiful cry which rose to my memory too—Poor William—dont tell William—turned and spoke to him kindly asking him if he would go home with us
He looked exceedingly surprised I—you cannot mean it After Lord Luxmore has done you all this evil
Is that any reason why I should not do good to his son—that is if I could Can I
The lad lifted up those soft grey eyes and then I remembered what his sister had said of Lord Ravenels enthusiastic admiration of Mr Halifax Oh you could—you could
But I and mine are heretics you know
I will pray for you Only let me come and see you—you and your children
Come and welcome
Heartily welcome Lord—
No—not that name Mrs Halifax Call me as they used to call me at St Omer—Brother Anselmo
The mother was half inclined to smile but John never smiled at any ones religious beliefs howsoever foolish He held in universal sacredness that one rare thing—sincerity
So henceforward Brother Anselmo was almost domesticated at Rose Cottage What would the earl have said had a little bird flown over to London and told him that his only son the heirapparent to his title and political opinions was in constant and open association—for clandestine acquaintance was against all our laws and rules—with John Halifax the millowner John Halifax the radical as he was still called sometimes imbibing principles modes of life and of thought which to say the least were decidedly different from those of the house of Luxmore
Above all what would that noble parent have said had he been aware that this his only son for whom report whispered he was already planning a splendid marriage—as grand in a financial point of view as that he planned for his only daughter—that Lord Ravenel was spending all the love of his loving nature in the half paternal half loverlike sentiment which a young man will sometimes lavish on a mere child—upon John Halifaxs little blind daughter Muriel
He said She made him good—our child of peace He would sit gazing on her almost as if she were his guardian angel—his patron saint And the little maid in her quiet way was very fond of him delighting in his company when her father was not by But no one ever was to her like her father
The chief bond between her and Lord Ravenel—or Anselmo as he would have us call him—was music He taught her to play on the organ in the empty church close by There during the long midsummer evenings they two would sit for hours in the organgallery while I listened down below hardly believing that such heavenly sounds could come from those small childfingers almost ready to fancy she had called down some celestial harmonist to aid her in playing Since as we used to say—but by some instinct never said now—Muriel was so fond of talking with the angels
Just at this time her father saw somewhat less of her than usual He was oppressed with business cares daily hourly vexations Only twice a week the great waterwheel the delight of our little Edwin as it had once been of his father might be seen slowly turning and the watercourses along the meadows with their mechanicallyforced channels and their pretty sham cataracts were almost always low or dry It ceased to be a pleasure to walk in the green hollow between the two grassy hills which heretofore Muriel and I had liked even better than the Flat Now she missed the noise of the water—the cry of the waterhens—the stirring of the reeds Above all she missed her father who was too busy to come out of his mill to us and hardly ever had a spare minute even for his little daughter
He was setting up that wonderful novelty—a steamengine He had already been to Manchester and elsewhere and seen how the new power was applied by Arkwright Hargreaves and others his own ingenuity and mechanical knowledge furnished the rest He worked early and late—often with his own hands—aided by the men he brought with him from Manchester For it was necessary to keep the secret—especially in our primitive valley—until the thing was complete So the ignorant simple mill people when they came for their easy Saturdays wages only stood and gaped at the mass of iron and the curiouslyshaped brickwork and wondered what on earth the master was about But he was so thoroughly the master with all his kindness that no one ventured either to question or interfere
CHAPTER XXVII
Summer waned Already the beechwood began to turn red and the little yellow autumn flowers to show themselves all over the common while in the midst of them looked up the large purple eye of the groundthistle The mornings grew hazy and dewy We ceased to take Muriel out with us in our slow walk along Johns favourite terrace before any one else was stirring Her father at first missed her sorely but always kept repeating that early walks were not good for children At last he gave up the walk altogether and used to sit with her on his knee in front of the cottage till breakfasttime
After that saying with a kind of jealousy that every one of us had more of his little daughter than he he got into a habit of fetching her down to the mill every day at noon and carrying her about in his arms wherever he went during the rest of his work
Many a time I have seen the rough coarse bluehanded bluepinafored women of the mill stop and look wistfully after master and little blind miss I often think that the quiet way in which the Enderley mill people took the introduction of machinery and the peaceableness with which they watched for weeks the setting up of the steamengine was partly owing to their strong impression of Mr Halifaxs goodness as a father and the vague almost superstitious interest which attached to the pale sweet face of Muriel
Enderley was growing dreary and we began to anticipate the cosy fireside of Longfield
The children will all go home looking better than they came do you not think so Uncle Phineas—especially Muriel
To that sentence I had to answer with a vague assent after which I was fain to rise and walk away thinking how blind love was—all love save mine which had a gift for seeing the saddest side of things
When I came back I found the mother and daughter talking mysteriously apart I guessed what it was about for I had overheard Ursula saying they had better tell the child—it would be something for her to look forward to—something to amuse her next winter
It is a great secret mind the mother whispered after its communication
Oh yes The tiny face smaller than ever I thought flushed brightly But I would much rather have a little sister if you please Only—and the child suddenly grew earnest—will she be like me
Possibly sisters often are alike
No I dont mean that but—you know And Muriel touched her own eyes
I cannot tell my daughter In all things else pray God she may be like you Muriel my darling—my child of peace said Ursula embracing her with tears
After this confidence of which Muriel was very proud and only condescended upon gaining express permission to reconfide it to me she talked incessantly of the sister that was coming until little Maud—the name she chose for her—became an absolute entity in the household
The dignity and glory of being sole depositary of this momentous fact seemed for a time to put new life—bright human life—into this little maid of eleven years old She grew quite womanly as it were tried to help her mother in a thousand little ways and especially by her own solitary branch of feminine industry—poor darling She set on a pair of the daintiest elfin socks that ever were knitted I found them years after—one finished one with the needles all rusty stuck through the fine worsted ball just as the child had laid it out of her hand Ah Muriel Muriel
The father took great delight in this change in her resuming her simple work and going about constantly with her mother
What a comfort she will be to Ursula one day—an eldest daughter always is So will she will she not Uncle Phineas
I smiled assentingly Alas his burthens were heavy enough I think I did right to smile
We must take her down with us to see the steamengine first worked I wish Ursula would have gone home without waiting for tomorrow But there is no fear—my men are so quiet and goodhumoured What in most mills has been a day of outrage and dread is with us quite a festival Boys shall you like to come Edwin my practical lad my lad that is to carry on the mills—will you promise to hold fast by Uncle Phineas if I let you see the steamengine work
Edwin lifted up from his slate bright penetrating eyes He was quite an old man in his ways—wise even from his babyhood and quiet even when Guy snubbed him but I noticed he did not come to kiss and make friends so soon as Guy And though Guy was much the naughtiest we all loved him best Poor Guy he had the frankest warmest tenderest boyheart always struggling to be good and never able to accomplish it
Father cried Guy I want to see the steamengine move but Ill not be a baby like Edwin Ill not hold Uncle Phineas hand
Hereupon ensued one of those summer storms which sometimes swept across the family horizon in the midst of which Muriel and I stole out into the empty church where almost in the dark—which was no dark to her—for a long hour she sat and played By and by the moon looked in showing the great gilt pipes of the organ and the little fairy figure sitting below
Once or twice she stooped from the organloft to ask me where was Brother Anselmo who usually met us in the church of evenings and whom tonight—this last night before the general household moved back to Longfield—we had fully expected
At last he came sat down by me and listened She was playing a fragment of one of his Catholic masses When it ended he called Muriel
Her soft glad answer came down from the gallery
Child play the Miserere I taught you
She obeyed making the organ wail like a tormented soul Truly no tales I ever heard of young Wesley and the infant Mozart ever surpassed the wonderful playing of our blind child
Now the Dies Irae—It will come he muttered to us all
The child struck a few notes heavy and dolorous filling the church like a thundercloud then suddenly left off and opening the flutestop burst into altogether different music
That is Handel—I know that my Redeemer liveth
Exquisitely she played it the clear treble notes seemed to utter like a human voice the very words
I know that my Redeemer liveth and He shall stand
at the latter day upon the earth
And though worms destroy this body yet in my flesh
shall I see God
With that she ceased
More more we both cried
Not now—no more now
And we heard her shutting up the stops and closing the organ lid
But my little Muriel has not finished her tune
She will some day said the child
So she came down from the organloft feeling her way along the aisles and we all went out together locking the churchdoor
Lord Ravenel was rather sad that night he was going away from Luxmore for some time We guessed why—because the earl was coming Bidding us goodbye he said mournfully to his little pet I wish I were not leaving you Will you remember me Muriel
Stoop down I want to see you
This was her phrase for a way she had of passing her extremely sensitive fingers over the faces of those she liked After which she always said she saw them
Yes I shall remember you
And love me
And love you Brother Anselmo
He kissed not her cheek or mouth but her little childhands reverently as if she had been the saint he worshipped or perhaps the woman whom afterwards he would learn to adore Then he went away
Truly said the mother in an amused aside to me as with a kind of motherly pride she watched him walk hastily down between those chestnuttrees known of old—truly time flies fast Things begin to look serious—eh father Five years hence we shall have that young man falling in love with Muriel
But John and I looked at the still soft face half a childs and half an angels
Hush he said as if Ursulas fancy were profanity then eagerly snatched it up and laughed confessing how angry he should be if anybody dared to fall in love with Muriel
Next day was the one fixed for the trial of the new steamengine which trial being successful we were to start at once in a postchaise for Longfield for the mother longed to be at home and so did we all
There was rather a dolorous goodbye and much lamenting from good Mrs Tod who her own bairns grown up thought there were no children worthy to compare with our children And truly as the three boys scampered down the road—their few regrets soon over eager for anything new—three finer lads could not be seen in the whole country
Mrs Halifax looked after them proudly—motherlike she gloried in her sons while John walking slowly and assuring Mrs Tod over and over again that we should all come back next summer went down the steep hill carrying hidden under many wraps and nestled close to his warm shoulder his little frail winterrose—his only daughter
In front of the mill we found a considerable crowd for the time being ripe Mr Halifax had made public the fact that he meant to work his looms by steam the only way in which he could carry on the mill at all The announcement had been received with great surprise and remarkable quietness both by his own workpeople and all along Enderley valley Still there was the usual amount of contemptuous scepticism incident on any new experiment Men were peering about the locked door of the engineroom with a surly curiosity and one village oracle to prove how impossible it was that such a thing as steam could work anything had taken the trouble to light a fire in the yard and set thereon his wifes best teakettle which as she snatched angrily away scalded him slightly and caused him to limp away swearing a painful illustration of the adage that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing
Make way my good people said Mr Halifax and he crossed the millyard his wife on his arm followed by an involuntary murmur of respect
He be a fine fellow the master he sticks at nothing was the comment heard made upon him by one of his people and probably it expressed the feeling of the rest There are few things which give a man more power over his fellows than the thoroughly English quality of daring
Perhaps this was the secret why John had as yet passed safely through the crisis which had been the destruction of so many millowners namely the introduction of a power which the millpeople were convinced would ruin handlabour Or else the folk in our valley out of their very primitiveness had more faith in the master for certainly as John passed through the small crowd there was only one present who raised the old fatal cry of Down with machinery
Who said that
At the masters voice—at the flash of the masters eye—the little knot of workpeople drew back and the malcontent whoever he was shrunk into silence
Mr Halifax walked past them entered his mill and unlocked the door of the room which he had turned into an engineroom and where along with the two men he had brought from Manchester he had been busy almost night and day for this week past in setting up his machinery They worked—as the Manchester fellows said they had often been obliged to work—under lock and key
Your folk be queer uns Mr Halifax They say theres six devils inside on her theer
And the man pointed to the great boiler which had been built up in an outhouse adjoining
Six devils say they—Well Ill be Maister Michael Scot—eh Phineas—and make my devils work hard
He laughed but he was much excited He went over piece by piece the complicated but delicate machinery rubbed here and there at the brasswork which shone as bright as a mirror then stepped back and eyed it with pride almost with affection
Isnt it a pretty thing—If only I have set it up right—if it will but work
His hands shook—his cheeks were burning—little Edwin came peering about at his knee but he pushed the child hastily away then he found some slight fault with the machinery and while the workmen rectified it stood watching them breathless with anxiety His wife came to his side
Dont speak to me—dont Ursula If it fails I am ruined
John—she just whispered his name and the soft firm fold of her fingers closed round his strengthening cheering Her husband faintly smiled
Here—He unlocked the door and called to the people outside Come in two of you fellows and see how my devils work Now then Boys keep out of the way my little girl—his voice softened—my pet will not be frightened Now my men—ready
He opened the valve
With a strange noise that made the two Enderley men spring back as if the six devils were really let loose upon them the steam came rushing into the cylinder There was a slight motion of the pistonrod
Alls right it will work
No it stopped
John drew a deep breath
It went on again beginning to move slowly up and down like the strong right arm of some automaton giant Greater and lesser cogwheels caught up the motive power revolving slowly and majestically and with steady regular rotation or whirling round so fast you could hardly see that they stirred at all Of a sudden a soul had been put into that wonderful creature of mans making that inert mass of wood and metal mysteriously combined The monster was alive
Speechless John stood watching it Their trial over his energies collapsed he sat down by his wifes side and taking Muriel on his knee bent his head over hers
Is all right father the child whispered
All quite right my own
You said you could do it and you have done it cried his wife her eyes glowing with triumph her head erect and proud
John dropped his lower lower still Yes he murmured yes thank God
Then he opened the door and let all the people in to see the wondrous sight
They crowded in by dozens staring about in blank wonder gaping curiosity illdisguised alarm John took pains to explain the machinery stage by stage till some of the more intelligent caught up the principle and made merry at the notion of devils But they all looked with great awe at the master as if he were something more than man They listened openmouthed to every word he uttered cramming the small engineroom till it was scarcely possible to breathe but keeping at a respectful distance from the ironarmed monster that went working working on as if ready and able to work on to everlasting
John took his wife and children out into the open air Muriel who had stood for the last few minutes by her fathers side listening with a pleasing look to the monotonous regular sound like the breathing of the demon was unwilling to go
I am very glad I was with you today—very glad father she kept saying
He said as often—twice as often—that next summer when he came back to Enderley she should be with him at the mills every day and all day over if she liked
There was now nothing to be done but to hasten as quickly and as merrily as possible to our wellbeloved Longfield
Waiting for the postchaise Mrs Halifax and the boys sat down on the bridge over the defunct and silenced waterfall on the muddy steps of which where the stream used to dash musically over weeds and long grasses mingled with the drooping waterfern were already beginning to grow
It looks desolate but we need not mind that now said Mrs Halifax
No her husband answered Steam power once obtained I can apply it in any way I choose My people will not hinder they trust me they like me
And perhaps are just a little afraid of you No matter it is wholesome fear I should not like to have married a man whom nobody was afraid of
John smiled he was looking at the horseman riding towards us along the high road I do believe that is Lord Luxmore I wonder whether he has heard of my steamengine Love will you go back into the mill or not
Certainly not The mother seated herself on the bridge her boys around her John avouched with an air like the mother of the Gracchi or like the Highland woman who trained one son after another to fight and slay their enemy—their fathers murderer
Dont jest said Ursula She was much more excited than her husband Two angry spots burnt on her cheeks when Lord Luxmore came up and in passing bowed
Mrs Halifax returned it haughtily enough But at the moment a loud cheer broke out from the mill hard by and Hurrah for the master Hurrah for Mr Halifax was distinctly heard The mother smiled right proudly
Lord Luxmore turned to his tenant—they might have been on the best terms imaginable from his bland air
What is that rather harsh noise I hear Mr Halifax
It is my men cheering me
Oh how charming so grateful to the feelings And WHY do they cheer you may I ask
John briefly told him speaking with perfect courtesy as he was addressed
And this steamengine—I have heard of it before—will greatly advantage your mills
It will my lord It renders me quite independent of your stream of which the fountains at Luxmore can now have the full monopoly
It would not have been human nature if a spice of harmless malice—even triumph—had not sparkled in Johns eye as he said this He was walking by the horses side as Lord Luxmore had politely requested him
They went a little way up the hill together out of sight of Mrs Halifax who was busy putting the two younger boys into the chaise
I did not quite understand Would you do me the favour to repeat your sentence
Merely my lord that your cutting off of the watercourse has been to me one of the greatest advantages I ever had in my life for which whether meant or not allow me to thank you
The earl looked full in Johns face without answering then spurred his horse violently The animal started off full speed
The children Good God—the children
Guy was in the ditchbank gathering flowers—but Muriel—For the first time in our lives we had forgotten Muriel
She stood in the horses path—the helpless blind child The next instant she was knocked down
I never heard a curse on John Halifaxs lips but once—that once Lord Luxmore heard it too The image of the frantic father snatching up his darling from under the horses heels must have haunted the earls good memory for many a day
He dismounted saying anxiously I hope the little girl is not injured It was accident—you see—pure accident
But John did not hear he would scarcely have heard heavens thunder He knelt with the child in his arms by a little runnel in the ditchbank When the water touched her she opened her eyes with that wide momentary stare so painful to behold
My little darling
Muriel smiled and nestled to him Indeed I am not hurt dear father
Lord Luxmore standing by seemed much relieved and again pressed his apologies
No answer
Go away sobbed out Guy shaking both his fists in the noblemans face Go away—or Ill kill you—wicked man I would have done it if you had killed my sister
Lord Luxmore laughed at the boys fury—threw him a guinea which Guy threw back at him with all his might and rode placidly away
Guy—Guy— called the faint soft voice which had more power over him than any other except his mothers Guy must not be angry Father dont let him be angry
But the father was wholly occupied in Muriel—looking in her face and feeling all her little fragile limbs to make sure that in no way she was injured
It appeared not though the escape seemed almost miraculous John recurred with a kind of trembling tenacity to the old saying in our house that nothing ever harmed Muriel
Since it is safe over and she can walk—you are sure you can my pet—I think we will not say anything about this to the mother at least not till we reach Longfield
But it was too late There was no deceiving the mother Every change in every face struck her instantaneously The minute we rejoined her she said
John something has happened to Muriel
Then he told her making as light of the accident as he could as indeed for the first ten minutes we all believed until alarmed by the extreme pallor and silence of the child
Mrs Halifax sat down by the roadside bathed Muriels forehead and smoothed her hair but still the little curls lay motionless against the mothers breast—and still to every question she only answered that she was not hurt
All this while the postchaise was waiting
What must be done I inquired of Ursula for it was no use asking John anything
We must go back again to Enderley she said decidedly
So giving Muriel into her fathers arms she led the way and a melancholy procession we again ascended the hill to Rose Cottage door
CHAPTER XXVIII
Without any discussion our plans were tacitly changed—no more was said about going home to dear Longfield Every one felt though no one trusted it to words that the journey was impossible For Muriel lay day after day on her little bed in an upper chamber or was carried softly down in the middle of the day by her father never complaining but never attempting to move or talk When we asked her if she felt ill she always answered Oh no only so very tired Nothing more
She is dull for want of the others to play with her The boys should not run out and leave their sister alone said John almost sharply when one bright morning the lads merry voices came down from the Flat while he and I were sitting by Muriels sofa in the still parlour
Father let the boys play without me please Indeed I do not mind I had rather lie quiet here
But it is not good for my little girl always to be quiet and it grieves father
Does it She roused herself sat upright and began to move her limbs but wearily
That is right my darling Now let me see how well you can walk
Muriel slipped to her feet and tried to cross the room catching at table and chairs—now alas not only for guidance but actual support At last she began to stagger and said half crying
I cant walk I am so tired Oh do take me in your arms dear father
Her father took her looked long in her sightless face then buried his against her shoulder saying nothing But I think in that moment he too saw glittering and bare the longveiled Hand which for this year past I had seen stretched out of the immutable heavens claiming that which was its own Ever after there was discernible in Johns countenance a something which all the cares of his anxious yet happy life had never written there—an ineffaceable record burnt in with fire
He held her in his arms all day He invented all sorts of tales and little amusements for her and when she was tired of these he let her lie in his bosom and sleep After her bedtime he asked me to go out with him on the Flat
It was a misty night The very cows and asses stood up large and spectral as shadows There was not a single star to be seen
We took our walk along the terrace and came back again without exchanging a single word Then John said hastily
I am glad her mother was so busy today—too busy to notice
Yes I answered unconnected as his words were
Do you understand me Phineas Her mother must not on any account be led to imagine or to fear—anything You must not look as you looked this morning You must not Phineas
He spoke almost angrily I answered in a few quieting words We were silent until over the common we caught sight of the light in Muriels window Then I felt rather than heard the fathers groan
Oh God my only daughter—my dearest child
Yes she was the dearest I knew it Strange mystery that He should so often take by death or otherwise the DEAREST—always the dearest Strange that He should hear us cry—us writhing in the dust O Father anything anything but this But our Father answers not and meanwhile the desire of our eyes—be it a life a love or a blessing—slowly slowly goes—is gone And yet we have to believe in our Father Perhaps of all trials to human faith this is the sorest Thanks be to God if He puts into our hearts such love towards Him that even while He slays us we can trust Him still
This father—this brokenhearted earthly father—could
When we sat at the suppertable—Ursula John and I the children being all in bed—no one could have told that there was any shadow over us more than the sadlyfamiliar pain of the darling of the house being not so strong as she used to be
But I think she will be John We shall have her quite about again before—
The mother stopped slightly smiling It was indeed an especial mercy of heaven which put that unaccountable blindness before her eyes and gave her other duties and other cares to intercept the thought of Muriel While from morning till night it was the incessant secret care of her husband myself and good Mrs Tod to keep her out of her little daughters sight and prevent her mind from catching the danger of one single fear
Thus within a week or two the mother lay down cheerfully upon her couch of pain and gave another child to the household—a little sister to Muriel
Muriel was the first to whom the news was told Her father told it His natural joy and thankfulness seemed for the moment to efface every other thought
She is come darling little Maud is come I am very rich—for I have two daughters now
Muriel is glad father But she showed her gladness in a strangely quiet meditative way unlike a child—unlike even her old self
What are you thinking of my pet
That—though father has another daughter I hope he will remember the first one sometimes
She is jealous cried John in the curious delight with which he always detected in her any weakness any fault which brought her down to the safe level of humanity See Uncle Phineas our Muriel is actually jealous
But Muriel only smiled
That smile—so serene—so apart from every feeling or passion appertaining to us who are of the earth earthy smote the father to the hearts core
He sat down by her and she crept up into his arms
What day is it father
The first of December
I am glad Little Mauds birthday will be in the same month as mine
But you came in the snow Muriel and now it is warm and mild
There will be snow on my birthday though There always is The snow is fond of me father It would like me to lie down and be all covered over so that you could not find me anywhere
I heard John try to echo her weak soft laugh
This month it will be eleven years since I was born will it not father
Yes my darling
What a long time Then when my little sister is as old as I am I shall be—that is I should have been—a woman grown Fancy me twenty years old as tall as mother wearing a gown like her talking and ordering and busy about the house How funny and she laughed again Oh no father I couldnt do it I had better remain always your little Muriel weak and small who liked to creep close to you and go to sleep in this way
She ceased talking—very soon she was sound asleep But—the father
Muriel faded though slowly Sometimes she was so well for an hour or two that the Hand seemed drawn back into the clouds till of a sudden again we discerned it there
One Sunday—it was ten days or so after Mauds birth and the weather had been so bitterly cold that the mother had herself forbidden our bringing Muriel to the other side of the house where she and the baby lay—Mrs Tod was laying the dinner and John stood at the window playing with his three boys
He turned abruptly and saw all the chairs placed round the table—all save one
Where is Muriels chair Mrs Tod
Sir she says she feels so tired like shed rather not come down today answered Mrs Tod hesitatingly
Not come down
Maybe better not Mr Halifax Look out at the snow Itll be warmer for the dear child tomorrow
You are right Yes I had forgotten the snow She shall come down tomorrow
I caught Mrs Tods eyes they were running over She was too wise to speak of it—but she knew the truth as well as we
This Sunday—I remember it well—was the first day we sat down to dinner with the one place vacant
For a few days longer her father every evening when he came in from the mills persisted in carrying her down as he had said holding her on his knee during tea then amusing her and letting the boys amuse her for halfanhour or so before bedtime But at the weeks end even this ceased
When Mrs Halifax quite convalescent was brought triumphantly to her old place at our happy Sunday dinnertable and all the boys came pressing about her vying which should get most kisses from little sister Maud—she looked round surprised amidst her smiling and asked
Where is Muriel
She seems to feel this bitter weather a good deal John said and I thought it better she should not come down to dinner
No added Guy wondering and dolefully sister has not been down to dinner with us for a great many days
The mother started looked first at her husband and then at me
Why did nobody tell me this
Love—there was nothing new to be told
Has the child had any illness that I do not know of
No
Has Dr Jessop seen her
Several times
Mother said Guy eager to comfort—for naughty as he was sometimes he was the most tenderhearted of all the boys especially to Muriel and to his mother—sister isnt ill a bit I know She was laughing and talking with me just now—saying she knows she could carry baby a great deal better than I could She is as merry as ever she can be
The mother kissed him in her quick eager way—the sole indication of that maternal love which was in her almost a passion She looked more satisfied
Nevertheless when Mrs Tod came into the parlour she rose and put little Maud into her arms
Take baby please while I go up to see Muriel
Dont—now dont please Mrs Halifax cried earnestly the good woman
Ursula turned very pale They ought to have told me she muttered John YOU MUST let me go and see my child
Presently—presently—Guy run up and play with Muriel Phineas take the others with you You shall go upstairs in one minute my darling wife
He turned us all out of the room and shut the door How he told her that which was necessary she should know—that which Dr Jessop himself had told us this very morning—how the father and mother had borne this first open revelation of their unutterable grief—for ever remained unknown
I was sitting by Muriels bed when they came upstairs The darling laid listening to her brother who was squatted on her pillow making all sorts of funny talk There was a smile on her face she looked quite rosy I hoped Ursula might not notice just for the time being the great change the last few weeks had made
But she did—who could ever blindfold a mother For a moment I saw her recoil—then turn to her husband with a dumb piteous desperate look as though to say Help me—my sorrow is more than I can bear
But Muriel hearing the step cried with a joyful cry Mother its my mother
The mother folded her to her breast
Muriel shed a tear or two there—in a satisfied peaceful way the mother did not weep at all Her selfcommand so far as speech went was miraculous For her look—but then she knew the child was blind
Now she said my pet will be good and not cry It would do her harm We must be very happy today
Oh yes Then in a fond whisper Please I do so want to see little Maud
Who with an absent gaze
My little sister Maud—Maud that is to take my place and be everybodys darling now
Hush Muriel said the father hoarsely
A strangely soft smile broke over her face—and she was silent
The new baby was carried upstairs proudly by Mrs Tod all the boys following Quite a levee was held round the bed where laid close beside her her weak hands being guided over the tiny face and form Muriel first saw her little sister She was greatly pleased With a grave eldersisterly air she felt all over the babylimbs and when Maud set up an indignant cry began hushing her with so quaint an imitation of motherliness that we were all amused
Youll be a capital nurse in a month or two my pretty said Mrs Tod
Muriel only smiled How fat she is—and look how fast her fingers take hold And her head is so round and her hair feels so soft—as soft as my doves neck at Longfield What colour is it Like mine
It was nearly the same shade Maud bore the mother declared the strongest likeness to Muriel
I am so glad But these—touching her eyes anxiously
No—my darling Not like you there was the low answer
I am VERY glad Please little Maud dont cry—its only sister touching you How wide open your eyes feel I wonder—with a thoughtful pause—I wonder if you can see me Little Maud I should like you to see sister
She does see of course how she stares cried Guy And then Edwin began to argue to the contrary protesting that as kittens and puppies could not see at first he believed little babies did not which produced a warm altercation among the children gathered round the bed while Muriel lay back quietly on her pillow with her little sister fondly hugged to her breast
The father and mother looked on It was such a picture—these five darlings these children which God had given them—a group perfect and complete in itself like a root of daisies or a branch of ripening fruit which not one could be added to or taken from—
No I was sure from the parents smile that this once Mercy had blinded their eyes so that they saw nothing beyond the present moment
The children were wildly happy All the afternoon they kept up their innocent little games by Muriels bedside she sometimes sharing sometimes listening apart Only once or twice came that wistful absent look as if she were listening partly to us and partly to those we heard not as if through the wideopen orbs the soul were straining at sights wonderful and new—sights unto which HER eyes were the clearseeing and ours the blank and blind
It seems strange now to remember that Sunday afternoon and how merry we all were how we drank tea in the queer bedroom at the top of the house and how afterwards Muriel went to sleep in the twilight with baby Maud in her arms Mrs Halifax sat beside the little bed a sudden blazing up of the fire showing the intentness of her watch over these two her eldest and youngest fast asleep their breathing so soft one hardly knew which was frailest the life slowly fading or the life but just begun Their breaths seemed to mix and mingle and the two faces lying close together to grow into a strange likeness each to each At least we all fancied so
Meanwhile John kept his boys as still as mice in the broad windowseat looking across the white snowy sheet with black bushes peering out here and there to the feathery beechwood over the tops of which the new moon was going down Such a little young moon and how peacefully—nay smilingly—she set among the snows
The children watched her till the very last minute when Guy startled the deep quiet of the room by exclaiming—There—shes gone
Hush
No mother I am awake said Muriel Who is gone Guy
The moon—such a pretty little moon
Ah Maud will see the moon some day She dropped her cheek down again beside the baby sister and was silent once more
This is the only incident I remember of that peaceful heavenly hour
Maud broke upon its quietude by her waking and wailing and Muriel very unwillingly let the little sister go
I wish she might stay with me—just this one night and tomorrow is my birthday Please mother may she stay
We will both stay my darling I shall not leave you again
I am so glad and once more she turned round as if to go to sleep
Are you tired my pet said John looking intently at her
No father
Shall I take your brothers downstairs
Not yet dear father
What would you like then
Only to lie here this Sunday evening among you all
He asked her if she would like him to read aloud as he generally did on Sunday evenings
Yes please and Guy will come and sit quiet on the bed beside me and listen That will be pleasant Guy was always very good to his sister—always
I dont know that said Guy in a consciencestricken tone But I mean to be when I grow a big man—that I do
No one answered John opened the large Book—the Book he had taught all his children to long for and to love—and read out of it their favourite history of Joseph and his brethren The mother sat by him at the fireside rocking Maud softly on her knees Edwin and Walter settled themselves on the hearthrug with great eyes intently fixed on their father From behind him the candlelight fell softly down on the motionless figure in the bed whose hand he held and whose face he every now and then turned to look at—then satisfied continued to read
In the reading his voice had a fatherly flowing calm—as Jacobs might have had when the children were tender and he gathered them all round him under the palmtrees of Succoth—years before he cried unto the Lord that bitter cry—which John hurried over as he read—IF I AM BEREAVED OF MY CHILDREN I AM BEREAVED
For an hour nearly we all sat thus—with the wind coming up the valley howling in the beechwood and shaking the casement as it passed outside Within the only sound was the fathers voice This ceased at last he shut the Bible and put it aside The group—that last perfect household picture—was broken up It melted away into things of the past and became only a picture for evermore
Now boys—it is full time to say goodnight There go and kiss your sister
Which said Edwin in his funny way Weve got two now and I dont know which is the biggest baby
Ill thrash you if you say that again cried Guy Which indeed Maud is but the baby Muriel will be always sister
Sister faintly laughed as she answered his fond kiss—Guy was often thought to be her favourite brother
Now off with you boys and go downstairs quietly—mind I say quietly
They obeyed—that is as literally as boynature can obey such an admonition But an hour after I heard Guy and Edwin arguing vociferously in the dark on the respective merits and future treatment of their two sisters Muriel and Maud
John and I sat up late together that night He could not rest—even though he told me he had left the mother and her two daughters as cosy as a nest of woodpigeons We listened to the wild night till it had almost howled itself away then our fire went out and we came and sat over the last faggot in Mrs Tods kitchen—the old Debateable Land We began talking of the longago time and not of this time at all The vivid present—never out of either mind for an instant—we in our conversation did not touch upon by at least ten years Nor did we give expression to a thought which strongly oppressed me and which I once or twice fancied I could detect in John likewise—how very like this night seemed to the night when Mr March died the same silentness in the house—the same windy whirl without—the same blaze of the woodfire on the same kitchen ceiling
More than once I could almost have deluded myself that I heard the faint moans and footsteps overhead—that the staircase door would open and we should see there Miss March in her white gown and her pale steadfast look
I think the mother seemed very well and calm tonight I said hesitatingly as we were retiring
She is God help her—and us all
He will
This was all we said
He went upstairs the last thing and brought down word that mother and children were all sound asleep
I think I may leave them until daylight tomorrow And now Uncle Phineas go you to bed for you look as tired as tired can be
I went to bed but all night long I had disturbed dreams in which I pictured over and over again first the night when Mr March died—then the night at Longfield when the little white ghost had crossed by my beds foot into the room where Mary Baines dead boy lay And continually towards morning I fancied I heard through my window which faced the church the faint distant sound of the organ as when Muriel used to play it
Long before it was light I rose As I passed the boys room Guy called out to me
Halloa Uncle Phineas is it a fine morning—for I want to go down into the wood and get a lot of beechnuts and fircones for sister Its her birthday today you know
It WAS for her But for us—Oh Muriel our darling—darling child
Let me hasten over the story of that morning for my old heart quails before it still
John went early to the room upstairs It was very still Ursula lay calmly asleep with baby Maud in her bosom on her other side with eyes wide open to the daylight lay—that which for more than ten years we had been used to call blind Muriel She saw now
The same day at evening we three were sitting in the parlour we elders only—it was past the childrens bedtime Grief had spent itself dry we were all very quiet Even Ursula when she came in from fetching the boys candle as had always been her custom and though afterwards I thought I had heard her going upstairs likewise from habit—where there was no need to bid any mothers goodnight now—even Ursula sat in the rockingchair nursing Maud and trying to still her crying with a little foolish babytune that had descended as a family lullaby from one to the other of the whole five—how sad it sounded
John—who sat at the table shading the light from his eyes an open book lying before him of which he never turned one page—looked up at her
Love you must not tire yourself Give me the child
No no Let me keep my baby—she comforts me so And the mother burst into uncontrollable weeping
John shut his book and came to her He supported her on his bosom saying a soothing word or two at intervals or when the paroxysm of her anguish was beyond all bounds supporting her silently till it had gone by never once letting her feel that bitter as her sorrow was his was heavier than hers
Thus during the whole of the day had he been the stay and consolation of the household For himself—the fathers grief was altogether dumb
At last Mrs Halifax became more composed She sat beside her husband her hand in his neither speaking but gazing as it were into the face of this their great sorrow and from thence up to the face of God They felt that He could help them to bear it ay or anything else that it was His will to send—if they might thus bear it together
We all three sat thus and there had not been a sound in the parlour for ever so long when Mrs Tod opened the door and beckoned me
He will come in—hes crazylike poor fellow He has only just heard—
She broke off with a sob Lord Ravenel pushed her aside and stood at the door We had not seen him since the day of that innocent jest about his falling in love with Muriel Seeing us all so quiet and the parlour looking as it always did when he used to come of evenings—the young man drew back amazed
It is not true No it could not be true he muttered
It is true said the father Come in
The mother held out her hand to him Yes come in You were very fond of—
Ah that name—now nothing but a name For a little while we all wept sore
Then we told him—it was Ursula who did it chiefly—all particulars about our darling She told him but calmly as became one on whom had fallen the utmost sorrow and crowning consecration of motherhood—that of yielding up her child a portion of her own being to the corruption of the grave—of resigning the life which out of her own life had been created unto the Creator of all
Surely distinct and peculiar from every other grief every other renunciation must be that of a woman who is thus chosen to give her very flesh and blood the fruit of her own womb unto the Lord
This dignity this sanctity seemed gradually to fall upon the mourning mother as she talked about her lost one repeating often—I tell you this because you were so fond of Muriel
He listened silently At length he said I want to see Muriel
The mother lit a candle and he followed her upstairs
Just the same homely room—halfbedchamber halfnursery—the same little curtainless bed where for a week past we had been accustomed to see the wasted figure and small pale face lying in smiling quietude all day long
It lay there still In it and in the room was hardly any change One of Walters playthings was in a corner of the windowsill and on the chest of drawers stood the nosegay of Christmas roses which Guy had brought for his sister yesterday morning Nay her shawl—a white soft furry shawl that she was fond of wearing—remained still hanging up behind the door One could almost fancy the little maid had just been said goodnight to and left to dream the childish dreams on her nursery pillow where the small head rested so peacefully with that pretty babyish nightcap tied over the pretty curls
There she was the child who had gone out of the number of our children—our earthly children—for ever
Her mother sat down at the side of the bed her father at its foot looking at her Lord Ravenel stood by motionless then stooping down he kissed the small marble hand
Goodbye goodbye my little Muriel
And he left the room abruptly in such an anguish of grief that the mother rose and followed him
John went to the door and locked it almost with a sort of impatience then came back and stood by his darling alone Me he never saw—no nor anything in the world except that little face even in death so strangely like his own The face which had been for eleven years the joy of his heart the very apple of his eye
For a long time he remained gazing in a stupor of silence then sinking on his knee he stretched out his arms across the bed with a bitter cry
Come back to me my darling my firstborn Come back to me Muriel my little daughter—my own little daughter
But thou wert with the angels Muriel—Muriel
CHAPTER XXIX
We went home leaving all that was mortal of our darling sleeping at Enderley underneath the snows
For twelve years after then we lived at Longfield in such unbroken uneventful peace that looking back seems like looking back over a level sea whose leagues of tiny ripples make one smooth glassy plain
Let me recall—as the first wave that rose ominous of change—a certain spring evening when Mrs Halifax and I were sitting as was our wont under the walnuttree The same old walnuttree hardly a bough altered though many of its neighbours and kindred had grown from saplings into trees—even as some of us had grown from children almost into young men
Edwin is late home from Norton Bury said Ursula
So is his father
No—this is just Johns time Hark there are the carriagewheels
For Mr Halifax a prosperous man now drove daily to and from his mills in as tasteful an equipage as any of the country gentry between here and Enderley
His wife went down to the stream to meet him as usual and they came up the fieldpath together
Both were changed from the John and Ursula of whom I last wrote She active and freshlooking still but settling into that fair largeness which is not unbecoming a lady of middleage he inclined to a slight stoop with the lines of his face more sharply defined and the hair wearing away off his forehead up to the crown Though still not a grey thread was discernible in the crisp locks at the back which successively five little ones had pulled and played with and nestled in not a sign of age as yet in fathers curls
As soon as he had spoken to me he looked round as usual for his children and asked if the boys and Maud would be home to tea
I think Guy and Walter never do come home in time when they go over to the manorhouse
Theyre young—let them enjoy themselves said the father smiling And you know love of all our fine friends there are none you so heartily approve of as the Oldtowers
These were not of the former race Good old Sir Ralph had gone to his rest and Sir Herbert reigned in his stead Sir Herbert who in his dignified gratitude never forgot a certain election day when he first made the personal acquaintance of Mr Halifax The manorhouse family brought several other county families to our notice or us to theirs These when Johns fortunes grew rapidly—as many another fortune grew in the beginning of the thirty years peace when unknown petty manufacturers first rose into merchant princes and cotton lords—these gentry made a perceptible distinction often amusing enough to us between John Halifax the tanner of Norton Bury and Mr Halifax the prosperous owner of Enderley Mills Some of them too were clever enough to discover what a pleasant and altogether visitable lady was Mrs Halifax daughter of the late Mr March a governor in the West Indies and cousin of Mr Brithwood of the Mythe But Mrs Halifax with quiet tenacity altogether declined being visited as anything but Mrs Halifax wife of John Halifax tanner or millowner or whatever he might be All honours and all civilities that did not come through him and with him were utterly valueless to her
To this her peculiarity was added another of Johns own namely that all his life he had been averse to what is called society had eschewed acquaintances—and—but most men might easily count upon their fingers the number of those who during a lifetime are found worthy of the sacred name of friend Consequently our circle of associations was far more limited than that of many families holding an equal position with us—on which circumstance our neighbours commented a good deal But little we cared no more than we had cared for the chitchat of Norton Bury Our whole hearts were bound up within our own home—our happy Longfield
I do think this place is growing prettier than ever said John when tea being over—a rather quiet meal without a single child—we elders went out again to the walnuttree bench Certainly prettier than ever and his eye wandered over the quaint low house all odds and ends—for nearly every year something had been built or something pulled down then crossing the smooth bit of lawn Jem Watkinss special pride it rested on the sloping field yellow with tall buttercups wavy with growing grass Let me see—how long have we lived here Phineas you are the one for remembering dates What year was it we came to Longfield
Eighteen hundred and twelve Thirteen years ago
Ah so long
Not too long said Mrs Halifax earnestly I hope we may end our days here Do not you John
He paused a little before answering Yes I wish it but I am not sure how far it would be right to do it
We will not open that subject again said the mother uneasily I thought we had all made up our minds that little Longfield was a thousand times pleasanter than Beechwood grand as it is But John thinks he never can do enough for his people at Enderley
Not that alone love Other reasons combined Do you know Phineas he continued musingly as he watched the sun set over Leckington Hill—sometimes I fancy my life is too easy—that I am not a wise steward of the riches that have multiplied so fast By fifty a man so blest as I have been ought to have done really something of use in the world—and I am fortyfive Once I hoped to have done wonderful things ere I was fortyfive But somehow the desire faded
His wife and I were silent We both knew the truth that calm as had flowed his outer existence in which was omitted not one actual duty still for these twelve years all the high aims which make the glory and charm of life as duties make its strength all the active energies and noble ambitions which especially belong to the prime of manhood in him had been not dead perhaps but sleeping Sleeping beyond the power of any human voice to waken them under the daisies of a childs grave at Enderley
I know not if this was right—but it was scarcely unnatural In that heart which loved as few men love and remembered as few men remember so deep a wound could never be thoroughly healed A certain something in him seemed different ever after as if a portion of the fathers own life had been taken away with Muriel and lay buried in the little dead bosom of his firstborn his dearest child
You forget said Mrs Halifax tenderly—you forget John how much you have been doing and intend to do What with your improvements at Enderley and your Catholic Emancipation—your Abolition of Slavery and your Parliamentary Reform—why there is hardly any scheme for good public or private to which you do not lend a helping hand
A helping purse perhaps which is an easier thing much
I will not have you blaming yourself Ask Phineas there—our household Solomon
Thank you Ursula said I submitting to the not rare fortune of being loved and laughed at
Uncle Phineas what better could John have done in all these years than look after his mills and educate his three sons
Have them educated rather corrected he sensitive over his own painfullygained and limited acquirements Yet this feeling had made him doubly careful to give his boys every possible advantage of study short of sending them from home to which he had an invincible objection And three finer lads or better educated there could not be found in the whole country
I think John Guy has quite got over his fancy of going to Cambridge with Ralph Oldtower
Yes college life would not have done for Guy said the father thoughtfully
Hush we must not talk about them for here come the children
It was now a mere figure of speech to call them so though in their hometaught loving simplicity they would neither have been ashamed nor annoyed at the epithet—these two tall lads who in the dusk looked as manlike as their father
Where is your sister boys
Maud stopped at the stream with Edwin answered Guy rather carelessly His heart had kept its childish faith the youngest pet as she was was never anything to him but little Maud One—whom the boys still talked of softly and tenderly in fireside evening talks when the winter winds came and the snow was falling—one only was ever spoken of by Guy as sister
Maud or Miss Halifax as from the first she was naturally called—as naturally as our lost darling was never called anything else than Muriel—came up hanging on Edwins arm which she was fond of doing both because it happened to be the only arm low enough to suit her childish stature and because she was more especially Edwins girl and had been so always She had grown out of the likeness that we longed for in her cradle days or else we had grown out of the perception of it for though the external resemblance in hair and complexion still remained nothing could be more unlike in spirit than this sprightly elf at once the plague and pet of the family—to our Muriel
Edwins girl stole away with him merrily chattering Guy sat down beside his mother and slipped his arm round her waist They still fondled her with a childlike simplicity—these her almost grownup sons who had never been sent to school for a day and had never learned from other sons of far different mothers that a young mans chief manliness ought to consist in despising the tender charities of home
Guy you foolish boy as she took his cap off and pushed back his hair trying not to look proud of his handsome face what have you been doing all day
Making myself agreeable of course mother
That he has corroborated Walter whose great object of heroworship was his eldest brother He talked with Lady Oldtower and he sang with Miss Oldtower and Miss Grace Never was there such a fellow as our Guy
Nonsense said his mother while Guy only laughed too accustomed to this family admiration to be much disconcerted or harmed thereby
When does Ralph return to Cambridge
Not at all He is going to leave college and be off to help the Greeks Father do you know everybody is joining the Greeks Even Lord Byron is off with the rest I only wish I were
Heaven forbid muttered the mother
Why not I should have made a capital soldier and liked it too better than anything
Better than being my right hand at the mills and your mothers at home—Better than growing up to be our eldest son our comfort and our hope—I think not Guy
You are right father was the answer with an uneasy look For this description seemed less what Guy was than what we desired him to be With his easy happy temper generous but uncertain and his showy brilliant parts he was not nearly so much to be depended on as the grave Edwin who was already a thorough man of business and plodded between Enderley mills and a smaller one which had taken the place of the flour mill at Norton Bury with indomitable perseverance
Guy fell into a brown study not unnoticed by those anxious eyes which lingered oftener upon his face than on that of any of her sons Mrs Halifax said in her quick decisive way that it was time to go in
So the sunset picture outside changed to the homegroup within the mother sitting at her little table where the tall silver candlestick shed a subdued light on her workbasket that never was empty and her busy fingers that never were still The father sat beside her he kept his old habit of liking to have her close to him ay even though he was falling into the middleaged comforts of an armchair and newspaper There he sat sometimes reading aloud or talking sometimes lazily watching her with silent loving eyes that saw beauty in his old wife still
The young folk scattered themselves about the room Guy and Walter at the unshuttered window—we had a habit of never hiding our homelight—were looking at the moon and laying bets sotto voce upon how many minutes she would be in climbing over the oak on the top of Onetree Hill Edwin sat reading hard—his shoulders up to his ears and his fingers stuck through his hair developing the whole of his broad knobbed knotted forehead where Maud declared the wrinkles had already begun to show For Mistress Maud herself she flitted about in all directions interrupting everything and doing nothing
Maud said her father at last I am afraid you give a great deal of trouble to Uncle Phineas
Uncle Phineas tried to soften the fact but the little lady was certainly the most trying of his pupils Her mother she had long escaped from for the advantage of both For to tell the truth while in the invisible atmosphere of moral training the mothers influence was invaluable in the minor branch of lessonlearning there might have been found many a better teacher than Ursula Halifax So the childrens education was chiefly left to me other tutors succeeding as was necessary and it had just begun to be considered whether a lady governess ought not to finish the education of Miss Halifax But always at home Not for all the knowledge and all the accomplishments in the world would these parents have suffered either son or daughter—living souls intrusted them by the Divine Father—to be brought up anywhere out of their own sight out of the shelter and safeguard of their own natural home
Love when I was waiting today in Jessops bank—
Ah that was another change to which we were even yet not familiar the passing away of our good doctor and his wife and his brother and heir turning the old diningroom into a County Bank—open from ten till four
While waiting there I heard of a lady who struck me as likely to be an excellent governess for Maud
Indeed said Mrs Halifax not overenthusiastically Maud became eager to know what the lady was like I at the same time inquiring who she was
Who I really did not ask John answered smiling But of what she is Jessop gave me firstrate evidence—a good daughter who teaches in Norton Bury anybodys children for any sort of pay in order to maintain an ailing mother Ursula you would let her teach our Maud I know
Is she an Englishwoman—For Mrs Halifax prejudiced by a certain French lady who had for a few months completely upset the peace of the manorhouse and even slightly tainted her own favourite pretty Grace Oldtower had received coldly this governess plan from the beginning Would she have to live with us
I think so decidedly
Then it cant be The house will not accommodate her It will hardly hold even ourselves No we cannot take in anybody else at Longfield
But—we may have to leave Longfield
The boys here turned to listen for this question had already been mooted as all family questions were In our house we had no secrets the young folk being trusted were ever trustworthy and the parents cleanhanded and purehearted had nothing that they were afraid to tell their children
Leave Longfield repeated Mrs Halifax surely—surely— But glancing at her husband her tone of impatience ceased
He sat gazing into the fire with an anxious air
Dont let us discuss that question—at least not tonight It troubles you John Put it off till tomorrow
No that was never his habit He was one of the very few who a thing being to be done will not trust it to uncertain tomorrows His wife saw that he wanted to talk to her and listened
Yes the question does trouble me a good deal Whether now that our children are growing up and our income is doubling and trebling year by year we ought to widen our circle of usefulness or close it up permanently within the quiet bound of little Longfield Love which say you
The latter the latter—because it is far the happiest
I am afraid NOT the latter because it IS the happiest
He spoke gently laying his hand on his wifes shoulder and looking down on her with that peculiar look which he always had when telling her things that he knew were sore to hear I never saw that look on any living face save Johns but I have seen it once in a picture—of two Huguenot lovers The woman is trying to fasten round the mans neck the white badge that will save him from the massacre of St Bartholomew—he clasping her the while gently puts it aside—not stern but smiling That quiet tender smile firmer than any frown will you feel sure soon control the womans anguish so that she will sob out—any faithful woman would—Go die Dearer to me than even thyself are thy honour and thy duty
When I saw this noble picture it touched to the core this old heart of mine—for the painter in that rare expression might have caught Johns Just as in a few crises of his life I have seen it and especially in this one when he first told to his wife that determination which he had slowly come to—that it was both right and expedient for us to quit Longfield our happy home for so many years of which the mother loved every flower in the garden every nook and stone in the walls
Leave Longfield she repeated again with a bitter sigh
Leave Longfield echoed the children first the youngest then the eldest but rather in curiosity than regret Edwins keen bright eyes were just lifted from his book and fell again he was not a lad of much speech or much demonstration of any kind
Boys come and let us talk over the matter
They came at once and joined in the circle respectfully yet with entire freedom they looked towards their father—these the sons of his youth to whom he had been from their birth not only parent and head but companion guide and familiar friend They honoured him they trusted him they loved him not perhaps in the exact way that they loved their mother for it often seems Natures own ordinance that a mothers influence should be strongest over her sons while the fathers is greatest over his daughters But even a stranger could not glance from each to each of those attentive faces so different yet with a curious family look running through them all without seeing in what deep reverent affection such as naturally takes the place of childish fondness these youths held their father
Yes I am afraid after much serious thought on the matter and much consultation with your mother here—that we ought to leave Longfield
So I think said Mistress Maud from her footstool which putting forward of her important opinion shook us all from gravity to merriment that compelled even Mrs Halifax to join Then laying aside her work and with it the saddened air with which she had bent over it she drew her chair closer to her husband slipping her hand in his and leaning against his shoulder Upon which Guy who had at first watched his mother anxiously doubtful whether or no his fathers plan had her approval and therefore ought to be assented to—relapsed into satisfied undivided attention
I have again been over Beechwood Hall You all remember Beechwood
Yes It was the great house at Enderley just on the slope of the hill below Rose Cottage The beechwood itself was part of its pleasure ground and from its gardens honest James Tod who had them in keeping had brought many a pocketful of pears for the boys many a sweetscented nosegay for Muriel
Beechwood has been empty a great many years father Would it be a safe investment to buy it
I think so Edwin my practical lad answered the father smiling What say you children Would you like living there
Each one made his or her comment Guys countenance brightened at the notion of lots of shooting and fishing about Enderley especially at Luxmore and Maud counted on the numerous visitors that would come to John Halifax Esquire of Beechwood Hall
Neither of which excellent reasons happen to be your fathers said Mrs Halifax shortly But John often tenderer over youthful frivolities than she answered
I will tell you boys what are my reasons When I was a young man before your mother and I were married indeed before I had ever seen her I had strongly impressed on my mind the wish to gain influence in the world—riches if I could—but at all events influence I thought I could use it well better than most men those can best help the poor who understand the poor And I can since you know when Uncle Phineas found me I was—
Father said Guy flushing scarlet we may as well pass over that fact We are gentlefolks now
We always were my son
The rebuke out of its very mildness cut the youth to the heart He dropped his eyes colouring now with a different and a holier shame
I know that Please will you go on father
And now the father continued speaking as much out of his own thoughts as aloud to his children—now twentyfive years of labour have won for me the position I desired That is I might have it for the claiming I might take my place among the men who have lately risen from the people to guide and help the people—the Cannings Huskissons Peels
Would you enter parliament Sir Herbert asked me today if you ever intended it He said there was nothing you might not attain to if you would give yourself up entirely to politics
No Guy no Wisdom like charity begins at home Let me learn to rule in my own valley among my own people before I attempt to guide the state And that brings me back again to the pros and cons about Beechwood Hall
Tell them John tell all out plainly to the children
The reasons were—first the advantage of the boys themselves for John Halifax was not one of those philanthropists who would benefit all the world except their own household and their own kin He wished—since the higher a man rises the wider and nobler grows his sphere of usefulness—not only to lift himself but his sons after him lift them high enough to help on the everadvancing tide of human improvement among their own people first and thence extending outward in the world whithersoever their talents or circumstances might call them
I understand cried the eldest son his eyes sparkling you want to found a family And so it shall be—we will settle at Beechwood Hall all coming generations shall live to the honour and glory of your name—our name—
My boy there is only one Name to whose honour we should all live One Name in whom all the generations of the earth are blessed In thus far only do I wish to found a family as you call it that our light may shine before men—that we may be a city set on a hill—that we may say plainly unto all that ask us For me and my house we will serve the Lord
It was not often that John Halifax spoke thus adopting solemnly the literal language of the Book—his and our lifes guide no word of which was ever used lightly in our family We all listened as in his earnestness he rose and standing upright in the firelight spoke on
I believe with His blessing that one may serve the Lord as well in wealth as in poverty in a great house as in a cottage like this I am not doubtful even though my possessions are increased I am not afraid of being a rich man Nor a great man neither if I were called to such a destiny
It may be—who knows said Ursula softly
John caught his wifes eyes and smiled
Love you were a true prophet once with a certain Yes you will but now—Children you know when I married your mother I had nothing and she gave up everything for me I said I would yet make her as high as any lady in the land—in fortune I then meant thinking it would make her happier but she and I are wiser now We know that we never can be happier than we were in the old house at Norton Bury or in this little Longfield By making her lady of Beechwood I should double her responsibilities and treble her cares give her an infinitude of new duties and no pleasures half so sweet as those we leave behind Still of herself and for herself my wife shall decide
Ursula looked up at him tears stood in her eyes though through them shone all the steadfastness of faithful love Thank you John I have decided If you wish it if you think it right we will leave Longfield and go to Beechwood
He stooped and kissed her forehead saying only We will go
Guy looked up halfreproachfully as if the father were exacting a sacrifice but I question whether the greater sacrifice were not his who took rather than hers who gave
So all was settled—we were to leave beloved Longfield It was to be let not sold let to a person we knew who would take jealous care of all that was ours and we might come back and see it continually but it would be ours—our own home—no more
Very sad—sadder even than I had thought—was the leaving all the familiar things the orchard and the flowergarden the meadow and the stream the woody hills beyond every line and wave of which was pleasant and dear almost as our childrens faces Ay almost as that face which for a year—one little year had lived in sight of but never beheld their beauty the child who one spring day had gone away merrily out of the white gate with her three brothers and never came back to Longfield any more
Perhaps this circumstance that her fading away and her departure happened away from home was the cause why her memory—the memory of our living Muriel in her human childhood—afterwards clung more especially about the house at Longfield The other children altered imperceptibly yet so swiftly that from year to year we half forgot their old likenesses But Muriels never changed Her image only a shade yet often more real than any of these living children seemed perpetually among us It crept through the house at dusk in winter firelight it sat smiling in dim corners in spring mornings it moved about the garden borders with tiny soft footsteps neither seen nor heard The others grew up—would be men and women shortly—but the one child that was not remained to us always a child
I thought even the last evening—the very last evening that John returned from Enderley and his wife went down to the stream to meet him and they came up the field together as they had done so for many many years—ay even then I thought I saw his eyes turn to the spot where a little pale figure used to sit on the doorsill listening and waiting for him with her dove in her bosom We never kept doves now
And the same night when all the household was in bed—even the mother who had gone about with a restless activity trying to persuade herself that there would be at least no possibility of accomplishing the flitting tomorrow—the last night when John went as usual to fasten the housedoor he stood a long time outside looking down the valley
How quiet everything is You can almost hear the tinkle of the stream Poor old Longfield And I sighed thinking we should never again have such another home
John did not answer He had been mechanically bending aside and training into its place a long shoot of wild clematis—virgins bower which Guy and Muriel had brought in from the fields and planted a tiny root it covered the whole front of the house now Then he came and leaned beside me over the wicketgate looking fixedly up into the moonlight blue
I wonder if she knows we are leaving Longfield
Who said I for a moment forgetting
The child
CHAPTER XXX
Father and son—a goodly sight as they paced side by side up and down the gravel walk—alas the pretty fieldpath belonged to days that were—up and down the broad sunshiny walk in front of the breakfastroom windows of Beechwood Hall
It was early—little past eight oclock but we kept Longfield hours and Longfield ways still And besides this was a grand day—the day of Guys coming of age Curious it seemed to watch him as he walked along by his father looking every inch the young heir and perhaps not unconscious that he did so—curious enough remembering how meekly the boy had come into the world at a certain old house at Norton Bury one rainy December morning twentyone years ago
It was a bright day today—bright as all our faces were I think as we gathered round the cosy breakfasttable There as heretofore it was the mothers pride and the fathers pleasure that not one face should be missing—that summer and winter all should assemble for an hour of family fun and family chat before the busy cares of the day and by general consent which had grown into habit every one tried to keep unclouded this little bit of early sunshine before the father and brothers went away No sour or dreary looks no painful topics were ever brought to the breakfasttable
Thus it was against all custom when Mr Halifax laying down his paper with a grave countenance said
This is very ill news Ten Bank failures in the Gazette today
But it will not harm us father
Edwin is always thinking of us and our business remarked Guy rather sharply It was one of the slight—the very slight—jars in our household that these two lads excellent lads both as they grew into manhood did not exactly pull together
Edwin is scarcely wrong in thinking of us since upon us depend so many observed the father in that quiet tone with which when he did happen to interfere between his sons he generally smoothed matters down and kept the balance even Yet though we are ourselves secure I trust the losses everywhere around us make it the more necessary that we should not parade our good fortune by launching out into any of Guys magnificences—eh my boy
The youth looked down It was well known in the family that since we came to Beechwood his pleasureloving temperament had wanted all sorts of improvements on our style of living—foxhounds dinnerparties balls that the fathers ways which though extended to liberal hospitalities forbade outward show and made our life a thorough family life still—were somewhat distasteful to that most fascinating young gentleman Guy Halifax Esquire heir of Beechwood Hall
You may call it magnificence or what you choose but I know I should like to live a little more as our neighbours do And I think we ought too—we that are known to be the wealthiest family—
He stopped abruptly—for the door opened and Guy had too much good taste and good feeling to discuss our riches before Mauds poor governess—the tall grave sadlooking sadclothed Miss Silver the same whom John had seen at Mr Jessops bank and who had been with us four months—ever since we came to Beechwood
One of the boys rose and offered her a chair for the parents set the example of treating her with entire respect—nay would gladly have made her altogether one of the family had she not been so very reserved
Miss Silver came forward with the daily nosegay which Mrs Halifax had confided to her superintendence
They are the best I can find madam—I believe Watkins keeps all his greenhouse flowers for tonight
Thank you my dear These will do very well—Yes Guy persuade Miss Silver to take your place by the fire She looks so cold
But Miss Silver declining the kindness passed on to her own seat opposite
Ursula busied herself over the breakfast equipage rather nervously Though an admirable person Miss Silver in her extreme and all but repellant quietness was one whom the mother found it difficult to get on with She was scrupulously kind to her and the governess was as scrupulously exact in all courtesy and attention still that impassible selfcontained demeanour that great reticence—it might be shyness it might be pride—sometimes Ursula privately admitted fidgeted her
Today was to be a general holiday for both masters and servants a dinner at the mills and in the evening something which though we call it a teadrinking began to look I was amused to see exceedingly like a ball But on this occasion both parents had yielded to their young peoples wishes and half the neighbourhood had been invited by the universallypopular Mr Guy Halifax to celebrate his coming of age
Only once in a way said the mother half ashamed of herself for thus indulging the boy—as giving his shoulder a fond shake she called him a foolish fellow
Then we all dispersed Guy and Walter to ride to the manorhouse Edwin vanishing with his sister to whom he was giving daily Latin lessons in the schoolroom
John asked me to take a walk on the hill with him
Go Phineas whispered his wife—it will do him good And dont let him talk too much of old times This is a hard week for him
The mothers eyes were mournful for Guy and the child had been born within a year and three days of each other but she never hinted—it never would have struck her to hint—this is a hard week for ME
That grief—the one great grief of their life had come to her more wholesomely than to her husband either because men the very best of men can only suffer while women can endure or because in the mysterious ordinance of nature Mauds baby lips had sucked away the bitterness of the pang from the bereaved mother while her loss was yet new It had never been left to rankle in that warm heart which had room for every living child while it cherished in tenderness above all sorrow the child that was no more
John and I in our walk stood a moment by the low churchyard wall and looked over at that plain white stone where was inscribed her name Muriel Joy Halifax—a line out of that New Testament miraclestory she delighted in WHEREAS I WAS BLIND NOW I SEE—and the date when SHE SAW Nothing more it was not needed
December 5 1813 said the father reading the date She would have been quite a woman now How strange My little Muriel
And he walked thoughtfully along almost in the same footprints where he had been used to carry his darling up the hillside to the brow of Enderley Flat He seemed in fancy to bear her in his arms still—this little one whom as I have before said Heaven in its compensating mercy year by year through all changes had made the one treasure that none could take away—the one child left to be a child for ever
I think as we rested in the selfsame place the sunshiny nook where we used to sit with her for hours together the fathers heart took this consolation so closely and surely into itself that memory altogether ceased to be pain He began talking about the other children—especially Maud—and then of Miss Silver her governess
I wish she were more likeable John It vexes me sometimes to see how coldly she returns the mothers kindness
Poor thing—she has evidently not been used to kindness You should have seen how amazed she looked yesterday when we paid her a little more than her salary and my wife gave her a pretty silk dress to wear tonight I hardly knew whether she would refuse it or burst out crying—in girlish fashion
Is she a girl Why the boys say she looks thirty at least Guy and Walter laugh amazingly at her dowdy dress and her solemn haughty ways
That will not do Phineas I must speak to them They ought to make allowance for poor Miss Silver of whom I think most highly
I know you do but do you heartily like her
For most things yes And I sincerely respect her or of course she would not be here I think people should be as particular over choosing their daughters governess as their sons wife and having chosen should show her almost equal honour
Youll have your sons choosing themselves wives soon John I fancy Guy has a soft place in his heart for that pretty Grace Oldtower
But the father made no answer He was always tenacious over the slightest approach to such jests as these And besides just at this moment Mr Brown Lord Luxmores steward passed—riding solemnly along He barely touched his hat to Mr Halifax
Poor Mr Brown He has a grudge against me for those Mexican speculations I refused to embark in he did and lost everything but what he gets from Lord Luxmore I do think Phineas the country has been running mad this year after speculation There is sure to come a panic afterwards and indeed it seems already beginning
But you are secure You have not joined in the mania the crash cannot harm you Did I not hear you say that you were not afraid of losing a single penny
Yes—unfortunately with a troubled smile
John what do you mean
I mean that to stand upright while ones neighbours are falling on all sides is a most trying position Misfortune makes people unjust The other day at the sessions I got cold looks enough from my brother magistrates—looks that would have set my blood boiling twenty years ago And—you saw in the Norton Bury Mercury that article about grasping plebeian millionaires—woolspinners spinning out of their countrys vitals Thats meant for me Phineas Dont look incredulous Yes—for me
How disgraceful
Perhaps so—but to them more than to me I feel sorry because of the harm it may do me—especially among working people who know nothing but what they hear and believe everything that is told them They see I thrive and others fail—that my mills are the only cloth mills in full work and I have more hands than I can employ Every week I am obliged to send newcomers away Then they raise the old cry—that my machinery has ruined labour So you see for all that Guy says about our prosperity his father does not sleep exactly upon a bed of roses
It is wicked—atrocious
Not at all Only natural—the penalty one has to pay for success It will die out most likely meantime we will mind it as little as we can
But are you safe—your life— For a sudden fear crossed me—a fear not unwarranted by more than one event of this year—this terrible 1825
Safe—Yes— and his eyes were lifted I believe my life is safe—if I have work to do Still for others sake I have carried this month past whenever I go to and from the Coltham bank besides my cashbox—this
He showed me peering out of his breastpocket a small pistol
I was greatly startled
Does your wife know
Of course But she knows too that nothing but the last extremity would force me to use it also that my carrying it and its being noised about that I do so may prevent my ever having occasion to use it God grant I never may Dont let us talk about this
He stopped gazing with a sad abstraction down the sunshiny valley—most part of which was already his own property For whatever capital he could spare from his business he never sunk in speculation but took a patriarchal pleasure in investing it in land chiefly for the benefit of his mills and those concerned therein
My poor people—they might have known me better But I suppose one never attains ones desire without its being leavened with some bitterness If there was one point I was anxious over in my youth it was to keep up through life a name like the Chevalier Bayard—how folk would smile to hear of a tradesman emulating Bayard—sans peur et sans reproche And so things might be—ought to be So perhaps they shall be yet in spite of this calumny
How shall you meet it What shall you do
Nothing Live it down
He stood still looking across the valley to where the frosty line of the hilltops met the steelblue steadfast sky Yes I felt sure he WOULD live it down
We dismissed the subject and spent an hour more in pleasant chat about many things Passing homeward through the beechwood where through the bare treetops a light snow was beginning to fall John said musingly
It will be a hard winter—we shall have to help our poor people a great deal Christmas dinners will be much in request
Theres a saying that the way to an Englishmans heart is through his stomach So perhaps youll get justice by spring
Dont be angry Phineas As I tell my wife it is not worth while Half the wrongs people do to us are through sheer ignorance We must be patient IN YOUR PATIENCE POSSESS YE YOUR SOULS
He said this more to himself than aloud as if carrying out the thread of his own thought Mine following it and observing him involuntarily turned to another passage in our Book of books about the blessedness of some men even when reviled and persecuted
Ay and for all his many cares John Halifax looked like a man who was blessed
Blessed and happy too throughout that day especially in the midst of the millyard dinner—which reminded me forcibly of that feast at which guests were gathered out of the highways and hedges—guests such as John Halifax liked to have—guests who could not by any possibility recompense him Yet it did ones heart good to hear the cheer that greeted the master ay and the young master too who was today for the first time presented as such as the firm henceforward was to be Halifax and Son
And full of smiling satisfaction was the fathers look when in the evening he stood in the midst of his children waiting for Guys visitors as he pertinaciously declared them to be—these fine people for whose entertainment our house had been these three days turned upside down the sober old diningroom converted into a glittering ballroom and the entrancehall a very bower of bliss—all green boughs and Chinese lanterns John protested he should not have known his own study again and that if these festive transformations were to happen frequently he should soon not even know himself
Yet for all that and in spite of the comical horror he testified at this first bouleversement of our quiet home ways I think he had a real pleasure in his childrens delight in wandering with them through the decorated rooms tapestried with ivy and laurel and arbor vitae in making them all pass in review before him and admiring their handiwork and themselves
A goodly group they made—our young folk there were no children now—for even Maud who was tall and womanly for her age had bloomed out in a ball dress all white muslin and camellias and appeared every inch Miss Halifax Walter too had lately eschewed jackets and began to borrow razors while Edwin though still small had a keen oldmanlike look which made him seem—as he was indeed in character—the eldest of the three Altogether they were a fine family such as any man might rejoice to see growing or grown up around him
But my eyes naturally sought the father as he stood among his boys taller than any of them and possessing far more than they that quality for which John Halifax had always been remarkable—dignity True Nature had favoured him beyond most men giving him the stately handsome presence befitting middle age throwing a kind of apostolic grace over the high halfbald crown and touching with a softened grey the still curly locks behind But these were mere accidents the true dignity lay in himself and his own personal character independent of any exterior
It was pleasant to watch him and note how advancing years had given rather than taken away from his outward mien As ever he was distinguishable from other men even to his dress—which had something of the Quaker about it still in its sober colour its rarelychanged fashion and its exceeding neatness Mrs Halifax used now and then to laugh at him for being so particular over his daintiest of cambric and finest of lawn—but secretly she took the greatest pride in his appearance
John looks well tonight she said coming in and sitting down by me her eyes following mine One would not have guessed from her quiet gaze that she knew—what John had told me she knew this morning But these two in their perfect union had a wonderful strength—a wonderful fearlessness And she had learned from him—what perhaps originally was foreign to her impressible and somewhat anxious mind—that steadfast faith which while ready to meet every ill when the time comes until the time waits cheerfully and will not disquiet itself in vain
Thus for all their cares her face as well as his was calm and bright Bright even with the prettiest girlish blush when John came up to his wife and admired her—as indeed was not surprising
She laughed at him and declared she always intended to grow lovely in her old age I thought I ought to dress myself grandly too on Guys birthday Do you like me John
Very much I like that black velvet gown substantial soft and rich without any show And that lace frill round your throat—what sort of lace is it
Valenciennes When I was a girl if I had a weakness it was for black velvet and Valenciennes
John smiled with visible pleasure that she had even a weakness gratified now And you have put on my brooch at last I see
Yes but— and she shook her head—remember your promise
Phineas this wife of mine is a vain woman She knows her own price is far above rubies—or diamonds either No Mrs Halifax be not afraid I shall give you no more jewels
She did not need them She stood amidst her three sons with the smile of a Cornelia She felt her husbands eyes rest on her with that quiet perfectness of love—better than any lovers love—
The fulness of a stream that knew no fall—
the love of a husband who has been married nearly twentyfive years
Here a troop of company arrived and John left me to assume his duty as host
No easy duty as I soon perceived for times were hard and mens minds troubled Every one except the lightheeled lighthearted youngsters looked grave
Many yet alive remember this year—1825—the panic year War having ceased commerce in its worst form started into sudden and unhealthy overgrowth Speculations of all kinds sprung up like fungi out of dead wood flourished a little and dropped away Then came ruin not of hundreds but thousands of all ranks and classes This year and this month in this year the breaking of many established firms especially bankers told that the universal crash had just begun
It was felt even in our retired country neighbourhood and among our friendly guests this night both gentle and simple—and there was a mixture of both as only a man in Mr Halifaxs position could mix such heterogeneous elements—townspeople and countrypeople dissenters and churchfolk professional men and men of business John dared to do it—and did it But though through his own personal influence many of different ranks whom he liked and respected meeting in his own house learned to like and respect one another still even tonight he could not remove the cloud which seemed to hang over all—a cloud so heavy that none present liked referring to it They hit upon all sorts of extraneous subjects keeping far aloof from the one which evidently pressed upon all minds—the universal distress abroad the fear that was knocking at almost every mans door but ours
Of course the talk fell on our neighbours—country talk always does I sat still listening to Sir Herbert Oldtower who was wondering that Lord Luxmore suffered the Hall to drop into disgraceful decay and had begun cutting down the pinewoods round it
Woods older than his title by many a century—downright sacrilege And the property being entailed too—actual robbery of the heir But I understand anybody may do anything with Lord Ravenel—a mere selfish cynical idle voluptuary
Indeed you are mistaken Sir Herbert cried Mr Jessop of Norton Bury—a very honest fellow was Josiah Jessop He banks with me—that is there are some poor Catholics in this neighbourhood whom I pay—but bless me he told me not to tell No indeed Cynical he may be idle perhaps—most men of fashion are—but Lord Ravenel is not the least like his father—is he Mr Halifax
I have not seen Lord Ravenel for many years
And as if even to this day the mention of the young mans name brought back thoughts of the last day we had seen him—a day which its sadness having gone by still kept its unspoken sacredness distinct from all other days—John moved away and went and talked to a girl whom both he and the mother liked above most young girls we knew—simple sunnyfaced Grace Oldtower
Dancing began Spite of my Quaker education or perhaps for that very reason I delighted to see dancing Dancing such as it was then when young folk moved breezily and lightly as if they loved it skimming like swallows down the long lines of the Triumph—gracefully winding in and out through the graceful country dance—lively always but always decorous In those days people did not think it necessary to the pleasures of dancing that any stranger should have liberty to snatch a shy innocent girl round the waist and whirl her about in mad waltz or awkward polka till she stops giddy and breathless with burning cheek and tossed hair looking—as I would not have liked to see our pretty Maud look
No though while watching the little lady tonight I was inclined to say to her
When you do dance I wish you
A wave o the sea that you might ever do
Nothing but that
And in her unwearied spirits she seemed as if she would readily have responded to the wish
We did not see Guy among the dancers who were now forming in a somewhat confused square in order to execute a new dance called quadrilles of which Miss Grace Oldtower was to be the instructress
Where is Guy said the mother who would have missed him among a room full of people Have you seen Guy anywhere Miss Silver
Miss Silver who sat playing tunes—she had declined dancing—turned colouring visibly
Yes I have seen him he is in the study
Would you be so kind as to fetch him
The governess rose and crossed the room with a stately walk—statelier than usual Her silk gown of some rich soft colour fashioned after Mrs Halifaxs taste and the chaplet of bayleaves which Maud had insisted upon putting in her dark hair made an astonishing change in Miss Silver I could not help noticing it to Mrs Halifax
Yes indeed she looks well John says her features are fine but for my part I dont care for your statuesque faces I like colour—expression See that bright little Grace Oldtower—a thoroughly English rose—I like HER Poor Miss Silver I wish—
What out of compunction for a certain sharpness with which she had spoken Mrs Halifax was about to wish remained undeclared For just this minute Guy entered and leaning his handsome head and his tender petits soins over the English rose as his mother called her led her out to the dancing
We sat down and looked on
Guy dances lazily he is rather pale too I fancy
Tired probably He was out far too long on the ice today with Maud and Miss Silver What a pretty creature his partner is added Ursula thoughtfully
The children are growing up fast I said
Ay indeed To think that Guy is actually twentyone—the age when his father was married
Guy will be reminding you of that fact some day soon
Mrs Halifax smiled The sooner the better if only he makes a worthy choice—if only he brings me a daughter whom I can love
And I fancied there was love—motherly love—in the eyes that followed through the graceful mazes of her dancing the bonny English rose
Guy and his partner sat down beside us His mother noticed that he had turned very pale again and the lad owned to be in some pain he had twisted his foot that morning in helping Maud and Miss Silver across the ice but it was a mere trifle—not worth mentioning
It passed over with one or two anxious inquiries on the mothers part and a soft dewy shadow over the downdropped cheek of the little rose who evidently did not like to think of any harm coming to her old playfellow Then Sir Herbert appeared to lead Mrs Halifax in to supper Guy limped along with pretty Grace on his arm and all the guests just enough to fill our longest table in Johns study came thronging round in a buzz of mirthfulness
Either the warm hospitable atmosphere or the sight of the merry youngsters or the general influence of social pleasantness had for the time being dispelled the cloud But certainly it was dispelled The master of the feast looked down two long lines of happy faces—his own as bright as theirs—down to where at the foot of the table the mother and mistress sat She had been slightly nervous at times during the evening but now she appeared thoroughly at ease and glad—glad to see her husband take his place at the head of his own hospitable board in the midst of his own friends and his own people honoured and beloved It seemed a good omen—an omen that the bitter things outside would pass away
How bitter they had been and how sore the wifes heart still felt I could see from the jealous way in which smiling and cheerful as her demeanour was she caught every look every word of those around her which might chance to bear reference to her husband in her quick avoidance of every topic connected with these disastrous times and above all in her hurried grasp of a newspaper that some careless servant brought in fresh from the nightmail wet with sleet and snow
Do you get your country paper regularly asked some one at table And then some others appeared to recollect the Norton Bury Mercury and its virulent attacks on their host—for there ensued an awkward pause during which I saw Ursulas face beginning to burn But she conquered her wrath
There is often much interest in our provincial papers Sir Herbert My husband makes a point of taking them all in—bad and good—of every shade of politics He believes it is only by hearing all sides that you can truly judge of the state of the country
Just as a physician must hear all symptoms before he decides on the patients case At least so our good old friend Doctor Jessop used to say
Eh said Mr Jessop the banker catching his own name and waking up from a brown study in which he had seemed to see nothing—except perhaps the newspaper which in its printed cover lay between himself and Mrs Halifax Eh did any one—Oh I beg pardon—beg pardon—Sir Herbert hastily added the old man who was a very meek and worthy soul and had been perhaps more subdued than usual this evening
I was referring said Sir Herbert with his usual ponderous civility to your excellent brother who was so much respected among us—for which respect allow me to say he did not leave us without an inheritor
The old banker answered the formal bow with a kind of nervous hurry and then Sir Herbert with a loud premise of his right as the oldest friend of our family tried to obtain silence for the customary speech prefatory to the customary toast of Health and prosperity to the heir of Beechwood
There was great applause and filling of glasses great smiling and whispering everybody glancing at poor Guy who turned red and white and evidently wished himself a hundred miles off In the confusion I felt my sleeve touched and saw leaning towards me hidden by Mauds laughing happy face the old banker He held in his hand the newspaper which seemed to have so fascinated him
Its the London Gazette Mr Halifax gets it three hours before any of us I may open it It is important to me Mrs Halifax would excuse eh
Of course she would Especially if she had seen the old mans look as his trembling fingers vainly tried to unfold the sheet without a single rustles betraying his surreptitious curiosity
Sir Herbert rose cleared his throat and began
Ladies and gentlemen I speak as a father myself and as son of a father whom—whom I will not refer to here except to say that his good heart would have rejoiced to see this day The high esteem in which Sir Ralph always held Mr Halifax has descended and will descend—
Here some one called out
Mr Jessop Look at Mr Jessop
The old man had suddenly sank back with a sort of choking groan His eyes were staring blankly his cheek was the colour of ashes But when he saw every one looking at him he tried desperately to recover himself
Tis nothing Nothing of the slightest moment Eh clutching tightly at the paper which Mrs Halifax was kindly removing out of his hand Theres no news in it—none I assure you
But from his agitation—from the pitiful effort he made to disguise it—it was plain enough that there was news Plain also as in these dangerous and critical times men were only too quick to divine in what that news consisted Tidings which now made every newspaper a sight of fear—especially this—the London Gazette
Edwin caught and read the fatal page—the fatal column—known only too well
W——s have stopped payment
W——s was a great London house the favourite bankinghouse in our country with which many provincial banks and Jessops especially were widely connected and would be no one knew how widely involved
W——s stopped payment
A murmur—a hush of momentary suspense as the Gazette was passed hurriedly from hand to hand and then our guests one and all sat looking at one another in breathless fear suspicion or assured dismay For as every one was aware we knew our neighbours affairs so well about innocent Enderley there was not a single household of that merry little company upon whom near or remote the blow would not fall—except ours
No polite disguise could gloss over the general consternation Few thought of Jessop—only of themselves Many a father turned pale many a mother melted into smothered tears More than one honest countenance that five minutes before had beamed like the rising sun all friendliness and jocularity I saw shrink into a wizened worldly face with greedy selfishness peering out of the corners of its eyes eager to conceal its own alarms and dive as far as possible into the terrors of its neighbours
There will be a run on Jessops bank tomorrow I heard one person saying glancing to where the poor old banker still sat with a vacant stupefied smile assuring all around him that nothing had happened really nothing
A run I suppose so Then it will be Sauve qui peut and the devil take the hindmost
What say you to all this Mr Halifax
John still kept his place He sat perfectly quiet and had never spoken a syllable
When Sir Herbert who was the first to recover from the shock of these illtidings called him by his name Mr Halifax looked quickly up It was to see instead of those two lines of happy faces faces already gathering in troubled groups faces angry sullen or miserable all of which with a vague distrust seemed instinctively turned upon him
Mr Halifax said the baronet and one could see how in spite of his steadfast politeness he too was not without his anxieties—this is an unpleasant breakingin upon your kindly hospitalities I suppose through this unpropitious event each of us must make up our minds to some loss Let me hope yours will be trifling
John made no answer
Or perhaps—though I can hardly hope anything so fortunate—perhaps this failure will not affect you at all
He waited—as did many others for Mr Halifaxs reply which was long in coming However since all seemed to expect it it did come at last but grave and sad as if it were the announcement of some great misfortune
No Sir Herbert it will not affect me at all
Sir Herbert and not he alone—looked surprised—uneasily surprised Some mutters there were of congratulation Then arose a troubled murmur of talking in which the master of the house was forgotten until the baronet said My friends I think we are forgetting our courtesy Allow me to give you without more delay—the toast I was about to propose—Health long life and happiness to Mr Guy Halifax
And so poor Guys birthday toast was drunk almost in silence and the few words he said in acknowledgment were just listened to scarcely heard Every one rose from table and the festivities were over
One by one all our guests began to make excuse One by one involuntarily perhaps yet not the less painfully and plainly they all shrunk away from us as if in the universal trouble we who had nothing to fear had no part nor lot Formal congratulations given with pale lips and wandering eyes brusque adieux as some of the more honest or less courteous showed but too obviously how cruelly even resentfully they felt the inequalities of fortune hasty departures full of a dismay that rejected angrily every shadow of consolation—all these things John had to meet and to bear
He met them with composure scarcely speaking a word as indeed what was there to say To all the friendly speeches real or pretended he listened with a kind of sad gravity of all harsher words than these—and there were not a few—he took not the least notice but held his place as master of the house generously deaf and blind to everything that it were as well the master of the house should neither hear nor see
At last he was left a very Pariah of prosperity by his own hearth quite alone
The last carriage had rolled away the tired household had gone to bed there was no one in the study but me John came in and stood leaning with both his arms against the fireplace motionless and silent He leant there so long that at last I touched him
Well Phineas
I saw this nights events had wounded him to the core
Are you thinking of these honest friendly disinterested guests of ours Dont They are not worth a single thought
Not an angry thought certainly And he smiled at my wrath—a sad smile
Ah Phineas now I begin to understand what is meant by the curse of prosperity
CHAPTER XXXI
A great eager but doggedlyquiet crowd of which each had his or her—for it was half women—individual terror to hide his or her individual interest to fight for and cared not a straw for that of any one else
It was marketday and this crowd was collected and collecting every minute before the bank at Norton Bury It included all classes from the stout farmers wife or marketwoman to the pale frightened lady of limited income who had never been in such a throng before from the aproned mechanic to the gentleman who sat in his carriage at the street corner confident that whatever poor chance there was his would be the best
Everybody was as I have said extremely quiet You heard none of the jokes that always rise in and circulate through a crowd none of the loud outcries of a mob All were intent on themselves and their own business on that fastbolted redbaize door and on the green blind of the windows which informed them that it was open from ten till four
The Abbey clock struck three quarters Then there was a slight stirring a rustling here and there of paper as some one drew out and examined his bank notes openly with small fear of theft—they were not worth stealing
John and I a little way off stood looking on where we had once watched a far different crowd for Mr Jessop owned the doctors former house and in sight of the green bank blinds were my dear old fathers known windows
Guys birthday had fallen on a Saturday This was Monday morning We had driven over to Norton Bury John and I at an unusually early hour He did not exactly tell me why but it was not difficult to guess Not difficult to perceive how strongly he was interested even affected—as any man knowing all the circumstances could not but be affected—by the sight of that crowd all the sadder for its being such a patient decent respectable crowd out of which so large a proportion was women
I noticed this latter fact to John
Yes I was sure it would be so Jessops bank has such a number of small depositors and issues so many small notes He cannot cash above half of them without some notice If there comes a run he may have to stop payment this very day and then how wide the misery would spread among the poor God knows
His eye wandered pitifully over the heaving mass of anxious faces blue with cold and growing more and more despondent as every minute they turned with a common impulse from the closed bank door to the Abbey clock glittering far up in the sunshiny atmosphere of morning
Its finger touched the one heel of the great striding X—glided on to the other—the ten strokes fell leisurely and regularly upon the clear frosty air then the chimes—Norton Bury was proud of its Abbey chimes—burst out in the tune of Life let us Cherish
The bells went through all the tune to the very last note—then ensued silence The crowd were silent too—almost breathless with intent listening—but alas not to the merry Abbey chimes
The bank door remained closed—not a rattle at the bolts not a clerks face peering out above the blind The house was as shutup and desolate as if it were entirely empty
Five whole minutes—by the Abbey clock—did that poor patient crowd wait on the pavement Then a murmur arose One or two men hammered at the door some frightened women jostled in the press begun to scream
John could bear it no longer Come along with me he said hurriedly I must see Jessop—we can get in at the garden door
This was a little gate round the corner of the street well known to us both in those brief courting days when we came to tea of evenings and found Mrs Jessop and Ursula March in the garden watering the plants and tying up the roses Nay we passed out of it into the same summer parlour where—I cannot tell if John ever knew of the incident at all events he never mentioned it to me—there had been transacted a certain momentous event in Ursulas life and mine Entering by the French window there rose up to my mental vision in vivid contrast to all present scenes the picture of a young girl I had once seen sitting there with head drooped knitting Could that day be twentyfive years ago
No summer parlour now—its atmosphere was totally changed It was a dull dusty room of which the only lively object was a large fire the under half of which had burnt itself away unstirred into black dingy caverns Before it with breakfast untasted sat Josiah Jessop—his feet on the fender his elbows on his knees the picture of despair
Mr Jessop my good friend
No I havent a friend in the world or shall not have an hour hence Oh its you Mr Halifax—You have not an account to close You dont hold any notes of mine do you
John put his hand on the old mans shoulder and repeated that he only came as a friend
Not the first friend I have received this morning I knew I should be early honoured with visitors and the banker attempted a dreary smile Sir Herbert and halfadozen more are waiting for me upstairs The biggest fish must have the first bite—eh you know
I know said John gloomily
Hark those people outside will hammer my door down—Speak to them Mr Halifax—tell them Im an old man—that I was always an honest man—always If only they would give me time—hark—just hark Heaven help me do they want to tear me in pieces
John went out for a few moments then came back and sat down beside Mr Jessop
Compose yourself—the old man was shaking like an aspen leaf Tell me if you have no objection to give me this confidence exactly how your affairs stand
With a gasp of helpless thankfulness looking up in Johns face while his own quivered like a frightened childs—the banker obeyed It seemed that great as was his loss by W——s failure it was not absolute ruin to him In effect he was at this moment perfectly solvent and by calling in mortgages etc could meet both the accounts of the gentry who banked with him together with all his own notes now afloat in the country principally among the humbler ranks petty tradespeople and such like if only both classes of customers would give him time to pay them
But they will not There will be a run upon the bank and then alls over with me Its a hard case—solvent as I am—ready and able to pay every farthing—if only I had a weeks time As it is I must stop payment today Hark they are at the door again Mr Halifax for Gods sake quiet them
I will only tell me first what sum added to the cash you have available would keep the bank open—just for a day or two
At once guided and calmed the old mans business faculties seemed to return He began to calculate and soon stated the sum he needed I think it was three or four thousand pounds
Very well I have thought of a plan But first—those poor fellows outside Thank Heaven I am a rich man and everybody knows it Phineas that inkstand please
He sat down and wrote curiously the attitude and manner reminded me of his sitting down and writing at my fathers table after the bread riot—years and years ago Soon a notice signed by Josiah Jessop and afterwards by himself to the effect that the bank would open without fail at one oclock this day—was given by John to the astonished clerk to be posted in the window
A responsive cheer outside showed how readily those outside had caught at even this gleam of hope Also—how implicitly they trusted in the mere name of a gentleman who all over the country was known for his word being as good as his bond—John Halifax
The banker breathed freer but his respite was short an imperative message came from the gentlemen abovestairs desiring his presence With a kind of blind dependence he looked towards John
Let me go in your stead You can trust me to manage matters to the best of my power
The banker overwhelmed him with gratitude
Nay that ought to be my word standing in this house and remembering—His eyes turned to the two portraits—grimlycoloured daubs yet with a certain apology of likeness too which broadly smiled at one another from opposite walls—the only memorials now remaining of the good doctor and his cheery little old wife Come Mr Jessop leave the matter with me believe me it is not only a pleasure but a duty
The old man melted into senile tears
I do not know how John managed the provincial magnates who were sitting in council considering how best to save first themselves then the bank lastly—If the poor public outside had been made acquainted with that ominous lastly Or if to the respectable conclave abovestairs who would have recoiled indignantly at the vulgar word jobbing had been hinted a phrase—which ran oddly in and out of the nooks of my brain keeping time to the murmur in the street Vox populi vox Dei—truly I should have got little credit for my Latinity
John came out in about half an hour with a cheerful countenance told me he was going over to Coltham for an hour or two—would I wait his return
And all is settled I asked
Will be soon I trust I cant stay to tell you more now Goodbye
I was no man of business and could assist in nothing So I thought the best I could do was to pass the time in wandering up and down the familiar garden idly watching the hoarfrost on the arbutus leaves and on the dry stems of what had been dear little Mrs Jessops favourite roses—the same roses I had seen her among on that momentous evening—the evening when Ursulas bent neck flushed more crimson than the sunset itself as I told her John Halifax was too noble to die for any womans love
No—he had lived for it—earned it—won it And musing over these longago times my heart melted—foolish old heart that it was with a trembling joy to think that Providence had in some way used my poor useless hand to give to him this blessing a mans chiefest blessing of a virtuous and loving wife—which had crowned his life for all these wonderful years
As it neared one oclock I could see my ancient friend the Abbey clock with not a wrinkle in his old face staring at me through the bare Abbey trees I began to feel rather anxious I went into the deserted office and thence none forbidding ensconced myself behind the sheltering bank blinds
The crowd had scarcely moved a very honest patient weary crowd dense in the centre thinning towards the edges On its extremest verge waiting in a curricle was a gentleman who seemed observing it with a lazy curiosity I having like himself apparently nothing better to do observed this gentleman
He was dressed in the height of the mode combined with a novel and eccentric fashion which had been lately set by that extraordinary young nobleman whom everybody talked about—my Lord Byron His neckcloth was loose his throat bare and his hair fell long and untidy His face that of a man about thirty—I fancied I had seen it before but could not recall where—was delicate thin with an expression at once cynical and melancholy He sat in his carriage wrapped in furs or looked carelessly out on the scene before him as if he had no interest therein—as if there was nothing in life worth living for
Poor fellow said I to myself recalling the bright busy laughing faces of our growing up lads recalling especially their fathers—full of all that active energy and wise cheerfulness which gives zest to existence God forbid any man should die till he has lived to learn it—poor fellow I wish his moodiness could take a lesson from us at home
But the gentleman soon retired from my observation under his furs for the sky had gloomed over and snow began to fall Those on the pavement shook it drearily off and kept turning every minute to the Abbey clock—I feared it would take the patience of Job to enable them to hold out another quarter of an hour
At length some determined hand again battered at the door I fancied I heard a clerk speaking out of the firstfloor window
Gentlemen—how tremblingly polite the voice was—Gentlemen in five minutes—positively five minutes—the bank will—
The rest of the speech was drowned and lost Dashing round the street corner the horses all in a foam came our Beechwood carriage Mr Halifax leaped out
Well might the crowd divide for him—well might they cheer him For he carried a canvas bag—a great ugly grimycoloured bag—a precious precious bag with the consolation—perhaps the life—of hundreds in it
I knew almost by intuition what he had done—what in one or two instances was afterwards done by other rich and generous Englishmen during the crisis of this year
The bank door flew open like magic The crowd came pushing in but when John called out to them Good people pray let me pass they yielded and suffered him to go in first He went right up to the desk behind which flanked by a tolerable array of similar canvas bags full of gold—but nevertheless waiting in mortal fear and as white as his own neckcloth—the old banker stood
Mr Jessop John said in a loud distinct voice that all might hear him I have the pleasure to open an account with you I feel satisfied that in these dangerous times no credit is more safe than yours Allow me to pay in today the sum of five thousand pounds
Five thousand pounds
The rumour of it was repeated from mouth to mouth In a small provincial bank such a sum seemed unlimited It gave universal confidence Many who had been scrambling swearing almost fighting to reach the counter and receive gold for their notes put them again into their pockets uncashed Others chiefly women got them cashed with a trembling hand—nay with tears of joy A few who had come to close accounts changed their minds and even paid money in All were satisfied—the run upon the bank ceased
Mr Halifax stood aside looking on After the first murmur of surprise and pleasure no one seemed to take any notice of him or of what he had done Only one old widow woman as she slipped three bright guineas under the lid of her marketbasket dropped him a curtsey in passing by
Its your doing Mr Halifax The Lord reward you sir
Thank you he said and shook her by the hand I thought to myself watching the many that came and went unmindful ONLY THIS SAMARITAN
No—one person more standing by addressed him by name This is indeed your doing and an act of benevolence which I believe no man alive would have done except Mr Halifax
And the gentleman who spoke—the same I had seen outside in his curricle—held out a friendly hand
I see you do not remember me My name is Ravenel
Lord Ravenel
John uttered this exclamation—and no more I saw that this sudden meeting had brought back with a cruel tide of memory the last time they met—by the small nursery bed in that upper chamber at Enderley
However this feeling shortly passed away as must needs be and we all three began to converse together
While he talked something of the old Anselmo came back into Lord Ravenels face especially when John asked him if he would drive over with us to Enderley
Enderley—how strange the word sounds—yet I should like to see the place again Poor old Enderley
Irresolutely—all his gestures seemed dreamy and irresolute—he drew his hand across his eyes—the same white longfingered womanish hand which had used to guide Muriels over the organ keys
Yes—I think I will go back with you to Enderley But first I must speak to Mr Jessop here
It was about some poor Catholic families who as we had before learnt had long been his pensioners
You are a Catholic still then I asked We heard the contrary
Did you—Oh of course One hears such wonderful facts about oneself Probably you heard also that I have been to the Holy Land and turned Jew—called at Constantinople and come back a Mohammedan
But are you of your old faith John said Still a sincere Catholic
If you take Catholic in its original sense certainly I am a Universalist I believe everything—and nothing Let us change the subject The contemptuous scepticism of his manner altered as he inquired after Mrs Halifax and the children No longer children now I suppose
Scarcely Guy and Walter are as tall as yourself and my daughter—
Your daughter—with a start—oh yes I recollect Baby Maud Is she at all like—like—
No
Neither said more than this but it seemed as if their hearts warmed to one another knitted by the same tender remembrance
We drove home Lord Ravenel muffled himself up in his furs complaining bitterly of the snow and sleet
Yes the winter is setting in sharply John replied as he reined in his horses at the turnpike gate This will be a hard Christmas for many
Ay indeed sir said the gatekeeper touching his hat
And if I might make so bold—its a dark night and the roads lonely— he added in a mysterious whisper
Thank you my friend I am aware of all that But as John drove on he remained for some time very silent
On across the bleak country with the snow pelting in our faces—along roads so deserted that our carriagewheels made the only sound audible and that might have been heard distinctly for miles
All of a sudden the horses were pulled up Three or four illlooking figures had started out of a ditchbank and caught hold of the reins
Holloa there—What do you want
Money
Let go my horses Theyre spirited beasts Youll get trampled on
Who cares
This brief colloquy passed in less than a minute It showed at once our position—miles away from any house—on this desolate moor showed plainly our danger—Johns danger
He himself did not seem to recognize it He stood upright on the box seat the whip in his hand
Get away you fellows or I must drive over you
Theed better With a yell one of the men leaped up and clung to the neck of the plunging mare—then was dashed to the ground between her feet The poor wretch uttered one groan and no more John sprang out of his carriage caught the mares head and backed her
Hold off—the poor fellow is killed or may be in a minute Hold off I say
If ever these men planning perhaps their first ill deed were struck dumb with astonishment it was to see the gentleman they were intending to rob take up their comrade in his arms drag him towards the carriagelamps rub snow on his face and chafe his heavy hands But all in vain The blood trickled down from a wound in the temples—the head with its open mouth dropping fell back upon Johns knee
He is quite dead
The others gathered round in silence watching Mr Halifax as he still knelt with the dead mans head leaning against him mournfully regarding it
I think I know him Where does his wife live
Some one pointed across the moor to a light faint as a glowworm Take that rug out of my carriage—wrap him in it The order was at once obeyed Now carry him home I will follow presently
Surely not expostulated Lord Ravenel who had got out of the carriage and stood shivering and much shocked beside Mr Halifax You would not surely put yourself in the power of these scoundrels What brutes they are—the lower orders
Not altogether—when you know them Phineas will you drive Lord Ravenel on to Beechwood
Excuse me—certainly not said Lord Ravenel with dignity We will stay to see the result of the affair What a singular man Mr Halifax is and always was he added thoughtfully as he muffled himself up again in his furs and relapsed into silence
Soon following the track of those black figures across the snow we came to a cluster of peat huts alongside of the moorland road John took one of the carriagelamps in his hand and went in without saying a word To my surprise Lord Ravenel presently dismounted and followed him I was left with the reins in my hand and two or three of those illvisaged men hovered about the carriage but no one attempted to do me any harm Nay when John reappeared after a lapse of some minutes one of them civilly picked up the whip and put it into his hand
Thank you Now my men tell me what did you want with me just now
Money cried one Work shouted another
And a likely way you went about to get it Stopping me in the dark on a lonely road just like common robbers I did not think any Enderley men would have done a thing so cowardly
We beant cowards was the surly answer Thee carries pistols Mr Halifax
You forced me to do it My life is as precious to my wife and children as—as that poor fellows to his John stopped God help us my men its a hard world for us all sometimes Why did you not know me better Why not come to my house and ask honestly for a dinner and a halfcrown—you should have had both any day
Thankee sir was the general cry And sir begged one old man youll hush up the crowners quest—you and this gentleman here You wont put us in jail for taking to the road Mr Halifax
No—unless you attack me again But I am not afraid—Ill trust you Look here He took the pistol out of his breastpocket cocked it and fired its two barrels harmlessly into the air Now goodnight and if ever I carry firearms again it will be your fault not mine
So saying he held the carriagedoor open for Lord Ravenel who took his place with a subdued and thoughtful air then mounting the boxseat John drove in somewhat melancholy silence across the snowy starlit moors to Beechwood
CHAPTER XXXII
In the homelight
It was a scene—glowing almost as those evening pictures at Longfield Those pictures photographed on memory by the summer sun of our lives and which no paler aftersun could have power to reproduce Nothing earthly is ever reproduced in the same form I suppose Heaven meant it to be so that in the perpetual progression of our existence we should be reconciled to loss and taught that change itself is but another form for aspiration Aspiration which never can rest or ought to rest in anything short of the One absolute Perfection—the One allsatisfying Good IN WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING
I say this to excuse myself for thoughts which at times made me grave—even in the happy homelight of Johns study where for several weeks after the last incident I have recorded the family were in the habit of gathering every evening For poor Guy was a captive The mere trifle had turned out to be a sprained foot which happening to a tall and strong young man became serious He bore his imprisonment restlessly enough at first but afterwards grew more reconciled—took to reading drawing and society—and even began to interest himself in the pursuits of his sister Maud who every morning had her lessons in the study
Miss Silver first proposed this She had evinced more feeling than was usual to her since Guys accident showed him many little feminine kindnesses—out of compunction it seemed and altogether was much improved Of evenings as now she always made one of the young people who were generally grouped together round Guys sofa—Edwin Walter and little Maud The father and mother sat opposite—as usual side by side he with his newspaper she with her work Or sometimes falling into pleasant idleness they would slip hand in hand and sit talking to one another in an undertone or silently and smilingly watch the humours of their children
For me I generally took to my nook in the chimneycorner—it was a very ancient fireplace with settles on each side and dogs instead of a grate upon which many a faggot hissed and crackled its merry brief life away Nothing could be more cheery and comfortable than this oldfashioned lowroofed room three sides of which were peopled with books—all the books which John had gathered up during the course of his life Perhaps it was their longfamiliar friendly faces which made this his favourite room his own especial domain But he did not keep it tabooed from his family he liked to have them about him even in his studious hours
So of evenings we all sat together as now each busy and none interrupting the rest At intervals flashes of talk or laughter broke out chiefly from Guy Walter or Maud when Edwin would look up from his everlasting book and even the grave governess relax into a smile Since she had learnt to smile it became more and more apparent how very handsome Miss Silver was Handsome is I think the fittest word for her that correctness of form and colour which attracts the eye chiefly and perhaps the eye of men rather than of women—at least Mrs Halifax could never be brought to see it But then her peculiar taste was for slender small brunettes like Grace Oldtower whereas Miss Silver was large and fair
Fair in every sense most decidedly And now that she evidently began to pay a little more attention to her dress and her looks we found out that she was also young
Only twentyone today Guy says I remarked one day to Ursula
How did Guy know it
I believe he discovered the wonderful secret from Maud
Maud and her brother Guy have grown wonderful friends since his illness Do you not think so
Yes I found the two of them—and even Miss Silver—as merry as possible when I came into the study this morning
Did you said the mother with an involuntary glance at the group opposite
There was nothing particular to observe They all sat in most harmless quietude Edwin reading Maud at his feet playing with the cat Miss Silver busy at a piece of that delicate muslinwork with which young women then used to ornament their gowns Guy had been drawing a pattern from it and now leant back upon his sofa shading off the fire with his hand and from behind it gazing as I had often seen him gaze lately with a curious intentness—at the young governess
Guy said his mother and Guy started what were you thinking about
Oh nothing that is— here by some accident Miss Silver quitted the room Mother come over here I want your opinion There sit down—though its nothing of the least importance
Nevertheless it was with some hesitation that he brought out the mighty question namely that it was Miss Silvers birthday today that he thought we ought to remember it and give her some trifle as a present
And I was considering this large Flora I ordered from London—she would like it extremely she is so fond of botany
What do you know about botany said Edwin sharply and rather irrelevantly as it seemed till I remembered how he plumed himself upon his knowledge of this science and how he had persisted in taking Maud and her governess also long wintry walks across the country in order to study the cryptogamia
Guy vouchsafed no answer to his brother he was too much absorbed in turning over the pages of the beautiful Flora on his knee
What do you say all of you Father dont you think she would like it Then suppose you give it to her
At this inopportune moment Miss Silver returned
She might have been aware that she was under discussion—at least so much of discussion as was implied by Guys eager words and his mothers silence for she looked around her uneasily and was about to retire
Do not go Guy exclaimed anxiously
Pray do not his mother added we were just talking about you Miss Silver My son hopes you will accept this book from him and from us all with all kind birthday wishes
And rising with a little more gravity than was her wont Mrs Halifax touched the girls forehead with her lips and gave her the present
Miss Silver coloured and drew back You are very good but indeed I would much rather not have it
Why so Do you dislike gifts or this gift in particular
Oh no certainly not
Then said John as he too came forward and shook hands with her with an air of hearty kindness pray take the book Do let us show how much we respect you how entirely we regard you as one of the family
Guy turned a look of grateful pleasure to his father but Miss Silver colouring more than ever still held back
No I cannot indeed I cannot
Why can you not
For several reasons
Give me only one of them—as much as can be expected from a young lady said Mr Halifax goodhumouredly
Mr Guy ordered the Flora for himself I must not allow him to renounce his pleasure for me
It would not be renouncing it if YOU had it returned the lad in a low tone at which once more his younger brother looked up angrily
What folly about nothing how can one read with such a clatter going on
You old bookworm you care for nothing and nobody but yourself Guy answered laughing But Edwin really incensed rose and settled himself in the far corner of the room
Edwin is right said the father in a tone which indicated his determination to end the discussion a tone which even Miss Silver obeyed My dear young lady I hope you will like your book Guy write her name in it at once
Guy willingly obeyed but was a good while over the task his mother came and looked over his shoulder
Louisa Eugenie—how did you know that Guy Louisa Eugenie Sil—is that your name my dear
The question simple as it was seemed to throw the governess into much confusion even agitation At last she drew herself up with the old repulsive gesture which of late had been slowly wearing off
No—I will not deceive you any longer My right name is Louise Eugenie DArgent
Mrs Halifax started Are you a Frenchwoman
On my fathers side—yes
Why did you not tell me so
Because if you remember at our first interview you said no Frenchwoman should educate your daughter And I was homeless—friendless
Better starve than tell a falsehood cried the mother indignantly
I told no falsehood You never asked me of my parentage
Nay said John interfering you must not speak in that manner to Mrs Halifax Why did you renounce your fathers name
Because English people would have scouted my fathers daughter You knew him—everybody knew him—he was DArgent the Jacobin—DArgent the Bonnet Rouge
She threw out these words defiantly and quitted the room
This is a dreadful discovery Edwin you have seen most of her—did you ever imagine—
I knew it mother said Edwin without lifting his eyes from his book After all French or English it makes no difference
I should think not indeed cried Guy angrily Whatever her father is if any one dared to think the worse of her—
Hush—till another time said the father with a glance at Maud who with wideopen eyes in which the tears were just springing had been listening to all these revelations about her governess
But Mauds tears were soon stopped as well as this painful conversation by the entrance of our daily or rather nightly visitor for these six weeks past Lord Ravenel His presence always welcome was a great relief now We never discussed family affairs before people The boys began to talk to Lord Ravenel and Maud took her privileged place on a footstool beside him From the first sight she had been his favourite he said because of her resemblance to Muriel But I think more than any fancied likeness to that sweet lost face which he never spoke of without tenderness inexpressible there was something in Mauds buoyant youth—just between childhood and girlhood having the charms of one and the immunities of the other—which was especially attractive to this man who at threeandthirty found life a weariness and a burthen—at least he said so
Life was never either weary or burthensome in our house—not even tonight though our friend found us less lively than usual—though John maintained more than his usual silence and Mrs Halifax fell into troubled reveries Guy and Edwin both considerably excited argued and contradicted one another more warmly than even the Beechwood liberty of speech allowed For Miss Silver she did not appear again
Lord Ravenel seemed to take these slight desagremens very calmly He stayed his customary time smiling languidly as ever at the boys controversies or listening with a halfpleased halfmelancholy laziness to Mauds gay prattle his eye following her about the room with the privileged tenderness that twenty years seniority allows a man to feel and show towards a child At his wonted hour he rode away sighingly contrasting pleasant Beechwood with dreary and solitary Luxmore
After his departure we did not again close round the fire Maud vanished the younger boys also Guy settled himself on his sofa having first taken the pains to limp across the room and fetch the Flora which Edwin had carefully stowed away in the bookcase Then making himself comfortable as the pleasureloving lad liked well enough to do he lay dreamily gazing at the titlepage where was written her name and From Guy Halifax with—
What are you going to add my son
He glancing up at his mother made her no answer and hastily closed the book
She looked hurt but saying nothing more began moving about the room putting things in order before retiring John sat in the armchair—meditative She asked him what he was thinking about
About that man Jacques DArgent
You have heard of him then
Few had not twenty years ago He was one of the most blatant beasts of the Reign of Terror A fellow without honesty conscience or even common decency
And that mans daughter we have had in our house teaching our innocent child
Alarm and disgust were written on every feature of the mothers face It was scarcely surprising Now that the ferment which had convulsed society in our younger days was settling down—though still we were far from that ultimate calm which enables posterity to judge fully and fairly such a remarkable historical crisis as the French Revolution—most English people looked back with horror on the extreme opinions of that time If Mrs Halifax had a weak point it was her prejudice against anything French or Jacobinical Partly from that tendency to moral conservatism which in most persons especially women strengthens as old age advances partly I believe from the terrible warning given by the fate of one—of whom for years we had never heard—whose very name was either unknown to or forgotten by our children
John cant you speak Dont you see the frightful danger
Love try and be calmer
How can I Remember—remember Caroline
Nay we are not talking of her but of a girl whom we know and have had good opportunity of knowing A girl who whatever may have been her antecedents has lived for six months blamelessly in our house
Would to Heaven she had never entered it But it is not too late She may leave—she shall leave immediately
Mother burst out Guy Never since she bore him had his mother heard her name uttered in such a tone
She stood petrified
Mother you are unjust heartless cruel She shall NOT leave she shall NOT I say
Guy how dare you speak to your mother in that way
Yes father I dare Ill dare anything rather than—
Stop Mind what you are saying—or you may repent it
And Mr Halifax speaking in that low tone to which his voice fell in serious displeasure laid a heavy hand on the lads shoulder Father and son exchanged fiery glances The mother terrified rushed between them
Dont John Dont be angry with him He could not help it—my poor boy
At her piteous look Guy and his father both drew back John put his arm round his wife and made her sit down She was trembling exceedingly
You see Guy how wrong you have been How could you wound your mother so
I did not mean to wound her the lad answered I only wished to prevent her from being unjust and unkind to one to whom she must show all justice and kindness One whom I respect esteem—whom I LOVE
Love
Yes mother Yes father I love her I intend to marry her
Guy said this with an air of quiet determination very different from the usual impetuosity of his character It was easy to perceive that a great change had come over him that in this passion the silent growth of which no one had suspected he was most thoroughly in earnest From the boy he had suddenly started up into the man and his parents saw it
They looked at him and then mournfully at one another The father was the first to speak
All this is very sudden You should have told us of it before
I did not know it myself till—till very lately the youth answered more softly lowering his head and blushing
Is Miss Silver—is the lady aware of it
No
That is well said the father after a pause In this silence you have acted as an honourable lover should towards her as a dutiful son should act towards his parents
Guy looked pleased He stole his hand nearer his mothers but she neither took it nor repelled it she seemed quite stunned
At this point I noticed that Maud had crept into the room—I sent her out again as quickly as I could Alas this was the first secret that needed to be kept from her the first painful mystery in our happy happy home
In any such home the first falling in love whether of son or daughter necessarily makes a great change Greater if the former than the latter There is often a pitiful truth—I know not why it should be so but so it is—in the foolish rhyme which the mother had laughingly said over to me this morning
My sons my son till he gets him a wife
My daughters my daughter all her life
And when as in this case the son wishes to marry one whom his father may not wholly approve whom his mother does not heartily love surely the pain is deepened tenfold
Those who in the dazzled vision of youth see only the beauty and splendour of love—first love who deem it comprises the whole of life beginning aim and end—may marvel that I who have been young and now am old see as I saw that night not only the lovers but the parents side of the question I felt overwhelmed with sadness as viewing the three I counted up in all its bearings and consequences near and remote this attachment of poor Guys
Well father he said at last guessing by intuition that the fathers heart would best understand his own
Well my son John answered sadly
YOU were young once
So I was with a tender glance upon the lads heated and excited countenance Do not suppose I cannot feel with you Still I wish you had been less precipitate
You were little older than I am when you married
But my marriage was rather different from this projected one of yours I knew your mother well and she knew me Both of us had been tried—by trouble which we shared together by absence by many and various cares We chose one another not hastily or blindly but with free will and open eyes No Guy he added speaking earnestly and softly mine was no sudden fancy no frantic passion I honoured your mother above all women I loved her as my own soul
So do I love Louise I would die for her any day
At the sons impetuosity the father smiled not incredulously only sadly
All this while the mother had sat motionless never uttering a sound Suddenly hearing a footstep and a light knock at the door she darted forward and locked it crying in a voice that one could hardly have recognized as hers—
No admittance Go away
A note was pushed in under the door Mrs Halifax picked it up—opened it read it mechanically and sat down again taking no notice even when Guy catching sight of the handwriting eagerly seized the paper
It was merely a line stating Miss Silvers wish to leave Beechwood immediately signed with her full name—her right name—Louise Eugenie DArgent
A postscript added Your silence I shall take as permission to depart and shall be gone early tomorrow
Tomorrow Gone tomorrow And she does not even know that—that I love her Mother you have ruined my happiness I will never forgive you—never
Never forgive his mother His mother who had borne him nursed him reared him who had loved him with that love—like none other in the world—the love of a woman for her firstborn son all these twentyone years
It was hard I think the most passionate lover in reasonable moments would allow that it was hard No marvel that even her husbands clasp could not remove the look of heartbroken speechless suffering which settled stonily down in Ursulas face as she watched her boy—storming about furious with uncontrollable passion and pain
At last motherlike she forgot the passion in pity of the pain
He is not strong yet he will do himself harm Let me go to him John let me Her husband released her
Faintly with a weak uncertain walk she went up to Guy and touched his arm
You must keep quiet or you will be ill I cannot have my son ill—not for any girl Come sit down—here beside your mother
She was obeyed Looking into her eyes and seeing no anger there nothing but grief and love the young mans right spirit came into him again
O mother mother forgive me I am so miserable—so miserable
He laid his head on her shoulder She kissed and clasped him close—her boy who never could be wholly hers again who had learned to love some one else dearer than his mother
After a while she said Father shake hands with Guy Tell him that we forgive his being angry with us that perhaps some day—
She stopped uncertain as to the fathers mind or seeking strength for her own
Some day John continued Guy will find out that we can have nothing in the world—except our childrens good—so dear to us as their happiness
Guy looked up beaming with hope and joy O father O mother will you indeed—
We will indeed say nothing the father answered smiling nothing until tomorrow Then we will all three talk the matter quietly over and see what can be done
Of course I knew to a certainty the conclusion they would come to
CHAPTER XXXIII
Late that night as I sat up pondering over all that had happened Mrs Halifax came into my room
She looked round asked me according to her wont if there was anything I wanted before she retired for the night—Ursula was as good to me as any sister—then stood by my easychair I would not meet her eyes but I saw her hands fluttering in their restless way
I pointed to her accustomed chair
No I cant sit down I must say goodnight Then coming at once to the point—Phineas you are always up first in the morning Will you—John thinks it had better be you—will you give a message from us to—Mauds governess
Yes What shall I say
Merely that we request she will not leave Beechwood until we have seen her
If Miss Silver had overheard the manner and tone of that request I doubt if it would not have hastened rather than delayed her departure But God help the poor mother her wounds were still fresh
Would it not be better I suggested if you were to write to her
I cant no I cant—spoken with the sharpness of exceeding pain Soon after as in faint apology she added I am so tired we are very late tonight
Yes it is almost morning I thought you were both in bed
No we have been sitting talking in Guys room His father thought it would be better
And is all settled
Yes
Having told me this and having as it were by such a conclusion confessed it was right the question should be thus settled Guys mother seemed more herself
Yes she repeated John thinks it ought to be At least that she should know Guys—the feeling with which Guy regards her If after the probation of a year it still remains and he is content to begin life on a small income we have given our consent to our sons marriage
It struck me how the mothers mind entirely dwelt on the one party in this matter—Guys feelings—Our sons marriage—and so on The other side of the question or the possibility of any hindrance there never seemed to enter her imagination Perhaps it would not even into mine for I shared the family faith in its bestbeloved Guy but for Mrs Halifaxs so entirely ignoring the idea that any consent except her sons and his parents was necessary to this marriage
It will not part him from us so very much you see Phineas she said evidently trying to view the bright side—and she has no relatives living—not one For income—Guy will have the entire profit of the Norton Bury mills and they might begin as we did in the old Norton Bury house—the dear old house
The thought of her own young days seemed to come soothingly and sweet taking the sting out of her pain showing her how it was but right and justice that Natures holy law should be fulfilled—that children in their turn should love and marry and be happy like their parents
Yes she answered as I gently hinted this I know you are right all is quite right and as it should be though it was a shock at first No matter John esteems her—John likes her For me—oh I shall make a capital—what is it—a capital MOTHERINLAW—in time
With that smile which was almost cheerful she bade me goodnight—rather hastily perhaps as if she wished to leave me while her cheerfulness lasted Then I heard her step along the passage pausing once—most likely at Guys room door her own closed and the house was in silence
I rose early in the morning—not one whit too early for I met Miss Silver in the hall bonneted and shawled carrying down with her own hands a portion of her chattels She evidently contemplated an immediate departure It was with the greatest difficulty that without betraying my reasons which of course was impossible I could persuade her to change her determination
Poor girl last nights events had apparently shaken her from that indifference which she seemed to think the best armour of a helpless proud governess against the world She would scarcely listen to a word She was in extreme agitation halfadozen times she insisted on leaving and then sat down again
I had not given her credit for so much wholesome irresolution—so much genuine feeling Her manner almost convinced me of a fact which every one else seemed to hold as certain but which I myself should have liked to see proved namely that Guy in asking her love would have—what in every right and happy marriage a man ought to have—the knowledge that the love was his before he asked for it
Seeing this my heart warmed to the girl I respected her brave departure—I rejoiced that it was needless Willingly I would have quieted her distress with some hopeful ambiguous word but that would have been trenching as no one ever ought to trench on the lovers sole right So I held my tongue watching with an amused pleasure the colour hovering to and fro over that usually impassive face At last at the opening of the studydoor—we stood in the hall still—those blushes rose up to her forehead in one involuntary tide
But it was only Edwin who had lately taken to a habit of getting up very early—to study mathematics He looked surprised at seeing me with Miss Silver
What is that box She is not going
No I have been entreating her not Add your persuasions Edwin
For Edwin with all his quietness was a lad of much wisdom great influence and no little penetration I felt inclined to believe that though as yet he had not been let into the secret of last night he guessed it pretty well already
He might have done by the peculiar manner in which he went up to the governess and took her hand
Pray stay I beg of you
She made no more ado but stayed
I left her with Edwin and took my usual morning walk up and down the garden till breakfasttime
A strange and painful breakfast it was even though the most important element in its painfulness Guy was happily absent The rest of us kept up a fragmentary awkward conversation every one round the table looking as indeed one might have expected they would look—with one exception
Miss Silver who from her behaviour last night and her demeanour to me this morning I had supposed would now have gathered up all her haughtiness to resist Guys parents—as ignorant both of his feelings and their intentions towards her a young lady of her proud spirit might well resist—was to my astonishment as mild and meek as this soft spring morning Nay like it seemed often on the very verge of the melting mood More than once her drooping eyelashes were gemmed with tears And when the breakfasttable being quickly deserted—Edwin indeed had left it almost immediately—she sitting absently in her place was gently touched by Mrs Halifax she started up with the same vivid rush of colour that I had before noticed It completely altered the expression of her face made her look ten years younger—ten years happier and being happier ten times more amiable
This expression—I was not the only one to notice it—was by some intuition reflected on the mothers It made softer than any speech of hers to Miss Silver—the few words—
My dear will you come with me into the study
To lessons Yes I beg your pardon Maud—where is Maud
Never mind lessons just yet We will have a little chat with my son Uncle Phineas youll come Will you come too my dear
If you wish it And with an air of unwonted obedience she followed Mrs Halifax
Poor Guy—confused young lover—meeting for the first time after his confession the acknowledged object of his preference—I really felt sorry for him And except that women have generally twice as much selfcontrol in such cases as men—and Miss Silver proved it—I might even have been sorry for her But then her uncertainties would soon be over She had not to make—all her family being aware she was then and there making it—that terrible offer of marriage which I am given to understand is even under the most favourable circumstances as formidable as going up to the cannons mouth
I speak of it jestingly as we all jested uneasily that morning save Mrs Halifax who scarcely spoke a word At length when Miss Silver growing painfully restless again referred to lessons she said
Not yet I want Maud for half an hour Will you be so kind as to take my place and sit with my son the while
Oh certainly
I was vexed with her—really vexed—for that ready assent but then who knows the ins and outs of womens ways At any rate for Guys sake this must be got over—the quicker the better His mother rose
My son my dear boy She leant over him whispering—I think she kissed him—then slowly quietly she walked out of the study I followed Outside the door we parted and I heard her go upstairs to her own room
It might have been half an hour afterwards when Maud and I coming in from the garden met her standing in the hall No one was with her and she was doing nothing two very remarkable facts in the daily life of the mother of the family
Maud ran up to her with some primroses
Very pretty very pretty my child
But you dont look at them—you dont care for them—Ill go and show them to Miss Silver
No was the hasty answer Come back Maud—Miss Silver is occupied
Making some excuse I sent the child away for I saw that even Mauds presence was intolerable to her mother That poor mother whose suspense was growing into positive agony
She waited—standing at the diningroom window—listening—going in and out of the hall—for another ten minutes
It is very strange—very strange indeed He promised to come and tell me surely at least he ought to come and tell me first—me his mother—
She stopped at the word oppressed by exceeding pain
Hark was that the study door
I think so one minute more and you will be quite certain
Ay one minute more and we WERE quite certain The young lover entered—his bitter tidings written on his face
She has refused me mother I never shall be happy more
Poor Guy—I slipped out of his sight and left the lad alone with his mother
Another hour passed of this strange strange day The house seemed painfully quiet Maud disconsolate and cross had taken herself away to the beechwood with Walter the father and Edwin were busy at the mills and had sent word that neither would return to dinner I wandered from room to room always excepting that shutup room where as I took care no one should disturb the mother and son
At last I heard them both going upstairs—Guy was still too lame to walk without assistance I heard the poor lads fretful tones and the soothing cheerful voice that answered them Verily thought I if since he must fall in love Guy had only fixed his ideal standard of womanhood a little nearer home—if he had only chosen for his wife a woman a little more like his mother But I suppose that would have been expecting impossibilities
Well he had been refused—our Guy whom we all would have imagined irresistible—our Guy whom to look on was to love Some harsh folk might say this might be a good lesson for the lad—nay for most lads but I deny it—I doubt if any young man meeting at the outset of life a rejection like this which either ignorance or heedlessness on the womans part had made totally unexpected ever is the better for it perhaps for many years cruelly the worse For most women being quicksighted about love and most men—especially young men—blind enough in its betrayal—any woman who wilfully allows an offer only to refuse it lowers not only herself but her whole sex for a long long time after in the lovers eyes At least I think so—as I was thinking in the way old bachelors are prone to moralize over such things when coming out of Guys room I met Mrs Halifax
She crossed the passage hastily but noiselessly to a small anteroom which Miss Silver had for her own private study—out of which halfadozen stairs led to the chamber where she and her pupil slept The anteroom was open the bedchamber door closed
She is in there
I believe she is
Guys mother stood irresolute Her knit brow and nervous manner betrayed some determination she had come to which had cost her hard suddenly she turned to me
Keep the children out of the way will you Phineas Dont let them know—dont let anybody know—about Guy
Of course not
There is some mistake—there MUST be some mistake Perhaps she is not sure of our consent—his fathers and mine very right of her—very right I honour her for her indecision But she must be assured to the contrary—my boys peace must not be sacrificed You understand Phineas
Ay perhaps better than she did herself poor mother
Yet when in answer to the hasty knock I caught a glimpse of Miss Silver opening the door—Miss Silver with hair all falling down dishevelled and features swollen with crying—I went away completely at fault as the standersby seemed doomed to be in all love affairs I began to hope that this would settle itself somehow—in all parties understanding one another after the good old romantic fashion and living very happy to the end of their lives
I saw nothing more of any one until teatime when Mrs Halifax and the governess came in together Something in their manner struck me—one being subdued and gentle the other tender and kind Both however were exceedingly grave—nay sad but it appeared to be that sadness which is received as inevitable and is quite distinct from either anger or resentment
Neither Guy nor Edwin nor the father were present When Johns voice was heard in the hall Miss Silver had just risen to retire with Maud
Goodnight for I shall not come downstairs again she said hastily
Goodnight the mother answered in the same whisper—rose kissed her kindly and let her go
When Edwin and his father appeared they too looked remarkably grave—as grave as if they had known by intuition all the trouble in the house Of course no one referred to it The mother merely noticed how late they were and how tired they both looked Supper passed in silence and then Edwin took up his candle to go to bed
His father called him back Edwin you will remember
I will father
Something is amiss with Edwin said his mother when the two younger boys had closed the door behind them What did you wish him to remember
Her husbands sole reply was to draw her to him with that peculiarly tender gaze which she knew well to be the forewarning of trouble trouble he could not save her from—could only help her to bear Ursula laid her head on his shoulder with one deep sob of longsmothered pain
I suppose you know all I thought you would soon guess Oh John our happy days are over Our children are children no more
But ours still love—always will be ours
What of that when we can no longer make them happy When they look for happiness to others and not to us My own poor boy To think that his mother can neither give him comfort nor save him pain any more
She wept bitterly
When she was somewhat soothed John making her sit down by him but turning a little from her bade her tell him all that had happened today A few words explained the history of Guys rejection and its cause
She loves some one else When I—as his mother—went and asked her the question she confessed this
And what did you say
What could I say I could not blame her I was even sorry for her She cried so bitterly and begged me to forgive her I said I did freely and hoped she would be happy
That was right I am glad you said so Did she tell you who he—this lover was
No She said she could not until he gave her permission That whether they would ever be married she did not know She knew nothing save that he was good and kind and the only creature in the world who had ever cared for her
Poor girl
John—startled by his manner—you have something to tell me You know who this is—this man who has stood between my son and his happiness
Yes I do know
I cannot say how far the mother saw—what as if by a flash of lightning I did but she looked up in her husbands face with a sudden speechless dread
Love it is a great misfortune but it is no ones blame—neither ours nor theirs—they never thought of Guys loving her He says so—Edwin himself
Is it Edwin—in a cry as if her heart was breaking His own brother—his very own brother Oh my poor Guy
Well might the mother mourn Well might the father look as if years of care had been added to his life that day For a disaster like this happening in any household—especially a household where love is recognized as a tangible truth neither to be laughed at passed carelessly over nor lectured down—makes the family cease to be a family in many things from henceforward The two strongest feelings of life clash the bond of brotherly unity in its perfectness is broken for ever
For some minutes we sat bewildered as it were thinking of the tale as if it had been told of some other family than ours Mechanically the mother raised her eyes the first object they chanced to meet was a rude watercolour drawing kept coarse daub as it was because it was the only reminder we had of what never could be recalled—one redcheeked child with a hoop staring at another redcheeked child with a nosegay—supposed to represent little Edwin and little Guy
Guy taught Edwin to walk Edwin made Guy learn his letters How fond they were of one another—those two boys Now—brother will be set against brother They will never feel like brothers—never again
Love—
Dont John dont speak to me just yet It is so terrible to think of Both my boys—both my two noble boys to be made miserable for that girls sake Oh that she had never darkened our doors Oh that she had never been born
Nay you must not speak thus Remember—Edwin loves her—she will be Edwins wife
Never cried the mother desperately I will not allow it Guy is the eldest His brother has acted meanly So has she No John I will NOT allow it
You will not allow what has already happened—what Providence has permitted to happen Ursula you forget—they love one another
This one fact—this solemn upholding of the preeminent right and law of love—which law John believed in they both believed in so sacredly and firmly—appeared to force itself upon Mrs Halifaxs mind Her passion subsided
I cannot judge clearly You can—always Husband help me
Poor wife—poor mother he muttered caressing her and in that caress himself all but giving way—Alas that I should have brought thee into such a sea of trouble
Perhaps he referred to the circumstance of his bringing Miss Silver into our house perhaps to his own blindness or want of parental caution in throwing the young people continually together However John was not one to lament over things inevitable or by overweening blame of his own want of foresight to imply a doubt of the foreseeing of Providence
Love he said I fear we have been too anxious to play Deus ex machina with our children forgetting in whose Hands are marrying and giving in marriage—lifes crosses and lifes crowns Trouble has come when we looked not for it We can but try to see the right course and seeing it to act upon it
Ursula assented—with a bursting heart it seemed—but still she assented believing even as in her young days that her husbands will was wisest best
He told her in few words all that Edwin had that day confessed to his father how these two being much together had become attached to one another as young folks will—couples whom no one would ever think suited each for each except Nature and the instinct of their own hearts Absorbed in this love—which Edwin solemnly declared was never openly declared till this morning—they neither of them thought of Guy And thus things had befallen—things which no earthly power could remove or obliterate—things in which whatever way we looked all seemed darkness We could but walk blindly on a step at a time trusting to that Faith of which all our lives past had borne confirmation—the firm faith that evil itself is to the simple and Godfearing but the disguised messenger of good
Something like this John said talking as his wife loved to hear him talk—every quiet low word dropping like balm upon her grieved heart not trying to deceive her into the notion that pain is not pain but showing her how best to bear it At length she looked up as if with Gods help—and her husbands comforting—she could bear it
Only one thing—Guy does not know He need not know just yet—not till he is stronger Surely Edwin will not tell him
No he promised me he would not Do not start so Indeed there is no fear
But that very assurance seemed to rouse it She began straining her ears to catch the least noise in the rooms overhead—the boys rooms Guy and Walter shared one Edwin had his to himself
They surely will not meet Yet Guy sometimes likes sitting over Edwins fire Hark—was not that the creaking of Guys roomdoor
Love— detaining her
I know John I am not thinking of going Guy might suspect something No indeed I am not afraid They were always fond of one another—my boys
She sat down violently forcing herself not to listen not to fear But the truth was too strong for her
Hark I am sure they are talking John you said Edwin promised
Faithfully promised
But if by some accident Guy found out the truth Hark they are talking very loud That is a chair fallen Oh John—dont keep me My boys—my boys And she ran upstairs in an agony
What a sight for a mothers eyes Two brothers of whom it had been our boast that from babyhood they had never been known to lift a hand against each other—now struggling together like Cain and Abel And from the fury in their faces the quarrel might have had a similar ending
Guy—Edwin But the mother might as well have shrieked to the winds
The father came and parted them Boys are you gone mad fighting like brutes in this way Shame Guy Edwin I trusted you
I could not help it father He had no right to steal into my room no right to snatch her letter from me
It was her letter then cried Guy furiously She writes to you You were writing back to her
Edwin made no answer but held out his hand for the letter with that look of white passion in him so rarely seen—perhaps not thrice since his infancy Guy took no heed
Give it me back Guy I warn you
Not till I have read it I have a right
You have none She is mine
Yours Guy laughed in his face
Yes mine Ask my father—ask my mother They know
Mother—the letter fell from the poor lads hand Mother YOU would not deceive me He only says it to vex me I was in a passion I know Mother it isnt true
His piteous tone—the almost childish way in which he caught at her sleeve as she turned from him—ah poor Guy
Edwin is it my brother Edwin Who would have thought it Halfbewildered he looked from one to the other of us all but no one spoke no one contradicted him
Edwin his passion quite gone stooped in a sorrowful and humble way to pick up his betrotheds letter Then Guy flew at him and caught him by the collar
You coward—how dared you—No I wont hurt him she is fond of him Go away every one of you Oh mother mother mother
He fell on her neck sobbing She gathered him in her arms as she had used to do in his childhood and so we left them
AS ONE WHOM HIS MOTHER COMFORTETH
Ay Prophet of Israel thou wert wise
CHAPTER XXXIV
John and I sat over the study fire till long after midnight
Many an anxious watch I had kept with him but none sadder than this Because now for the first time our house was divided against itself A sorrow had entered it not from without but from within—a sorrow which we could not meet and bear as a family Alas darker and darker had the bitter truth forced itself upon us that neither joy nor affliction would ever find us as a family again
I think all parents must feel cruelly a pang like this—the first trouble in which they cannot help their children—the first time when those children must learn to stand alone each for himself compelled to carry his own burthen and work out well or ill his individual life When the utmost the wisest or tenderest father can do is to keep near with outstretched hand that the child may cling to assured of finding sympathy counsel and love
If this father had stood aloof all his life on some pinnacle of paternal pride paternal dignity—if he had not made himself his boys companion counsellor and friend how great would have been his terrors now
For as we both knew well—too well to trust ourselves to say it—if there was one thing in the world that ruins a lad drives him to desperation shuts the door of home upon him and opens many another door of which the entrance is the very gate of hell—it is such a disappointment as this which had happened to our Guy
His father saw it all Saw it clearer crueller than even his mother could see Yet when very late almost at dawn she came in with the tidings that Guy was himself again now—sleeping as quietly as a child—her husband was able to join in her deep thankfulness and give her hope for the days to come
But what is to be done with Guy
God knows John answered But his tone expressed a meaning different from that generally conveyed in the words a meaning which the mother caught at once and rested on
Ay—you are right He knows—And so they went away together almost content
Next morning I woke late the sunshine falling across my bed and the sparrows chattering loud in the ivy I had been dreaming with a curious pertinacity of the old days at Rose Cottage the days when John first fell in love with Ursula
Uncle Phineas I heard myself called
It was Johns son who sat opposite with wan wild eyes and a settled anguish on his mouth—that merry handsome mouth—the only really handsome mouth in the family
You are up early my boy
What was the good of lying in bed I am not ill Besides I wish to go about as usual I dont wish anybody to think that—that I care
He stopped—evidently fighting hard against himself A new lesson alas for our Guy
Was I too violent last night I did not mean it I mean to be a man Not the first man whom a lady has refused—eh And braving it out he began to whistle but the lips fell—the frank brow grew knotted with pain The lad broke into a passion of misery
The chief bitterness was that he had been deceived Unwittingly we well believed—but still deceived Many little things he told me—Guys was a nature that at once spent and soothed itself by talking—of Miss Silvers extreme gentleness and kindness towards him a kindness which seemed so like so cruelly like love
Love—Oh she loved me She told me so Of course—I was Edwins brother
Ay there was the sting which never could be removed which might rankle in the boys heart for life He had not only lost his love but what is more precious than love—faith in womankind He began to make light of his losings—to think the prize was not so great after all He sat on my bed singing—Guy had a fine voice and ear—singing out of mockery songs which I had an especial aversion to—light songs written by an Irishman Mr Thomas Moore about girls and wine and being far from the lips we love but always ready enough to make love to the lips we are near Then laughing at me he threw up the window and looked out
I think it was wrong of those two wrong and selfish as all lovers are—young lovers in the flush of their happiness I think it was cruel of Edwin and Louise to walk up and down there in the elder brothers very eyes
For a moment he struggled against his passion
Uncle Phineas just look here How charming Ha ha Did you ever see such a couple of fools
Fools maybe but happy happy to the very core—thoroughly engrossed in their happiness The elder brother was almost maddened by it
He must mind what he does—tell him so Uncle Phineas—it would be safer He MUST mind or I will not answer for myself I was fond of Edwin—I was indeed—but now it seems sometimes as if I HATED him
Guy
Oh if it had been a stranger and not he If it had been any one in the world except my brother
And in that bitter cry the lads heart melted again it was such a tender heart—his mothers heart
After a time he recovered himself and came down with me to breakfast as he had insisted upon doing met them all even Miss Silver—and Edwin who had placed himself by her side with an air of right These lovers however deeply grieved they looked—and to do justice it was really so—needed not to be grieved over by any of us
Nor looking at the father and mother would we have dared to grieve over THEM In the silent watches of the night heart to heart husband and wife had taken council together together had carried their sorrow to the only Lightener of burthens It seemed that theirs was lightened that even in this strange entanglement of fate they were able to wait patiently—trusting unto the Almighty Mercy not only themselves but the children He had given them
When breakfast being over John according to his custom read the chapter and the prayer—no one rose up or went out no one refused even in this anguish of strife jealousy and disunion—to repeat after him the Our Father of their childhood
I believe every one of us remembered for years with an awe that was not altogether pain this mornings chapter and prayer
When it was ended worldly troubles closed round us again
Nothing seemed natural We hung about in twos and threes uncertain what to do Guy walked up and down alone His mother asked him if seeing his foot was so well he would like to go down to the mills as usual but he declined Miss Silver made some suggestion about lessons which Edwin jealously negatived immediately and proposed that she and Maud should take a drive somewhere
Mrs Halifax eagerly assented Lady Oldtower has been wanting them both for some time You would like to go would you not for a day or two said she addressing the governess
Guy caught at this Going away are you When
He put the question to Miss Silver direct—his eyes blazing right into her own She made some confused reply about leaving immediately
In the carriage of course Shall I have the honour of driving you
No said Edwin decisively
A fierce vindictive look passed between the brothers—a look terrible in itself—more terrible in its warning of days to come No wonder the mother shuddered—no wonder the young betrothed pale and alarmed slipped out of the room Edwin followed her Then Guy snatching up his sister lifted her roughly on his knee
Come along Maud Youll be my girl now Nobody else wants you Kiss me child
But the little lady drew back
So you hate me too Edwin has been teaching you Very well Get away you cheat
He pushed her violently aside Maud began to cry
Her father looked up from his book—the book he had not been reading—though he had seemingly thought it best to take no notice of what was passing around him
Come here Maud my child Guy you should not be unkind to your little sister Try and command yourself my dear boy
The words though spoken gently almost in a whisper were more than the lads chafed spirit could brook
Father you insult me I will not bear it I will quit the room
He went out shutting the door passionately after him His mother rose up to follow him—then sat down again The eyes that she lifted to her husband were deprecating beseeching heavy with a speechless pain
For John—he said nothing Not though as was plain to see this the first angry or disrespectful word he had ever received from any one of his children struck him like an arrow for a moment stirred him even to wrath—holy wrath—the just displeasure of a father who feels that the least portion of his childs sin is the sin against him Perhaps this very feeling distinct from and far beyond all personal indignation all sense of offended dignity made the anger strangely brief—so brief that when the other children awed and startled looked for some ebullition of it—lo it was all gone In its stead was something at which the children more awed still crept out of the room
Ursula even alarmed looked in his face as if for the first time she could not comprehend her husband
John you should forgive poor Guy he did not intend any harm
No—no
And he is so very miserable Never before did he fail in his duty to you
But what if I have failed in mine to him—What if—you used to say I could not understand Guy—what if I have come short towards him I that am accountable to God for every one of my children
John—John—she knelt down and put her arms round his neck Husband do not look unhappy I did not mean to blame you—we may be wrong both of us—all of us But we will not be afraid We know Who pities us even as we pity our children
Thus she spoke and more to the same purport but it was a long time before her words brought any consolation Then the parents talked together trying to arrange some plan whereby Guys mind might be occupied and soothed or else Edwin removed out of his sight for a little while Once I hinted at the advantage of Guys leaving home but Mrs Halifax seemed to shrink from this project as though it were a foreboding of perpetual exile
No no anything but that Beside Guy would not wish it He has never left me in his life His going would seem like the general breaking up of the family
Alas she did not would not see that the family was already broken Broken more than either absence marriage or death itself could have effected
One thing more we had to consider—a thing at once natural and right in any family namely how to hide its wounds from the chattering scandalous world And so when by a happy chance there came over that morning our good friend Lady Oldtower and her carriage full of daughters Mrs Halifax communicated with a simple dignity that quelled all comment the fact of my son Edwins engagement and accepted the invitation for Maud and Miss Silver which was willingly repeated and pressed
One thing I noticed that in speaking of or to the girl who in a single day from merely the governess had become and was sedulously treated as our own Mrs Halifax invariably called her as heretofore Miss Silver or my dear never by any chance Louise or Mademoiselle DArgent
Before she left Beechwood Edwin came in and hurriedly spoke to his mother What he said was evidently painful to both
I am not aware of it Edwin I had not the slightest intention of offending her Is she already made your judge and referee as to the actions of your mother
Edwin was a good lad though perhaps a little less loving than the rest of the boys His selfrestraint his exceeding patience lulled the threatened storm
But you will be kind to her mother—I know you will
Did I not say so
And may I bring her to you here
If you choose
It was the first open recognition between the mother and her sons betrothed Their other meeting had been in public when with a sedulous dread both had behaved exactly as usual and no word or manner had betrayed their altered relations Now when for the first time it was needful for Miss Silver to be received as a daughter elect with all the natural sympathy due from one woman to another under similar circumstances all the warmth of kindness due from a mother to her sons chosen wife—then the want the mournful want made itself felt
Mrs Halifax stood at the diningroom window trying vainly to regain selfcontrol
If I could only love her If only she had made me love her she muttered over and over again
I hoped from the bottom of my soul that Edwin had not heard her—had not seen her involuntarily recoil as he led to his mother his handsome girl that he seemed so proud of his happy affianced wife Happiness melts some natures like spring and sunshine Louise looked up with swimming eyes
Oh be kind to me Nobody was ever kind to me till I came here
The good heart gave way Mrs Halifax opened her arms
Be true to Edwin—love Edwin and I shall love you—I am sure I shall
Kissing her once or twice the mother let fall a few tears then sat down still keeping the girls hand and busying herself with various little kindnesses about her
Are you sure you are well wrapped up Edwin see that she has my fur cloak in the carriage What cold fingers Have some wine before you start my dear
Miss Silver altogether melted sobbing she murmured something about forgiveness
Nay did I say a word about forgiveness Then do not you Let us be patient—we shall all be happy in time
And—Guy
Guy will be himself soon returned the mother rather proudly We will not mention him if you please my dear
At this moment Guy must have heard the carriagewheels and guessed Miss Silver was going for he appeared at the parlour door He found his mother toying with Miss Silvers hand Edwin standing by proud and glad with his arm clasped round Louise
He did not remove it In his brothers very face—perhaps because of the expression of that face—the lover held fast his own
Mrs Halifax rose up alarmed She is just going Guy Shake hands and bid her goodbye
The girls hand which was sorrowfully and kindly extended Guy snatched and held fast
Let her pass cried Edwin angrily
Most certainly I have not the least wish to detain her Goodbye A pleasant journey And still keeping her hand he gazed with burning eyes on the features he had so loved—as boys do love—with a wild imaginative passion kindled by beauty alone I shall claim my right—just for once—may I sister Louise
With a glance of defiance at Edwin Guy caught his brothers betrothed round the waist and kissed her—once—twice—savagely
It was done so suddenly and under such an ingenious disguise of right that open vengeance was impossible But as Edwin hurried Louise away the look that passed between the two young men was enough to blot out henceforward all friendship all brotherhood That insult would never be forgotten
She was gone—the house was free of her and Edwin too Guy was left alone with me and his mother
Mrs Halifax sat sewing She seemed to take no note of his comings and goings—his restless starts—his fits of dark musing when his face grew like the face of some stranger some one whom he would have shrunk from—any one but our own merry Guy
Mother—the voice startled me such irritable intolerable bitterness marred its once pleasant tones—when do they come back
Do you mean—
I mean those people
In a week or so Your brother returns tonight of course
My BROTHER eh Better not say it—its an ugly word
Mrs Halifax attempted no reproof she knew that it would have been useless—worse than useless—then
Mother Guy said at last coming up and leaning against her chair you must let me go
Where my son
Anywhere—out of their sight—those two You see I cannot bear it It maddens me—makes me wicked—makes me not myself Or rather makes me truly MYSELF which is altogether wicked
No Guy—no my own boy Have patience—all this will pass away
It might if I had anything to do Mother kneeling down by her with a piteous gaze—mother you need not look so wretched I wouldnt harm Edwin—would not take from him his happiness but to live in sight of it day after day hour after hour—I cant do it Do not ask me—let me get away
But where
Anywhere as I said only let me go far away from them where no possible news of them can reach me In some place oh mother darling where I can trouble no one and make no one miserable
The mother feebly shook her head As if such a spot could be found on earth while SHE lived
But she saw that Guy was right To expect him to remain at home was cruelty As he had said he could not bear it—few could Few even among women—of men much fewer One great renunciation is possible sometimes easy as death may be but to die daily In youth too with all the passions vehement the selfknowledge and selfcontrol small No Nature herself in that universal desire to escape which comes with such a trial hints at the unnaturalness of the ordeal in which soon or late the weak become paralysed or callous the strong—God help them—are apt to turn wicked
Guys instinct of flight was his mother felt wisest safest best
My boy you shall have your desire you shall go
I had not expected it of her—at least not so immediately I had thought bound up in him as she was accustomed to his daily sight his daily fondness—for he was more with her and petted her more than any other of the children—I had thought to have seen some reluctance some grieved entreaty—but no Not even when gaining her consent the boy looked up as if her allowing him to quit her was the greatest kindness she had ever in his life bestowed
And when shall I go
Whenever you choose
Today perhaps I might get away today
You can if you wish my dear boy
But no sooner had she said it than the full force and meaning of the renunciation seemed to burst upon her Her fingers which had been smoothing Guys hand as it lay on her lap tightly closed round it with the other hand she put back his hair gazing—gazing as if it were impossible to part with him
Guy—oh Guy my heart is breaking Promise that you will try to be yourself again—that you will never be anything other than my own good boy if I agree to let you go What he answered or what further passed between them was not for me either to hear or to know I left the room immediately
When some time after Johns hour for returning from the mills I also returned to the house I found that everything was settled for Guys immediate departure
There was some business in Spain—something about Andalusian wool—which his father made the ostensible reason for the journey It would occupy him and distract his mind besides giving him constant necessity of change And they say travel is the best cure for the heartache We hoped it might prove so
Perhaps the sorest point and one that had been left undecided till both parents saw that in Guys present mood any opposition was hurtful even dangerous was the lads obstinate determination to depart alone He refused his mothers companionship to London even his fathers across the country to the nearest point where one of those new and dangerous things called railways tempted travellers to their destruction But Guy would go by it—the maddest and strangest way of locomotion pleased him best So it was settled he should go as he pleaded this very day
A strange day it seemed—long and yet how short Mrs Halifax was incessantly busy I caught sight of her now and then flitting from room to room with Guys books in her hand—Guys linen thrown across her arm Sometimes she stood a few minutes by the window doing a few stitches of necessary work which when even nurse Watkins offered to do—Jenny who had been a rosy lass when Guy was born—she refused abruptly and went stitching on
There were no regular meals that day better not perhaps I saw John come up to his wife as she stood sewing and bring her a piece of bread and a glass of wine—but she could not touch either
Mother try whispered Guy mournfully What will become of me if I have made you ill
Oh no fear no fear She smiled took the wine and swallowed it—broke off a bit of the bread—and went on with her work
The last hour or two passed so confusedly that I do not well remember them I can only call to mind seeing Guy and his mother everywhere side by side doing everything together as if grudging each instant remaining till the final instant came I have also a vivid impression of her astonishing composure of her calm voice when talking to Guy about indefinite trifles or though that was seldom to any other of us It never faltered—never lost its rich round cheerfulness of tone as if she wished him to carry it as such and no other—the familiar mothers voice—in his memory across the seas
Once only it grew sharp when Walter who hovered about disconsolately knelt down to fasten his brothers portmanteau
No Let go I can do everything myself
And now the time was fast flying—her boy must depart
All the household collected in the hall to bid Mr Guy goodbye—Mr Guy whom everybody was so fond of They believed—which was all that any one save ourselves ever knew—that sudden business had called him away on a long and anxious journey They lingered about him respectfully with eager honest blessings such as it was good the lad should have—good that he should bear away with him from England and from home
Finally Guy his father and his mother went into the study by themselves Soon even his father came out and shut the door that there should be not a single witness to the last few words between mother and son These being over they both came into the hall together brave and calm—which calmness was maintained even to the last goodbye
Thus we sent our Guy away cheerfully and with blessings—away into the wide dangerous world alone with no guard or restraint except and in that EXCEPT lay the whole mystery of our cheerfulness—the fear of God his fathers counsels and his mothers prayers
CHAPTER XXXV
Two years rolled over Beechwood—two uneventful years The last of the children ceased to be a child and we prepared for that great era in all household history the first marriage in the family It was to be celebrated very quietly as Edwin and Louise both desired Time had healed over many a pang and taught many a soothing lesson still it could not be supposed that this marriage was without its painfulness
Guy still remained abroad his going had produced the happy result intended Month after month his letters came each more hopeful than the last each bringing balm to the mothers heart Then he wrote to others beside his mother Maud and Walter replied to him in long homehistories and began to talk without hesitation—nay with great pride and pleasure—of my brother who is abroad
The family wound was closing the family peace about to be restored Maud even fancied Guy ought to come home to our wedding—but then she had never been told the whole of past circumstances and besides she was still too young to understand love matters Yet so mercifully had time smoothed down all things that it sometimes appeared even to us elders as if those three days of bitterness were a mere dream—as if the year we dreaded had passed as calmly as any other year Save that in this interval Ursulas hair had begun to turn from brown to grey and John first mentioned so cursorily that I cannot even now remember when or where that slight pain almost too slight to complain of which he said warned him in climbing Enderley Hill that he could not climb so fast as when he was young And I returned his smile telling him we were evidently growing old men and must soon set our faces to descend the hill of life Easy enough I was in saying this thinking as I often did with great content that there was not the faintest doubt which of us would reach the bottom first
Yet I was glad to have safely passed my half century of life—glad to have seen many of Johns cares laid to rest more especially those external troubles which I have not lately referred to—for indeed they were absorbed and forgotten in the hometroubles that came after He had lived down all slanders as he said he would Far and near travelled the story of the day when Jessops bank was near breaking far and near though secretly—for we found it out chiefly by its results—poor people whispered the tale of a gentleman who had been attacked on the high roads and whose only attempt at bringing the robbers to justice was to help the widow of one and send the others safe out of the country at his own expense not Governments None of these were notable or showy deeds—scarcely one of them got even under the disguise of asterisks into the newspaper the Norton Bury Mercury for its last dying sting still complained and very justly that there was not a gentleman in the county whose name so seldom headed a charity subscription as that of John Halifax Esquire of Beechwood But the right made its way as soon or late the right always does he believed his good name was able to defend itself and it did defend itself he had faith in the only victory worth having—the universal victory of Truth and Truth conquered at last
To drive with him across the country—he never carried pistols now—or to walk with him as one day before Edwins wedding we walked a goodly procession through the familiar streets of Norton Bury was a perpetual pleasure to the rest of the family Everybody knew him everybody greeted him everybody smiled as he passed—as though his presence and his recognition were good things to have and to win His wife often laughed and said she doubted whether even Mr OConnell of Derrynane who was just now making a commotion in Ireland lighting the fire of religious and political discord from one end to the other of County Clare—she doubted if even Daniel OConnell had more popularity among his own people than John Halifax had in the primitive neighbourhood where he had lived so long
Mrs Halifax herself was remarkably gay this morning She had had letters from Guy together with a lovely present for which he said he had ransacked all the magazins des modes in Paris—a white embroidered China shawl It had arrived this morning—Lord Ravenel being the bearer This was not the first time by many that he had brought us news of our Guy and thereby made himself welcome at Beechwood More welcome than he might have been otherwise for his manner of life was so different from ours Not that Lord Ravenel could be accused of any likeness to his father but blood is blood and education and habits are not to be easily overcome The boys laughed at him for his aristocratic languid ways Maud teased him for his mild cynicism and the little interest he seemed to take in anything while the mother herself was somewhat restless about his coming wondering what possible good his acquaintance could do to us or ours to him seeing we moved in totally different spheres But John himself was invariably kind nay tender over him—we all guessed why And perhaps even had not the young man had so many good points while his faults were more negations than positive ill qualities we likewise should have been tender over him—for Muriels sake
He had arrived at Beechwood this morning and falling as usual into our family routine had come with us to Norton Bury He looked up with more interest than usual in his pensive eyes as he crossed the threshold of our old house and told Maud how he had come there many years ago with his father
That was the first time I ever met your father I overheard him say to Maud—not without feeling as if he thought he owed fate some gratitude for the meeting
Mrs Halifax in the casual civil inquiry which was all the old earl ever won in our house asked after the health of Lord Luxmore
He is still at Compiegne Does not Guy mention him Lord Luxmore takes the greatest pleasure in Guys society
By her start this was evidently new and not welcome tidings to Guys mother No wonder Any mother in England would have shrank from the thought that her bestbeloved son—especially a young man of Guys temperament and under Guys present circumstances—was thrown into the society which now surrounded the debauched dotage of the toonotorious Earl of Luxmore
My son did not mention it He has been too much occupied in business matters to write home frequently since he reached Paris However his stay there is limited and this seemed to relieve her I doubt if he will have much time left to visit Compiegne
She said no more than this of course to Lord Luxmores son but her disquiet was sufficiently apparent
It was I who brought your son to Compiegne—where he is a universal favourite from his wit and liveliness I know no one who is a more pleasant companion than Guy
Guys mother bowed—but coldly
I think Mrs Halifax you are aware that the earls tastes and mine differ widely—have always differed But he is an old man and I am his only son He likes to see me sometimes and I go—though I must confess I take little pleasure in the circle he has around him
In which circle as I understand my son is constantly included
Why not It is a very brilliant circle The whole court of Charles Dix can afford none more amusing For the rest what matters One learns to take things as they seem without peering below the surface One wearies of impotent Quixotism against unconquerable evils
That is not our creed at Beechwood said Mrs Halifax abruptly as she ceased the conversation But ever and anon it seemed to recur to her mind—ay through all the mirth of the young people all the graver pleasure which the father took in the happiness of his son Edwin his good son who had never given him a single care He declared this settling of Edwin had been to him almost like the days when he himself used to come of evenings hammer in hand to put up shelves in the house or nail the currantbushes against the wall doing everything con amore and with the utmost care knowing it would come under the quick observant eyes of Ursula March
That is of Ursula Halifax—for I dont think I let her see a single one of my wonderful doings until she was Ursula Halifax Do you remember Phineas when you came to visit us the first time and found us gardening
And she had on a white gown and a straw hat with blue ribbons What a young thing she looked—hardly older than Mistress Maud here
John put his arm round his wifes waist—not so slender as it had been but comely and graceful still repeating—with something of the musical cadence of his boyish readings of poetry—a line or two from the sweet old English song
And when with envy Time transported
Shall think to rob us of our joys
Youll in your girls again be courted
And Ill go wooing with my boys
Ursula laughed and for the time being the shadow passed from her countenance Her husband had happily not noticed it and apparently she did not wish to tell him her trouble She let him spend a happy day even grew happy herself in response to his care to make her so by the resolute putting away of all painful present thoughts and calling back of sweet and soothing memories belonging to this their old married home John seemed determined that if possible the marriage that was to be should be as sacred and as hopeful as their own
So full of it were we all that not until the day after when Lord Ravenel had left us—longing apparently to be asked to stay for the wedding but John did not ask him—I remembered what he had said about Guys association with Lord Luxmores set It was recalled to me by the mothers anxious face as she gave me a foreign letter to post
Post it yourself will you Phineas I would not have it miscarry or be late in its arrival on any account
No for I saw it was to her son at Paris
It will be the last letter I shall need to write she added again lingering over it to be certain that all was correct—the address being somewhat illegible for that free firm hand of hers My boy is coming home
Guy coming home To the marriage
No but immediately after He is quite himself now He longs to come home
And his mother
His mother could not speak Like light to her eyes like life to her heart was the thought of Guys coming home All that week she looked ten years younger With a step buoyant as any girls she went about the marriage preparations together with other preparations perhaps dearer still to the motherly heart where if any preference did lurk it was for the one for whom—possibly from whom—she had suffered most of all her children
John too though the fathers joy was graver and not unmixed with some anxiety—anxiety which he always put aside in his wifes presence—seemed eager to have his son at home
He is the eldest son he repeated more than once when talking to me of his hope that Guy would now settle permanently at Beechwood After myself the head of the family
After John It was almost ridiculous to peer so far into the future as that
Of all the happy faces I saw the day before the marriage I think the happiest was Mrs Halifaxs as I met her coming out of Guys room which ever since he left had been locked up unoccupied Now his mother threw open the door with a cheerful air
You may go in if you like Uncle Phineas Does it not look nice
It did indeed with the fresh white curtains the bed laid all in order the bookshelves arranged and even the fowlingpiece and fishingrod put in the right places
The room looked very neat I said with an amused doubt as to how long it was to remain so
That is true indeed How he used to throw his things about A sad untidy boy And his mother laughed but I saw all her features were trembling with emotion
He will not be exactly a boy now I wonder if we shall find him much changed
Very likely Brown with a great beard he said so in one of his letters I shall hardly know my boy again—With a lightingup of the eye that furnished a flat contradiction to the mothers statement
Here are some of Mrs Tods roses I see
She made me take them She said Master Guy always used to stop and pick a bunch as he rode past She hopes she shall see him ride past on Sunday next Guy must pay her one of his very first visits the good old soul
I hinted that Guy would have to pay visits half over the country to judge by the number of invitations I had heard of
Yes Everybody wants to steal my boy Everybody has a welcome for him—How bright old Watkins has polished that gun—Sir Herbert says Guy must come over to the shooting next week He used to be exceedingly fond of going to the manorhouse
I smiled to see the innocent smile of this good mother who would have recoiled at the accusation of matchmaking Yet I knew she was thinking of her great favourite pretty Grace Oldtower who was Grace Oldtower still and had refused gossip said half the brilliant matches in the county to the amazement and strong disapprobation of all her friends—excepting Mrs Halifax
Come away Phineas slightly sighing as if her joy weighed her down or as if conscious that she was letting fancy carry her too far into the unknown future His room is quite ready now whatever time the boy arrives Come away
She shut and locked the door To be opened—when
Morning broke and none could have desired a brighter marriagemorning Sunshine out of doors—sunshine on all the faces within only family faces—for no other guests had been invited and we had kept the day as secret as we could there was nothing John disliked more than a showwedding Therefore it was with some surprise that while they were all upstairs adorning themselves for church Maud and I standing at the halldoor saw Lord Ravenels travelling carriage drive up to it and Lord Ravenel himself with a quicker and more decided gesture than was natural to him spring out
Maud ran into the porch startling him much apparently for indeed she was a sweet vision of youth happiness and grace in her pretty bridesmaids dress
Is this the weddingmorning I did not know—I will come again tomorrow and he seemed eager to escape back to his carriage
This action relieved me from a vague apprehension of ill tidings and made less painful the first question which rose to my lips Had he seen Guy
No
We thought for the moment it might be Guy come home Maud cried We are expecting him Have you heard of him since we saw you Is he quite well
I believe so
I thought the answer brief but then he was looking intently upon Guys sister who held his hands in her childish affectionate way she had not yet relinquished her privilege of being Lord Ravenels pet When hesitatingly he proposed returning to Luxmore unwilling to intrude upon the marriage the little lady would not hear of it for a moment She took the unexpected guest to the study left him there with her father explained to her mother all about his arrival and his having missed seeing Guy—appearing entirely delighted
I came into the drawingroom and sat watching the sun shining on marriagegarments and marriagefaces all as bright as bright could be—including the mothers It had clouded over for a few moments when the postmans ring was heard but she said at once that it was most unlikely Guy would write—she had told him there was no need to write So she stood content smoothing down the soft folds of her beautiful shawl which Guy meant her to wear today This together with his fond remembrance of her seemed almost as comfortable as the visible presence of her boy Her boy who was sure to come tomorrow
John is that you How softly you came in And Lord Ravenel He knows we are glad to see him Shall we make him one of our own family for the time being and take him with us to see Edwin married
Lord Ravenel bowed
Maud tells us you have not seen Guy I doubt if he will be able to arrive today but we fully expect him tomorrow
Lord Ravenel bowed again Mrs Halifax said something about this unexpected arrival of his
He came on business John answered quickly and Ursula made no more inquiries
She stood talking with Lord Ravenel—as I could see her stand now playing with the deep fringe of her shawl the sun glancing on that rich silk dress of her favourite silvergrey a picture of matronly grace and calm content as charming as even the handsome happy bride
I was still looking at her when John called me aside I followed him to the study
Shut the door
By his tone and look I knew in a moment that something had happened
Yes Ill tell you presently—if theres time
While he was speaking some violent pain—physical or mental or both—seemed to seize him I had my hand on the door to call Ursula but he held me fast with a kind of terror
Call no one I am used to it Water
He drank a glassful which stood by breathed once or twice heavily and gradually recovered himself The colour had scarcely come back into his face when he heard Maud run laughing through the hall
Father where are you We are waiting for you
I will come in two minutes my child
Having said this in his own natural voice he closed the door again and spoke to me rapidly
Phineas I want you to stay away from church make some excuse or I will for you Write a letter for me to this address in Paris Say—Guy Halifaxs father will be there without fail within a week to answer all demands
All demands I echoed bewildered
He repeated the sentence word for word Can you remember it Literally mind And post it at once before we return from church
Here the mothers call was heard John are you coming
In a moment love for her hand was on the door outside but her husband held the other handle fast He then went on breathlessly You understand Phineas And you will be careful very careful SHE MUST NOT KNOW—not till tonight
One word Guy is alive and well
Yes—yes
Thank God
But Guys father was gone while I spoke Heavy as the news might be—this ill news which had struck me with apprehension the moment I saw Lord Ravenel—it was still endurable I could not conjure up any grief so bitter as the boys dying
Therefore with a quietness that came naturally under the compulsion of such a necessity as the present I rejoined the rest made my excuses and answered all objections I watched the marriageparty leave the house A simple procession—the mother first leaning on Edwin then Maud Walter and Lord Ravenel John walked last with Louise upon his arm Thus I saw them move up the garden and through the beechwood to the little church on the hill
I then wrote the letter and sent it off That done I went back into the study Knowing nothing—able to guess nothing—a dull patience came over me the patience with which we often wait for unknown inevitable misfortunes Sometimes I almost forgot Guy in my startled remembrance of his fathers look as he called me away and sat down—or rather dropped down—into his chair Was it illness yet he had not complained he hardly ever complained and scarcely had a days sickness from year to year And as I watched him and Louise up the garden I had noticed his free firm gait without the least sign of unsteadiness or weakness Besides he was not one to keep any but a necessary secret from those who loved him He could not be seriously ill or we should have known it
Thus I pondered until I heard the church bells ring out merrily The marriage was over
I was just in time to meet them at the front gates which they entered—our Edwin and his wife—through a living line of smiling faces treading upon a carpet of strewn flowers Enderley would not be defrauded of its welcome—all the village escorted the young couple in triumph home I have a misty recollection of how happy everybody looked how the sun was shining and the bells ringing and the people cheering—a mingled phantasmagoria of sights and sounds in which I only saw one person distinctly—John
He waited while the young folk passed in—stood on the hallsteps—in a few words thanked his people and bade them to the general rejoicing They uproarious answered in loud hurrahs and one energetic voice cried out
One cheer more for Master Guy
Guys mother turned delighted—her eyes shining with proud tears
John—thank them tell them that Guy will thank them himself tomorrow
The master thanked them but either he did not explain—or the honest rude voices drowned all mention of the latter fact—that Guy would be home tomorrow
All this while and at the marriagebreakfast likewise Mr Halifax kept the same calm demeanour Once only when the rest were all gathered round the bride and bridegroom he said to me
Phineas is it done
What is done asked Ursula suddenly passing
A letter I asked him to write for me this morning
Now I had all my life been proud of Johns face—that it was a safe face to trust in—that it could not or if it could it would not boast that stony calm under which some men are so proud of disguising themselves and their emotions from those nearest and dearest to them If he were sad we knew it if he were happy we knew it too It was his principle that nothing but the strongest motive should make a man stoop to even the smallest hypocrisy
Therefore hearing him thus speak to his wife I was struck with great alarm Mrs Halifax herself seemed uneasy
A business letter I suppose
Partly on business I will tell you all about it this evening
She looked reassured Just as you like you know I am not curious But passing on she turned back John if it was anything important to be done—anything that I ought to know at once you would not keep me in ignorance
No—my dearest No
Then what had happened must be something in which no help availed something altogether past and irremediable something which he rightly wished to keep concealed for a few hours at least from his other children so as not to mar the happiness of this day of which there could be no second this crowning day of their lives—this weddingday of Edwin and Louise
So he sat at the marriagetable he drank the marriagehealth he gave them both a marriageblessing Finally he sent them away smiling and sorrowful—as is the bounden duty of young married couples to depart—Edwin pausing even on the carriagestep to embrace his mother with especial tenderness and whisper her to give his love to Guy
It reminds one of Guys leaving said the mother hastily brushing back the tears that would spring and roll down her smiling face She had never until this moment reverted to that miserable day John do you think it possible the boy can be at home tonight
John answered emphatically but very softly No
Why not My letter would reach him in full time Lord Ravenel has been to Paris and back since then But— turning full upon the young nobleman—I think you said you had not seen Guy
No
Did you hear anything of him
I—Mrs Halifax—
Exceedingly distressed almost beyond his power of selfrestraint the young man looked appealingly to John who replied for him
Lord Ravenel brought me a letter from Guy this morning
A letter from Guy—and you never told me How very strange
Still she seemed only to think it strange Some difficulty or folly perhaps—you could see by the sudden flushing of her cheek and her quick distrustful glance at Lord Ravenel what she imagined it was—that the boy had confessed to his father With an instinct of concealment—the mothers instinct—for the moment she asked no questions
We were all still standing at the halldoor Unresisting she suffered her husband to take her arm in his and bring her into the study
Now—the letter please Children go away I want to speak to your father The letter John
Her hand which she held out shook much She tried to unfold the paper—stopped and looked up piteously
It is not to tell me he is not coming home I can bear anything you know—but he MUST come
John only answered Read—and took firm hold of her hand while she read—as we hold the hand of one undergoing great torture—which must be undergone and which no human love can either prepare for or remove or alleviate
The letter which I saw afterwards was thus
DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER
I have disgraced you all I have been drunk—in a gaminghouse A man insulted me—it was about my father—but you will hear—all the world will hear presently I struck him—there was something in my hand and—the man was hurt
He may be dead by this time I dont know
I am away to America tonight I shall never come home any more God bless you all
GUY HALIFAX
PS I got my mothers letter today Mother—I was not in my right senses or I should not have done it Mother darling forget me Dont let me have broken your heart
Alas he had broken it
Never come home any more— Never come home any more
She repeated this over and over again vacantly nothing but these five words
Nature refused to bear it or rather Nature mercifully helped her to bear it When John took his wife in his arms she was insensible and remained so with intervals for hours
This was the end of Edwins weddingday
CHAPTER XXXVI
Lord Ravenel knew—as all Paris did by this time—the whole story Though as he truly said he had not seen Guy The lad was hurried off immediately for fear of justice but he had written from shipboard to Lord Ravenel begging him himself to take the letter and break the news to us at Beechwood
The man he had struck was not one of Lord Luxmores set—though it was through some of his noble friends Guy had fallen into his company He was an Englishman lately succeeded to a baronetcy and estate his name—how we started to hear it though by Lord Ravenel and by us for his sake it was both pronounced and listened to as if none of us had ever heard it before—Sir Gerard Vermilye
As soon as Ursula recovered Mr Halifax and Lord Ravenel went to Paris together This was necessary not only to meet justice but to track the boy—to whose destination we had no clue but the wide world America Guys mother hurried them away—his mother who rose from her bed and moved about the house like a ghost—upstairs and downstairs—everywhere—excepting in that room which was now once more locked and the outer blind drawn down as if Death himself had taken possession there
Alas we learned now that there may be sorrows bitterer even than death
Mr Halifax went away Then followed a long season of torpid gloom—days or weeks I hardly remember—during which we living shut up at Beechwood knew that our name—Johns stainless honourable name—was in everybodys mouth—parrotted abroad in every society—canvassed in every newspaper We tried Walter and I to stop them at first dreading lest the mother might read in some foul print or other scurrilous tales about her boy or as long remained doubtful learn that he was proclaimed through France and England as a homicide—an assassin But concealments were idle—she would read everything—hear everything—meet everything—even those neighbours who out of curiosity or sympathy called at Beechwood Not many times though they said they could not understand Mrs Halifax So after a while they all left her alone except good little Grace Oldtower
Come often I heard her say to this girl whom she was fond of they had sat talking a whole morning—idly and pensively of little things around them never once referring to things outside Come often though the house is dull Does it not feel strange with Mr Halifax away
Ay this was the change—stranger at first than what had befallen Guy—for that long seemed a thing we could not realise like a story told of some other family than ours The present tangible blank was the house with its head and master away
Curiously enough but from his domestic habits easily accountable he had scarcely ever been more than a few days absent from home before We missed him continually in his place at the head of the table in his chair by the fire his quick ring at the hall bell when he came up from the mills—his step—his voice—his laugh The life and soul of the house seemed to have gone out of it from the hour the father went away
I think in the wonderful workings of things—as we know all things do work together for good—this fact was good for Ursula It taught her that in losing Guy she had not lost all her blessings It showed her what in the passion of her motherlove she might have been tempted to forget—many mothers do—that beyond all maternal duty is the duty that a woman owes to her husband beyond all loves is the love that was hers before any of them were born
So gradually as every day Johns letters came—and she used to watch for them and seize them as if they had been loveletters as every day she seemed to miss him more and count more upon his return referring all decisions and all little pleasures planned for her to the time when your father comes home—hope and comfort began to dawn in the heart of the mourning mother
And when at last John fixed the day of his coming back I saw Ursula tying up the small bundle of his letters—his letters of which in all her happy life she had had so few—his tender comforting comfortable letters
I hope I shall never need to have any more she said halfsmiling—the faint smile which began to dawn in her poor face as if she must accustom it to look bright again in time for her husbands coming
And when the day arrived she put all the house in trim order dressed herself in her prettiest gown sat patient while Maud brushed and curled her hair—how white it had turned of late—and then waited with a flush on her cheek—like that of a young girl waiting for her lover—for the sound of carriagewheels
All that had to be told about Guy—and it was better news than any one of us had hoped for—John had already told in his letters When he came back therefore he was burthened with no trouble undisclosed—greeted with no anguish of fear or bitter remembrance As he sprang out of the postchaise it was to find his wife standing at the door and his home smiling for him its brightest welcome No blessing on earth could be like the blessing of the fathers return
John looked pale but not paler than might have been expected Grave too—but it was a soft seriousness altogether free from the restlessness of keen anxiety The first shock of this heavy misfortune was over He had paid all his sons debts he had as far as was possible saved his good name he had made a safe home for the lad and heard of his safely reaching it in the New World Nothing more was left but to cover over the inevitable grief and hope that time would blot out the intolerable shame That since Guys hand was clear of blood—and since his recovery Sir Gerard Vermilye had risen into a positive hero of society—mens minds would gradually lose the impression of a deed committed in heat of youth and repented of with such bitter atonement
So the father took his old place and looked round on the remnant of his children grave indeed but not weighed down by incurable suffering Something deeper even than the hard time he had recently passed through seemed to have made his home more than ever dear to him He sat in his armchair never weary of noticing everything pleasant about him of saying how pretty Beechwood looked and how delicious it was to be at home And perpetually if any chance unlinked it his hand would return to its clasp of Ursulas the minute she left her place by his side his restless Love where are you going would call her back again And once when the children were out of the room and I sitting in a dark corner was probably thought absent likewise I saw John take his wifes face between his two hands and look in it—the fondest most lingering saddest look—then fold her tightly to his breast
I must never be away from her again Mine—for as long as I live mine—MY wife MY Ursula
She took it all naturally as she had taken every expression of his love these nineandtwenty years I left them standing eye to eye heart to heart as if nothing in this world could ever part them
Next morning was as gay as any of our mornings used to be for before breakfast came Edwin and Louise And after breakfast the father and mother and I walked up and down the garden for an hour talking over the prospects of the young couple Then the post came—but we had no need to watch for it now It only brought a letter from Lord Ravenel
John read it somewhat more seriously than he had been used to read these letters—which for the last year or so had come often enough—the boys usually quizzing and Mistress Maud vehemently defending the delicate small handwriting the exquisite paper the coronetted seal and the frank in the corner John liked to have them and his wife also—she being not indifferent to the fact confirmed by many other facts that if there was one man in the world whom Lord Ravenel honoured and admired it was John Halifax of Beechwood But this time her pleasure was apparently damped and when Maud claiming the letter as usual spread abroad delightedly the news that her Lord Ravenel was coming shortly I imagined this visit was not so welcome as usual to the parents
Yet still as many a time before when Mr Halifax closed the letter he sighed looked sorrowful saying only Poor Lord Ravenel
John asked his wife speaking in a whisper for by tacit consent all public allusion to his doings at Paris was avoided in the family—did you by any chance hear anything of—You know whom I mean
Not one syllable
You inquired He assented I knew you would She must be almost an old woman now or perhaps she is dead Poor Caroline
It was the first time for years and years that this name had been breathed in our household Involuntarily it carried me back—perhaps others besides me—to the day at Longfield when little Guy had devoted himself to his pretty lady when we first heard that other name which by a curious conjuncture of circumstances had since become so fatally familiar and which would henceforward be like the sound of a deathbell in our family—Gerard Vermilye
On Lord Ravenels reappearance at Beechwood—and he seemed eager and glad to come—I was tempted to wish him away He never crossed the threshold but his presence brought a shadow over the parents looks—and no wonder The young people were gay and friendly as ever made him always welcome with us and he rode over daily from desolate longuninhabited Luxmore where in all its desolation he appeared so fond of abiding
He wanted to take Maud and Walter over there one day to see some magnificent firs that were being cut down in a wholesale massacre leaving the grand old Hall as bare as a workhouse front But the father objected he was clearly determined that all the hospitalities between Luxmore and Beechwood should be on the Beechwood side
Lord Ravenel apparently perceived this Luxmore is not Compiegne he said to me with his dreary smile halfsad halfcynical Mr Halifax might indulge me with the society of his children
And as he lay on the grass—it was full summer now—watching Mauds white dress flit about under the trees I saw or fancied I saw something different to any former expression that had ever lighted up the soft languid mien of William Lord Ravenel
How tall that child has grown lately She is about nineteen I think
Not seventeen till December
Ah so young—Well it is pleasant to be young—Dear little Maud
He turned on one side hiding the sun from his eyes with those delicate ringed hands—which many a time our boys had laughed at saying they were mere ladys hands fit for no work at all
Perhaps Lord Ravenel felt the cloud that had come over our intercourse with him a cloud which considering late events was scarcely unnatural for when evening came his leavetaking always a regret seemed now as painful as his blase indifference to all emotions pleasant or unpleasant could allow He lingered—he hesitated—he repeated many times how glad he should be to see Beechwood again how all the world was to him flat stale and unprofitable except Beechwood
John made no special answer except that frank smile not without a certain kindly satire under which the young noblemans Byronic affectations generally melted away like mists in the morning He kindled up into warmth and manliness
I thank you Mr Halifax—I thank you heartily for all you and your household have been to me I trust I shall enjoy your friendship for many years And if in any way I might offer mine or any small influence in the world—
Your influence is not small John returned earnestly I have often told you so I know no man who has wider opportunities than you have
But I have let them slip—for ever
No not for ever You are young still you have half a lifetime before you
Have I And for the moment one would hardly have recognized the sallow spiritless face that with all the delicacy of boyhood still at times looked so exceedingly old No no Mr Halifax who ever heard of a man beginning life at sevenandthirty
Are you really sevenandthirty asked Maud
Yes—yes my girl Is it so very old
He patted her on the shoulder took her hand gazed at it—the round rosy girlish hand—with a melancholy tenderness then bade Goodbye to us all generally and rode off
It struck me then though I hurried the thought away—it struck me afterwards and does now with renewed surprise—how strange it was that the mother never noticed or took into account certain possibilities that would have occurred naturally to any worldly mother I can only explain it by remembering the unworldliness of our lives at Beechwood the heavy cares which now pressed upon us from without and the notable fact—which our own family experience ought to have taught us yet did not—that in cases like this often those whom one would have expected to be most quicksighted are the most strangely irretrievably mournfully blind
When the very next day Lord Ravenel not on horseback but in his rarelyused luxurious coronetted carriage drove up to Beechwood every one in the house except myself was inconceivably astonished to see him back again
He said that he had delayed his journey to Paris and gave no explanation of that delay He joined as usual in our midday dinner and after dinner still as usual took a walk with me and Maud It happened to be through the beechwood almost the identical path that I remembered taking years and years ago with John and Ursula I was surprised to hear Lord Ravenel allude to the fact a wellknown fact in our family for I think all fathers and mothers like to relate and all children to hear the slightest incidents of the parents courting days
You did not know father and mother when they were young said Maud catching our conversation and flashing back her innocent merry face upon us
No scarcely likely And he smiled Oh yes—it might have been—I forget I am not a young man now How old were Mr and Mrs Halifax when they married
Father was twentyone and mother was eighteen—only a year older than I And Maud half ashamed of this suggestive remark ran away Her gay candour proved to me—perhaps to others besides me—the girls entire freeheartedness The frank innocence of childhood was still hers
Lord Ravenel looked after her and sighed It is good to marry early do you not think so Mr Fletcher
I told him—I was rather sorry after I had said it if one ought to be sorry for having when questioned given ones honest opinion—I told him that I thought those happiest who found their happiness early but that I did not see why happiness should be rejected because it was the will of Providence that it should not be found till late
I wonder he said dreamily I wonder whether I shall ever find it
I asked him—it was by an impulse irresistible—why he had never married
Because I never found any woman either to love or to believe in Worse he added bitterly I did not think there lived the woman who could be believed in
We had come out of the beechwood and were standing by the low churchyard wall the sun glittered on the white marble headstone on which was inscribed Muriel Joy Halifax
Lord Ravenel leaned over the wall his eyes fixed upon that little grave After a while he said sighing
Do you know I have thought sometimes that had she lived I could have loved—I might have married—that child
Here Maud sprang towards us In her playful tyranny which she loved to exercise and he to submit to she insisted on knowing what Lord Ravenel was talking about
I was saying he answered taking both her hands and looking down into her bright unshrinking eyes I was saying how dearly I loved your sister Muriel
I know that and Maud became grave at once I know you care for me because I am like my sister Muriel
If it were so would you be sorry or glad
Glad and proud too But you said or you were going to say something more What was it
He hesitated long then answered
I will tell you another time
Maud went away rather cross and dissatisfied but evidently suspecting nothing For me I began to be seriously uneasy about her and Lord Ravenel
Of all kinds of love there is one which common sense and romance have often combined to hold obnoxious improbable or ridiculous but which has always seemed to me the most real and pathetic form that the passion ever takes—I mean love in spite of great disparity of age Even when this is on the womans side I can imagine circumstances that would make it far less ludicrous and pitiful and there are few things to me more touching more full of sad earnest than to see an old man in love with a young girl
Lord Ravenels case would hardly come under this category yet the difference between seventeen and thirtyseven was sufficient to warrant in him a trembling uncertainty and eager catching at the skirts of that vanishing youth whose preciousness he never seemed to have recognized till now It was with a mournful interest that all day I watched him follow the child about gather her posies help her to water her flowers and accommodate himself to those whims and fancies of which as the pet and the youngest Mistress Maud had her full share
When at her usual hour of halfpast nine the little lady was summoned away to bed to keep up her roses he looked half resentful of the mothers interference
Maud is not a child now and this may be my last night— he stopped sensitively at the involuntary foreboding
Your last night Nonsense you will come back soon again You must—you shall said Maud decisively
I hope I may—I trust in Heaven I may
He spoke low holding her hand distantly and reverently not attempting to kiss it as in all his former farewells he had invariably done
Maud remember me However or whenever I come back dearest child be faithful and remember me
Maud fled away with a sob of childish pain—partly anger the mother thought—and slightly apologized to the guest for her daughters naughtiness
Lord Ravenel sat silent for a long long time
Just when we thought he purposed leaving he said abruptly Mr Halifax may I have five minutes speech with you in the study
The five minutes extended to half an hour Mrs Halifax wondered what on earth they were talking about I held my peace At last the father came in alone
John is Lord Ravenel gone
Not yet
What could he have wanted to say to you
John sat down by his wife picked up the ball of her knitting rolled and unrolled it She saw at once that something had grieved and perplexed him exceedingly Her heart shrunk back—that still sore heart—recoiled with a not unnatural fear
Oh husband is it any new misfortune
No love cheering her with a smile nothing that fathers and mothers in general would consider as such He has asked me for our Maud
What for was the mothers first exceedingly simple question—and then she guessed its answer Impossible Ridiculous—absolutely ridiculous She is only a child
Nevertheless Lord Ravenel wishes to marry our little Maud
Lord Ravenel wishes to marry our Maud
Mrs Halifax repeated this to herself more than once before she was able to entertain it as a reality When she did the first impression it made upon her mind was altogether pain
Oh John I hoped we had done with these sort of things I thought we should have been left in peace with the rest of our children
John smiled again for indeed there was a comical side to her view of the subject but its serious phase soon returned doubly so when looking up they both saw Lord Ravenel standing before them Firm his attitude was firmer than usual and it was with something of his fathers stately air mingled with a more chivalric and sincerer grace that he stooped forward and kissed the hand of Mauds mother
Mr Halifax has told you all I believe
He has
May I then with entire trust in you both await my answer
He waited it patiently enough with little apparent doubt as to what it would be Besides it was only the prior question of parental consent not the vital point of Mauds preference And with all his natural humility Lord Ravenel might be forgiven if brought up in the world he was aware of his position therein—nor quite unconscious that it was not merely William Ravenel but the only son and heir of the Earl of Luxmore who came awooing
Not till after a long pause and even a whispered word or two between the husband and wife who knew each others minds so well that no more consultation was needed—did the suitor again with a more formal air ask for an answer
It is difficult to give I find that my wife like myself had no idea of your feelings The extreme suddenness—
Pardon me my intention has not been sudden It is the growth of many months—years I might almost say
We are the more grieved
Grieved
Lord Ravenels extreme surprise startled him from the mere suitor into the lover he glanced from one to the other in undisguised alarm John hesitated the mother said something about the great difference between them
In age do you mean I am aware of that he answered with some sadness But twenty years is not an insuperable bar in marriage
No said Mrs Halifax thoughtfully
And for any other disparity—in fortune—or rank—
I think Lord Ravenel—and the mother spoke with her dignified air—you know enough of my husbands character and opinions to be assured how lightly he would hold such a disparity—if you allude to that supposed to exist between the son of the Earl of Luxmore and the daughter of John Halifax
The young nobleman coloured as if with ingenuous shame at what he had been implying I am glad of it Let me assure you there will be no impediments on the side of my family The earl has long wished me to marry He knows well enough that I can marry whom I please—and shall marry for love only Give me your leave to win your little Maud
A dead silence
Again pardon me Lord Ravenel said with some hauteur I cannot have clearly explained myself Let me repeat Mr Halifax that I ask your permission to win your daughters affection and in due time her hand
I would that you had asked of me anything that it could be less impossible to give you
Impossible What do you mean—Mrs Halifax— He turned instinctively to the woman—the mother
Ursulas eyes were full of a sad kindness—the kindness any mother must feel towards one who worthily woos her daughter—but she replied distinctly—
I feel with my husband that such a marriage would be impossible
Lord Ravenel grew scarlet—sat down—rose again and stood facing them pale and haughty
If I may ask—your reasons
Since you ask—certainly John replied Though believe me I give them with the deepest pain Lord Ravenel do you not yourself see that our Maud—
Wait one moment he interrupted There is not there cannot be any previous attachment
The supposition made the parents smile Indeed nothing of the kind she is a mere child
You think her too young for marriage then was the eager answer Be it so I will wait though my youth alas is slipping from me but I will wait—two years three—any time you choose to name
John needed not to reply The very sorrow of his decision showed how inevitable and irrevocable it was
Lord Ravenels pride rose against it
I fear in this my novel position I am somewhat slow of comprehension Would it be so great a misfortune to your daughter if I made her Viscountess Ravenel and in course of time Countess of Luxmore
I believe it would Her mother and I would rather see our little Maud lying beside her sister Muriel than see her Countess of Luxmore
These words hard as they were John uttered so softly and with such infinite grief and pain that they struck the young man not with anger but with an indefinite awe as if a ghost from his youth—his wasted youth—had risen up to point out that truth and show him that what seemed insult or vengeance was only a bitter necessity
All he did was to repeat in a subdued manner—Your reasons
Ah Lord Ravenel John answered sadly do you not see yourself that the distance between us and you is wide as the poles Not in worldly things but in things far deeper—personal things which strike at the root of love home—nay honour
Lord Ravenel started Would you imply that anything in my past life aimless and useless as it may have been is unworthy of my honour—the honour of our house
Saying this he stopped—recoiled—as if suddenly made aware by the very words himself had uttered what—contrasted with the unsullied dignity of the tradesmans life the spotless innocence of the tradesmans daughter—what a foul tattered rag fit to be torn down by an honest gust was that flaunting emblazonment the socalled honour of Luxmore
I understand you now The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children as your Bible says—your Bible that I had half begun to believe in Be it so Mr Halifax I will detain you no longer
John intercepted the young mans departure
No you do NOT understand me I hold no man accountable for any errors any shortcomings except his own
I am to conclude then that it is to myself you refuse your daughter
It is
Lord Ravenel once more bowed with sarcastic emphasis
I entreat you not to mistake me John continued most earnestly I know nothing of you that the world would condemn much that it would even admire but your world is not our world nor your aims our aims If I gave you my little Maud it would confer on you no lasting happiness and it would be thrusting my child my own flesh and blood to the brink of that whirlpool where soon or late every miserable life must go down
Lord Ravenel made no answer His newborn energy his pride his sarcasm had successively vanished dead passive melancholy resumed its empire over him Mr Halifax regarded him with mournful compassion
Oh that I had foreseen this I would have placed the breadth of all England between you and my child
Would you
Understand me Not because you do not possess our warm interest our friendship both will always be yours But these are external ties which may exist through many differences In marriage there must be perfect unity one aim one faith one love or the marriage is incomplete unholy—a mere civil contract and no more
Lord Ravenel looked up amazed at this doctrine then sat awhile pondering drearily
Yes you may be right at last he said Your Maud is not for me nor those like me Between us and you is that great gulf fixed—what did the old fable say I forget—Che sara sara I am but as others I am but what I was born to be
Do you recognize what you were born to be Not only a nobleman but a gentleman not only a gentleman but a man—man made in the image of God How can you how dare you give the lie to your Creator
What has He given me What have I to thank Him for
First manhood the manhood His Son disdained not to wear worldly gifts such as rank riches influence things which others have to spend half an existence in earning life in its best prime with much of youth yet remaining—with grief endured wisdom learnt experience won Would to Heaven that by any poor word of mine I could make you feel all that you are—all that you might be
A gleam bright as a boys hope wild as a boys daring flashed from those listless eyes—then faded
You mean Mr Halifax what I might have been Now it is too late
There is no such word as too late in the wide world—nay not in the universe What shall we whose atom of time is but a fragment out of an everpresent eternity—shall we so long as we live or even at our lifes ending dare to cry out to the Eternal One It is too late
As John spoke in much more excitement than was usual to him a sudden flush or rather spasm of colour flushed his face then faded away leaving him pallid to the very lips He sat down hastily in his frequent attitude with the left arm passed across his breast
Lord Ravenel His voice was faint as though speech was painful to him
The other looked up the old look of reverent attention which I remembered in the boylord who came to see us at Norton Bury in the young Anselmo whose enthusiastic heroworship had fixed itself with an almost unreasoning trust on Muriels father
Lord Ravenel forgive anything I have said that may have hurt you It would grieve me inexpressibly if we did not part as friends
Part
For a time we must I dare not risk further either your happiness or my childs
No not hers Guard it I blame you not The lovely innocent child God forbid she should ever have a life like mine
He sat silent his clasped hands listlessly dropping his countenance dreamy yet it seemed to me less hopelessly sad then with a sudden effort he rose
I must go now
Crossing over to Mrs Halifax he thanked her with much emotion for all her kindness
For your husband I owe him more than kindness as perhaps I may prove some day If not try to believe the best of me you can Goodbye
They both said goodbye and bade God bless him with scarcely less tenderness than if things had ended as he desired and instead of this farewell sad and indefinite beyond most farewells they were giving the parental welcome to a newlychosen son
Ere finally quitting us Lord Ravenel turned back to speak to John once more hesitatingly and mournfully
If she—if the child should ask or wonder about my absence—she likes me in her innocent way you know—you will tell her—What shall you tell her
Nothing It is best not
Ay it is it is
He shook hands with us all three without saying anything else then the carriage rolled away and we saw his face—that pale gentle melancholy face—no more
It was years and years before any one beyond ourselves knew what a near escape our little Maud had had of becoming Viscountess Ravenel—future Countess of Luxmore
CHAPTER XXXVII
It was not many weeks after this departure of Lord Ravenels—the pain of which was almost forgotten in the comfort of Guys first long home letter which came about this time—that John one morning suddenly dropping his newspaper exclaimed
Lord Luxmore is dead
Yes he had returned to his dust this old bad man so old that people had begun to think he would never die He was gone the man who if we owned an enemy in the world had certainly proved himself that enemy Something peculiar is there in a decease like this—of one whom living we have almost felt ourselves justified in condemning avoiding—perhaps hating Until Death stepping in between removes him to another tribunal than this petty justice of ours and laying a solemn finger on our mouths forbids us either to think or utter a word of hatred against that which is now—what—a disembodied spirit—a handful of corrupting clay
Lord Luxmore was dead He had gone to his account it was not ours to judge him We never knew—I believe no one except his son ever fully knew—the history of his deathbed
John sat in silence the paper before him long after we had passed the news and discussed it not without awe all round the breakfasttable
Maud stole up—hesitatingly and asked to see the announcement of the earls decease
No my child but you shall hear it read aloud if you choose
I guessed the reason of his refusal when looking over him as he read I saw after the long list of titles owned by the new Earl of Luxmore one bitter line how it must have cut to the heart of him whom we first heard of as poor William
HAD LIKEWISE ISSUE CAROLINE MARRIED IN 17— TO RICHARD BRITHWOOD ESQUIRE AFTERWARDS DIVORCED
And by a curious coincidence about twenty lines further down I read among the fashionable marriages
AT THE BRITISH EMBASSY PARIS SIR GERARD VERMILYE BART TO THE YOUTHFUL AND BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF—
I forget who I only saw that the name was not her name of whom the youthful and beautiful bride had most likely never heard He had not married Lady Caroline
This mornings intelligence brought the Luxmore family so much to our thoughts that driving out after breakfast John and I involuntarily recurred to the subject Nay talking on in the solitude of our front seat—for Mrs Halifax Miss Halifax and Mrs Edwin Halifax in the carriage behind were deep in some other subject—we fell upon a topic which by tacit consent had been laid aside as in our household we held it good to lay aside any inevitable regret
Poor Maud how eager she was to hear the news today She little thinks how vitally it might have concerned her
No John answered thoughtfully then asked me with some abruptness Why did you say poor Maud
I really could not tell it was a mere accident the unwitting indication of some crotchets of mine which had often come into my mind lately Crotchets perhaps peculiar to one who never having known a certain possession found himself rather prone to overrate its value But it sometimes struck me as hard considering how little honest and sincere love there is in the world that Maud should never have known of Lord Ravenels
Possibly against my will my answer implied something of this for John was a long time silent Then he began to talk of various matters telling me of many improvements he was planning and executing on his property and among his people In all his plans and in the carrying out of them I noticed one peculiarity strong in him throughout his life but latterly grown stronger than ever—namely that whatever he found to do he did immediately Procrastination had never been one of his faults now he seemed to have a horror of putting anything off even for a single hour Nothing that could be done did he lay aside until it was done his business affairs were kept in perfect order each days work being completed with the day And in the thousandandone little things that were constantly arising from his position as magistrate and landowner and his general interest in the movements of the time the same system was invariably pursued In his relations with the world outside as in his own little valley he seemed determined to work while it was day If he could possibly avoid it no application was ever unattended to no duty left unfinished no good unacknowledged no evil unremedied or at least unforgiven
John I said as today this peculiarity of his struck me more than usual thou art certainly one of the faithful servants whom the Master when He cometh will find watching
I hope so It ought to be thus with all men—but especially with me
I imagined from his tone that he was thinking of his responsibility as father master owner of large wealth How could I know—how could I guess—beyond this
Do you think she looks pale Phineas he asked suddenly
Who—your wife
No—Maud My little Maud
It was but lately that he called her his little Maud since with that extreme tenacity of attachment which was a part of his nature—refusing to put any one love in another loves place—his second daughter had never been to him like the first Now however I had noticed that he took Maud nearer to his heart made her more often his companion watching her with a sedulous tenderness—it was easy to guess why
She may have looked a little paler of late a little more thoughtful But I am sure she is not unhappy
I believe not—thank God
Surely I said anxiously you have never repented what you did about Lord Ravenel
No—not once It cost me so much that I know it was right to be done
But if things had been otherwise—if you had not been so sure of Mauds feelings—
He started painfully then answered—I think I should have done it still
I was silent The paramount right the high prerogative of love which he held as strongly as I did seemed attacked in its liberty divine For the moment it was as if he too had in his middleage gone over to the coldblooded ranks of harsh parental prudence despotic paternal rule as if Ursula Marchs lover and Mauds father were two distinct beings One finds it so often enough with men
John I said could you have done it could you have broken the childs heart
Yes if it was to save her peace perhaps her soul I could have broken my childs heart
He spoke solemnly with an accent of inexpressible pain as if this were not the first time by many that he had pondered over such a possibility
I wish Phineas to make clear to you in case of—of any future misconceptions—my mind on this matter One right alone I hold superior to the right of love—duty It is a fathers duty at all risks at all costs to save his child from anything which he believes would peril her duty—so long as she is too young to understand fully how beyond the claim of any human being be it father or lover is Gods claim to herself and her immortal soul Anything which would endanger that should be cut off—though it be the right hand—the right eye But thank God it was not thus with my little Maud
Nor with him either He bore his disappointment well
Nobly It may make a true nobleman of him yet But being what he is and for as long as he remains so he must not be trusted with my little Maud I must take care of her while I live afterwards—
His smile faded or rather was transmuted into that grave thoughtfulness which I had lately noticed in him when as now he fell into one of his long silences There was nothing sad about it rather a serenity which reminded me of that sweet look of his boyhood which had vanished during the manifold cares of his middle life The expression of the mouth as I saw it in profile—close and calm—almost inclined me to go back to the fanciful follies of our youth and call him David
We drove through Norton Bury and left Mrs Edwin there Then on along the familiar road towards the manorhouse past the white gate within sight of little Longfield
It looks just the same—the tenant takes good care of it And Johns eyes turned fondly to his old home
Ay just the same Do you know your wife was saying to me this morning that when Guy comes back when all the young folk are married and you retire from business and settle into the otium cum dignitate the learned leisure you used to plan—she would like to give up Beechwood She said she hopes you and she will end your days together at little Longfield
Did she Yes I know that has been always her dream
Scarcely a dream or one that is not unlikely to be fulfilled I like to fancy you both two old people sitting on either side the fire—or on the same side if you like it best very cheerful—you will make such a merry old man John with all your children round you and indefinite grandchildren about the house continually Or else you two will sit alone together just as in your early married days—you and your old wife—the dearest and handsomest old lady that ever was seen
Phineas—dont—dont I was startled by the tone in which he answered the lightness of mine I mean—dont be planning out the future It is foolish—it is almost wrong Gods will is not as our will and He knows best
I would have spoken but just then we reached the manorhouse gate and plunged at once into present life and into the hospitable circle of the Oldtowers
They were all in the excitement of a wonderful piece of gossip gossip so strange sudden and unprecedented that it absorbed all lesser matters It burst out before we had been in the house five minutes
Have you heard this extraordinary report about the Luxmore family
I could see Maud turn with eager attention—fixing her eyes wistfully on Lady Oldtower
About the earls death Yes we saw it in the newspaper And John passed on to some other point of conversation In vain
This news relates to the present earl I never heard of such a thing—never In fact if true his conduct is something which in its selfdenial approaches absolute insanity Is it possible that being so great a friend of your family he has not informed you of the circumstances
These circumstances with some patience we extracted from the voluble Lady Oldtower She had learnt them—I forget how but news never wants a tongue to carry it
It seemed that on the earls death it was discovered what had already been long suspected that his liabilities like his extravagances were enormous That he was obliged to live abroad to escape in some degree the clamorous haunting of the hundreds he had ruined poor tradespeople who knew that their only chance of payment was during the old mans lifetime for his whole property was entailed on the son
Whether Lord Ravenel had ever been acquainted with the state of things or whether being in ignorance of it his own style of living had in degree imitated his fathers rumour did not say nor indeed was it of much consequence The facts subsequently becoming known immediately after Lord Luxmores death made all former conjectures unnecessary
Not a week before he died the late earl and his son—chiefly it was believed on the latters instigation—had cut off the entail thereby making the whole property saleable and available for the payment of creditors Thus by his own act and—as some one had told somebody that somebody else had heard Lord Ravenel say for the honour of the family the present earl had succeeded to an empty title and—beggary
Or Lady Oldtower added what to a man of rank will be the same as beggary—a paltry two hundred a year or so—which he has reserved they say just to keep him from destitution Ah—here comes Mr Jessop I thought he would He can tell us all about it
Old Mr Jessop was as much excited as any one present
Ay—its all true—only too true Mr Halifax He was at my house last night
Last night I do not think anybody caught the childs exclamation but me I could not help watching little Maud noticing what strong emotion still perfectly childlike and unguarded in its demonstration was shaking her innocent bosom and overflowing at her eyes However as she sat still in the corner nobody observed her
Yes he slept at my house—Lord Ravenel the Earl of Luxmore I mean Much good will his title do him My head clerk is better off than he He has stripped himself of every penny except—bless me I forgot Mr Halifax he gave me a letter for you
John walked to the window to read it but having read it passed it openly round the circle as indeed was best
MY DEAR FRIEND
You will have heard that my father is no more
He used always to say the earl whispered Maud as she looked over my shoulder
I write this merely to say what I feel sure you will already have believed—that anything which you may learn concerning his affairs I was myself unaware of except in a very slight degree when I last visited Beechwood
Will you likewise believe that in all I have done or intend doing your interests as my tenant—which I hope you will remain—have been and shall be sedulously guarded
My grateful remembrance to all your household
Faithfully yours and theirs
LUXMORE
Give me back the letter Maud my child
She had been taking possession of it as in right of being his pet she generally did of all Lord Ravenels letters But now without a word of objection she surrendered it to her father
What does he mean Mr Jessop about my interests as his tenant
Bless me—I am so grieved about the matter that everything goes astray in my head He wished me to explain to you that he has reserved one portion of the Luxmore property intact—Enderley Mills The rent you pay will he says be a sufficient income for him and then while your lease lasts no other landlord can injure you Very thoughtful of him—very thoughtful indeed Mr Halifax
John made no answer
I never saw a man so altered He went over some matters with me—private charities in which I have been his agent you know—grave clearheaded businesslike my clerk himself could not have done better Afterwards we sat and talked and I tried—foolishly enough when the thing was done—to show him what a frantic act it was both towards himself and his heirs But he could not see it He said cutting off the entail would harm nobody—for that he did not intend ever to marry Poor fellow
Is he with you still John asked in a low tone
No he left this morning for Paris his father is to be buried there Afterwards he said his movements were quite uncertain He bade me goodbye—I—I didnt like it I can assure you
And the old man blowing his nose with his yellow pockethandkerchief and twitching his features into all manner of shapes seemed determined to put aside the melancholy subject and dilated on the earl and his affairs no more
Nor did any one Something in this young noblemans noble act—it has since been not without a parallel among our aristocracy—silenced the tongue of gossip itself The deed was so new—so unlike anything that had been conceived possible especially in a man like Lord Ravenel who had always borne the character of a harmless idle misanthropic nonentity—that society was really nonplussed concerning it Of the many loquacious visitors who came that morning to pour upon Lady Oldtower all the curiosity of Coltham—fashionable Coltham famous for all the scandal of haut ton—there was none who did not speak of Lord Luxmore and his affairs with an uncomfortable wondering awe Some suggested he was going mad—others raking up stories current of his early youth thought he had turned Catholic again and was about to enter a monastery One or two honest hearts protested that he was a noble fellow and it was a pity he had determined to be the last of the Luxmores
For ourselves—Mr and Mrs Halifax Maud and I—we never spoke to one another on the subject all the morning Not until after luncheon when John and I had somehow stolen out of the way of the visitors and were walking to and fro in the garden The sunny fruit garden—ancient Dutch and square—with its barricade of a high hedge a stone wall and between it and the house a shining fence of great laurel trees
Maud appeared suddenly before us from among these laurels breathless
I got away after you father I—I wanted to find some strawberries—and—I wanted to speak to you
Speak on little lady
He linked her arm in his and she paced between us up and down the broad walk—but without diverging to the strawberrybeds She was grave and paler than ordinary Her father asked if she were tired
No but my head aches Those Coltham people do talk so Father I want you to explain to me for I cant well understand all this that they have been saying about Lord Ravenel
John explained as simply and briefly as he could
I understand Then though he is Earl of Luxmore he is quite poor—poorer than any of us And he has made himself poor in order to pay his own and his fathers debts and keep other people from suffering from any fault of his Is it so
Yes my child
Is it not a very noble act father
Very noble
I think it is the noblest act I ever heard of I should like to tell him so When is he coming to Beechwood
Maud spoke quickly with flushed cheeks in the impetuous manner she inherited from her mother Her question not being immediately answered she repeated it still more eagerly
Her father replied—I do not know
How very strange I thought he would come at once—tonight probably
I reminded her that Lord Ravenel had left for Paris bidding goodbye to Mr Jessop
He ought to have come to us instead of to Mr Jessop Write and tell him so father Tell him how glad we shall be to see him And perhaps you can help him you who help everybody He always said you were his best friend
Did he
Ah now do write father dear—I am sure you will
John looked down on the little maid who hung on his arm so persuasively then looked sorrowfully away
My child—I cannot
What not write to him When he is poor and in trouble That is not like you father and Maud halfloosed her arm
Her father quietly put the little rebellious hand back again to its place He was evidently debating within himself whether he should tell her the whole truth or how much of it Not that the debate was new for he must already have foreseen this possible nay certain conjuncture Especially as all his dealings with his family had hitherto been open as daylight He held that to prevaricate or wilfully to give the impression of a falsehood is almost as mean as a direct lie When anything occurred that he could not tell his children he always said plainly I cannot tell you and they asked no more
I wondered exceedingly how he would deal with Maud
She walked with him submissive yet not satisfied glancing at him from time to time waiting for him to speak At last she could wait no longer
I am sure there is something wrong You do not care for Lord Ravenel as much as you used to do
More if possible
Then write to him Say we want to see him—I want to see him Ask him to come and stay a long while at Beechwood
I cannot Maud It would be impossible for him to come I do not think he is likely to visit Beechwood for some time
How long Six months A year perhaps
It may be several years
Then I was right Something HAS happened you are not friends with him any longer And he is poor—in trouble—oh father
She snatched her hand away and flashed upon him reproachful eyes John took her gently by the arm and made her sit down upon the wall of a little stone bridge under which the moat slipped with a quiet murmur Mauds tears dropped into it fast and free
That very outburst brief and thundery as a childs passion gave consolation both to her father and me When it lessened John spoke
Now has my little Maud ceased to be angry with her father
I did not mean to be angry—only I was so startled—so grieved Tell me what has happened please father
I will tell you—so far as I can Lord Ravenel and myself had some conversation of a very painful kind the last night he was with us After it we both considered it advisable he should not visit us again for the present
Why not Had you quarrelled or if you had I thought my father was always the first to forgive everybody
No Maud we had not quarrelled
Then what was it
My child you must not ask for indeed I cannot tell you
Maud sprang up—the rebellious spirit flashing out again Not tell me—me his pet—me that cared for him more than any of you did I think you ought to tell me father
You must allow me to decide that if you please
After this answer Maud paused and said humbly Does any one else know
Your mother and your uncle Phineas who happened to be present at the time No one else and no one else shall know
John spoke with that slight quivering and blueness of the lips which any mental excitement usually produced in him He sat down by his daughters side and took her hand
I knew this would grieve you and I kept it from you as long as I could Now you must only be patient and like a good child trust your father
Something in his manner quieted her She only sighed and said she could not understand it
Neither can I—often times my poor little Maud There are so many sad things in life that we have to take upon trust and bear and be patient with—yet never understand I suppose we shall some day
His eyes wandered upward to the widearched blue sky which in its calm beauty makes us fancy that Paradise is there even though we know that THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS WITHIN US and that the kingdom of spirits may be around us and about us everywhere
Maud looked at her father and crept closer to him—into his arms
I did not mean to be naughty I will try not to mind losing him But I liked Lord Ravenel so much—and he was so fond of me
Child—and her father himself could not help smiling at the simplicity of her speech—it is often easiest to lose those we are fond of and who are fond of us because in one sense we never can really lose them Nothing in this world nor I believe in any other can part those who truly and faithfully love
I think he was hardly aware how much he was implying at least not in its relation to her else he would not have said it And he would surely have noticed as I did that the word love which had not been mentioned before—it was liking fond of care for or some such roundabout childish phrase—the word love made Maud start She darted from one to the other of us a keen glance of inquiry and then turned the colour of a July rose
Her attitude her blushes the shy tremble about her mouth reminded me vividly too vividly of her mother twentyeight years ago
Alarmed I tried to hasten the end of our conversation lest voluntarily or involuntarily it might produce the very results which though they might not have altered Johns determination would almost have broken his heart
So begging her to kiss and make friends which Maud did timidly and without attempting further questions I hurried the father and daughter into the house deferring for mature consideration the question whether or not I should trouble John with any tooanxious doubts of mine concerning her
As we drove back through Norton Bury I saw that while her mother and Lady Oldtower conversed Maud sat opposite rather more silent than her wont but when the ladies dismounted for shopping she was again the lively independent Miss Halifax
Standing with reluctant feet
Where womanhood and childhood meet
and assuming at once the prerogatives and immunities of both
Her girlish ladyship at last got tired of silks and ribbons and stood with me at the shopdoor amusing herself with commenting on the passersby
These were not so plentiful as I once remembered though still the old town wore its old face—appearing fairer than ever as I myself grew older The same Coltham coach stopped at the Lamb Inn and the same group of idle loungers took an interest in its disemboguing of its contents But railways had done an ill turn to the coach and to poor Norton Bury where there used to be six inside passengers today was turned out only one
What a queerlooking little woman Uncle Phineas people shouldnt dress so fine as that when they are old
Mauds criticism was scarcely unjust The lightcoloured flimsy gown shorter than even Coltham fashionables would have esteemed decent the fluttering bonnet the abundance of flaunting curls—no wonder that the stranger attracted considerable notice in quiet Norton Bury As she tripped mincingly along in her silk stockings and light shoes a smothered jeer arose
People should not laugh at an old woman however conceited she may be said Maud indignantly
Is she old
Just look
And surely when as she turned from side to side I caught her full face—what a face it was withered thin sallow almost to deathliness with a bright rougespot on each cheek a broad smile on the ghastly mouth
Is she crazy Uncle Phineas
Possibly Do not look at her For I was sure this must be the wreck of such a life as womanhood does sometimes sink to—a life the mere knowledge of which had never yet entered our Mauds pure world
She seemed surprised but obeyed me and went in I stood at the shopdoor watching the increasing crowd and pitying with that pity mixed with shame that every honest man must feel towards a degraded woman the wretched object of their jeers Halffrightened she still kept up that set smile skipping daintily from side to side of the pavement darting at and peering into every carriage that passed Miserable creature as she looked there was a certain grace and ease in her movements as if she had fallen from some far higher estate
At that moment the Mythe carriage with Mr Brithwood in it dozing his daily drive away his gouty foot propped up before him—slowly lumbered up the street The woman made a dart at it but was held back
Canaille I always hated your Norton Bury Call my carriage I will go home
Through its coarse discordance its insane rage I thought I knew the voice Especially when assuming a tone of command she addressed the old coachman
Draw up Peter you are very late People give way Dont you see my carriage
There was a roar of laughter so loud that even Mr Brithwood opened his dull drunken eyes and stared about him
Canaille—the scream was more of terror than anger as she almost flung herself under the horses heads in her eagerness to escape from the mob Let me go My carriage is waiting I am Lady Caroline Brithwood
The squire heard her For a single instant they gazed at one another—besotted husband dishonoured divorced wife—gazed with horror and fear as two sinners who had been each others undoing might meet in the poetic torments of Dantes Inferno or the tangible fire and brimstone of many a blind but honest Christians hell One single instant—and then Richard Brithwood made up his mind
Coachman drive on
But the man—he was an old man—seemed to hesitate at urging his horses right over my lady He even looked down on her with a sort of compassion—I remembered having heard say that she was always kind and affable to her servants
Drive on you fool Here—and Mr Brithwood threw some coin amongst the mob—Fetch the constable—some of you take the woman to the watchhouse
And the carriage rolled on leaving her there crouched on the kerbstone gazing after it with something between a laugh and a moan
Nobody touched her Perhaps some had heard of her a few might even have seen her—driving through Norton Bury in her pristine state as the young squires handsome wife—the charming Lady Caroline
I was so absorbed in the sickening sight that I did not perceive how John and Ursula standing behind me had seen it likewise—evidently seen and understood it all
What is to be done she whispered to him
What ought we to do
Here Maud came running out to see what was amiss in the street
Go in child said Mrs Halifax sharply Stay till I fetch you
Lady Oldtower also advanced to the door but catching some notion of what the disturbance was shocked and scandalised retired into the shop again
John looked earnestly at his wife but for once she did not or would not understand his meaning she drew back uneasily
What must be done—I mean what do you want me to do
What only a woman can do—a woman like you and in your position
Yes if it were only myself But think of the household—think of Maud People will talk so It is hard to know how to act
Nay how did One act—how would He act now if He stood in the street this day If we take care of aught of His will He not take care of us and of our children
Mrs Halifax paused thought a moment hesitated—yielded
John you are right you are always right I will do anything you please
And then I saw through the astonished crowd in face of scores of windowgazers all of whom knew them and a great number of whom they also knew Mr Halifax and his wife walk up to where the miserable woman lay
John touched her lightly on the shoulder—she screamed and cowered down
Are you the constable He said he would send the constable
Hush—do not be afraid Cousin—Cousin Caroline
God knows how long it was since any woman had spoken to her in that tone It seemed to startle back her shattered wits She rose to her feet smiling airily
Madam you are very kind I believe I have had the pleasure of seeing you somewhere Your name is—
Ursula Halifax Do you remember—speaking gently as she would have done to a child
Lady Caroline bowed—a ghastly mockery of her former sprightly grace Not exactly but I dare say I shall presently—au revoir madame
She was going away kissing her hand—that yellow wrinkled old womans hand—but John stopped her
My wife wants to speak to you Lady Caroline She wishes you to come home with us
Plait il—oh yes I understand I shall be happy—most happy
John offered her his arm with an air of grave deference Mrs Halifax supported her on the other side Without more ado they put her in the carriage and drove home leaving Maud in my charge and leaving astounded Norton Bury to think and say exactly what it pleased
CHAPTER XXXVIII
For nearly three years Lady Caroline lived in our house—if that miserable existence of hers could be called living—bedridden fallen into second childhood
Pleased with a rattle tickled with a straw
oblivious to both past and present recognising none of us and taking no notice of anybody except now and then of Edwins little daughter baby Louise
We knew that all our neighbours talked us over making far more than a nine days wonder of the very extraordinary conduct of Mr and Mrs Halifax That even good Lady Oldtower hesitated a little before she suffered her tribe of fair daughters to visit under the same roof where lay quite out of the way that poor wreck of womanhood which would hardly have tainted any woman now But in process of time the gossip ceased of itself and when one summer day a small decent funeral moved out of our garden gate to Enderley churchyard all the comment was
Oh is she dead—What a relief it must be How very kind of Mr and Mrs Halifax
Yes she was dead and had made no sign either of repentance grief or gratitude Unless one could consider as such a moments lightening before death which Maud declared she saw in her—Maud who had tended her with a devotedness which neither father nor mother forbade believing that a woman cannot too soon learn womanhoods best mission—usefulness tenderness and charity Miss Halifax was certain that a few minutes before the last minute she saw a gleam of sense in the filmy eyes and stooping down had caught some feeble murmur about William—poor William
She did not tell me this she spoke of it to no one but her mother and to her briefly So the wretched life once beautiful and loveful was now ended or perhaps born in some new sphere to begin again its struggle after the highest beauty the only perfect love What are we that we should place limits to the infinite mercy of the Lord and Giver of Life unto whom all life returns
We buried her and left her—poor Lady Caroline
No one interfered with us and we appealed to no one In truth there was no one unto whom we could appeal Lord Luxmore immediately after his fathers funeral had disappeared whither no one knew except his solicitor who treated with and entirely satisfied the host of creditors and into whose hands the sole debtor John Halifax paid his yearly rent Therewith he wrote several times to Lord Luxmore but the letters were simply acknowledged through the lawyer never answered Whether in any of them John alluded to Lady Caroline I do not know but I rather think not as it would have served no purpose and only inflicted pain No doubt her brother had long since believed her dead as we and the world had done
In that same world one man even a nobleman is of little account Lord Ravenel sank in its wide waste of waters and they closed over him Whether he were drowned or saved was of small moment to any one He was soon forgotten—everywhere except at Beechwood and sometimes it seemed as if he were even forgotten there Save that in our family we found it hard to learn this easy convenient habit—to forget
Hard though seven years had passed since we saw Guys merry face to avoid missing it keenly still The mother as her years crept on oftentimes wearied for him with a yearning that could not be told The father as Edwin became engrossed in his own affairs and Walters undecided temperament kept him a boy long after boyhood often seemed to look round vaguely for an eldest sons young strength to lean upon often said anxiously I wish Guy were at home
Yet still there was no hint of his coming better he never came at all than came against his will or came to meet the least pain the shadow of disgrace And he was contented and prosperous in the western world leading an active and useful life earning an honourable name He had taken a partner he told us there was real friendship between them and they were doing well perhaps might make in a few years one of those rapid fortunes which clever men of business do make in America and did especially at that time
He was also eager and earnest upon other and higher cares than mere business entered warmly into his fathers sympathy about many political measures now occupying mens minds A great number of comparative facts concerning the factory children in England and America a mass of evidence used by Mr Fowell Buxton in his arguments for the abolition of slavery and many other things originated in the impulsive activity now settled into mature manly energy of Mr Guy Halifax of Boston US—our Guy
The lad is making a stir in the world said his father one day when we had read his last letter I shall not wonder if when he comes home a deputation from his native Norton Bury were to appear requesting him to accept the honour of representing them in Parliament He would suit them—at least as regards the canvassing and the ladies—a great deal better than his old father—eh love
Mrs Halifax smiled rather unwillingly for her husband referred to a subject which had cost her some pain at the time After the Reform Bill passed many of our neighbours who had long desired that one of Johns high character practical knowledge and influence in the town should be its MP and were aware that his sole objection to entering the House was the said question of Reform urged him very earnestly to stand for Norton Bury
To everybodys surprise and none more than our own he refused
Publicly he assigned no reason for this except his conviction that he could not discharge as he ought and as he would once have done duties which he held so sacred and indispensable His letter brief and simple thanking his good neighbours and wishing them a younger and worthier member might be found in some old file of the Norton Bury Herald still Even the Norton Bury Mercury in reprinting it commented on its touching honesty and brevity and—concluding his political career was ended with it—condescended to bestow on Mr Halifax the usual obituary line—
We could have better spared a better man
When his family and even his wife reasoned with him knowing that to enter Parliament had long been his thought nay his desire and perhaps herself taking a natural pride in the idea of seeing MP—MP of a new and unbribed House of Commons—after his wellbeloved name to us and to her he gave no clearer motive for his refusal than to the electors of Norton Bury
But you are not old John I argued with him one day you possess to the full the mens sana in corpore sano No man can be more fitted than yourself to serve his country as you used to say it might be served and you yourself might serve it after Reform was gained
He smiled and jocularly thanked me for my good opinion
Nay such service is almost your duty you yourself once thought so too Why have you changed your mind
I have not changed my mind but circumstances have changed my actions As for duty—duty begins at home Believe me I have thought well over the subject Brother we will not refer to it again
I saw that something in the matter pained him and obeyed his wish Even when a few days after perhaps as some compensation for the mothers disappointment he gave this hint of Guys taking his place and entering Parliament in his room
For any one—nay his own son—to take Johns place to stand in Johns room was not a pleasant thought even in jest we let it pass by unanswered and John himself did not recur to it
Thus time went on placidly enough the father and mother changed into grandfather and grandmother and little Maud into Auntie Maud She bore her new honours and fulfilled her new duties with great delight and success She had altered much of late years at twenty was as old as many a woman of thirty—in all the advantages of age She was sensible active resolute and wise sometimes thoughtful or troubled with fits of what in any less wholesome temperament would have been melancholy but as it was her humours only betrayed themselves in some slight restlessness or irritability easily soothed by a few tender words or a rush out to Edwins and a peaceful coming back to that happy home whose principal happiness she knew that she the only daughter made
She more than once had unexceptionable chances of quitting it for Miss Halifax possessed plenty of attractions both outwardly and inwardly to say nothing of her not inconsiderable fortune But she refused all offers and to the best of our knowledge was a freehearted damsel still Her father and mother seemed rather glad of this than otherwise They would not have denied her any happiness she wished for still it was evidently a relief to them that she was slow in choosing it slow in quitting their arms of love to risk a love untried Sometimes such is the weakness of parental humanity I verily believe they looked forward with complacency to the possibility of her remaining always Miss Halifax I remember one day when Lady Oldtower was suggesting—half jest half earnest—better any marriage than no marriage at all Mauds father replied very seriously—
Better no marriage than any marriage that is less than the best
How do you mean
I believe he said smiling that somewhere in the world every man has his right wife every woman her right husband If my Mauds come he shall have her If not I shall be well content to see her a happy old maid
Thus after many storms came this lull in our lives a season of busy yet monotonous calm—I have heard say that peace itself to be perfect ought to be monotonous We had enough of it to satisfy our daily need we looked forward to more of it in time to come when Guy should be at home when we should see safely secured the futures of all the children and for ourselves a green old age
Journeying in long serenity away
A time of heavenly calm—which as I look back upon it grows heavenlier still Soft summer days and autumn afternoons spent under the beechwood or on the Flat Quiet winter evenings all to ourselves—Maud and her mother working Walter drawing The father sitting with his back to the lamp—its light making a radiance over his brow and white bald crown and as it thrilled through the curls behind restoring somewhat of the youthful colour to his fading hair Nay the old youthful ring of his voice I caught at times when he found something funny in his book and read it out loud to us or laying it down sat talking as he liked to talk about things speculative philosophical or poetical—things which he had necessarily let slip in the hurry and press of his business life in the burthen and heat of the day but which now as the cool shadows of evening were drawing on assumed a beauty and a nearness and were again caught up by him—precious as the dreams of his youth
Happy happy time—sunshiny summer peaceful winter—we marked neither as they passed but now we hold both—in a sacredness inexpressible—a foretaste of that Land where there is neither summer nor winter neither days nor years
The first break in our repose came early in the new year There had been no Christmas letter from Guy and he never once in all his wanderings had missed writing home at Christmas time When the usual monthly mail came in and no word from him—a second month and yet nothing we began to wonder about his omission less openly—to cease scolding him for his carelessness Though over and over again we still eagerly brought up instances of the latter—Guy is such a thoughtless boy about his correspondence
Gradually as his mothers cheek grew paler and his father more anxiouseyed more compulsorily cheerful we gave up discussing publicly the many excellent reasons why no letters should come from Guy We had written as usual by every mail By the last—by the March mail I saw that in addition to the usual packet for Mr Guy Halifax—his father taking another precautionary measure had written in business form to Messrs Guy Halifax and Co Guy had always just like his carelessness omitted to give the name of his partner but addressed thus in case of any sudden journey or illness of Guys the partner whoever he was would be sure to write
In May—nay it was on May day I remember for we were down in the millmeadows with Louise and her little ones going amaying—there came in the American mail
It brought a large packet—all our letters of this year sent back again directed in a strange hand to John Halifax Esquire Beechwood with the annotation By Mr Guy Halifaxs desire
Among the rest—though the sickening sight of them had blinded even his mother at first so that her eye did not catch it was one that explained—most satisfactorily explained we said—the reason they were thus returned It was a few lines from Guy himself stating that unexpected good fortune had made him determine to come home at once If circumstances thwarted this intention he would write without fail otherwise he should most likely sail by an American merchantman—the StarsandStripes
Then he is coming home On his way home
And the mother as with one shaking hand she held fast the letter with the other steadied herself by the rail of Johns desk—I guessed now why he had ordered all the letters to be brought first to his countinghouse When do you think we shall see—Guy
At thought of that happy sight her bravery broke down She wept heartily and long
John sat still leaning over the front of his desk By his sigh deep and glad one could tell what a load was lifted off the fathers heart at the prospect of his sons return
The liners are only a month in sailing but this is a barque most likely which takes longer time Love show me the date of the boys letter
She looked for it herself It was in JANUARY
The sudden fall from certainty to uncertainty—the wild clutch at that which hardly seemed a real joy until seen fading down to a mere hope a chance a possibility—who has not known all this
I remember how we all stood mute and panicstruck in the dark little countinghouse I remember seeing Louise with her children in the doorway trying to hush their laughing and whispering to them something about poor Uncle Guy
John was the first to grasp the unspoken dread and show that it was less than at first appeared
We ought to have had this letter two months ago this shows how often delays occur—we ought not to be surprised or uneasy at anything Guy does not say when the ship was to sail—she may be on her voyage still If he had but given the name of her owners But I can write to Lloyds and find out everything Cheer up mother Please God you shall have that wandering heedless boy of yours back before long
He replaced the letters in their enclosure—held a general consultation into which he threw a passing gleam of faint gaiety as to whether being ours we had a right to burn them or whether having passed through the postoffice they were not the writers but the owners property and Guy could claim them with all their useless news on his arrival in England This was finally decided and the mother with faint smile declared that nobody should touch them she would put them under lock and key till Guy came home
Then she took her husbands arm and the rest of us followed them as they walked slowly up the hill to Beechwood
But after that day Mrs Halifaxs strength decayed Not suddenly scarcely perceptibly not with any outward complaint except what she jested over as the natural weakness of old age but there was an evident change Week by week her long walks shortened she gave up her village school to me and though she went about the house still and insisted on keeping the keys gradually just for the sake of practice the domestic surveillance fell into the hands of Maud
An answer arrived from Lloyds the StarsandStripes was an American vessel probably of small tonnage and importance was the underwriters knew nothing of it
More delay—more suspense The summer days came—but not Guy No news of him—not a word—not a line
His father wrote to America—pursuing inquiries in all directions At last some tangible clue was caught The StarsandStripes had sailed had been spoken with about the Windward Isles—and never heard of afterwards
Still there was a hope John told the hope first before he ventured to speak of the missing ship and even then had to break the news gently for the mother had grown frail and weak and could not bear things as she used to do She clung as if they had been words of life or death to the shipowners postscript—that they had no recollection of the name of Halifax there might have been such a gentleman on board—they could not say But it was not probable for the StarsandStripes was a trading vessel and had not good accommodation for passengers
Then came week after week—I know not how they went by—one never does afterwards At the time they were frightfully vivid hour by hour we rose each morning sure that some hope would come in the course of the day we went to bed at night heavily as if there were no such thing as hope in the world Gradually and I think that was the worst consciousness of all our life of suspense became perfectly natural and everything in and about the house went on as usual just as though we knew quite well—what the Almighty Father alone knew—where our poor lad was and what had become of him Or rather as if we had settled in the certainty which perhaps the end of our own lives alone would bring us that he had slipped out of life altogether and there was no such being as Guy Halifax under this pitiless sun
The mothers heart was breaking She made no moan but we saw it in her face One morning—it was the morning after Johns birthday which we had made a feint of keeping with Grace Oldtower the two little grandchildren Edwin and Louise—she was absent at breakfast and dinner she had not slept well and was too tired to rise Many days following it happened the same with the same faint excuse or with no excuse at all How we missed her about the house—ay changed as she had been How her husband wandered about ghostlike from room to room—could not rest anywhere or do anything Finally he left our company altogether and during the hours that he was at home rarely quitted for more than a few minutes the quiet bedchamber where every time his foot entered it the poor pale face looked up and smiled
Ay smiled for I noticed as many another may have done in similar cases that when her physical health definitely gave way her mental health returned The heavy burthen was lighter she grew more cheerful more patient seemed to submit herself to the Almighty will whatever it might be As she lay on her sofa in the study where one or two evenings John carried her down almost as easily as he used to carry little Muriel his wife would rest content with her hand in his listening to his reading or quietly looking at him as though her lost sons face which a few weeks since she said haunted her continually were now forgotten in his fathers Perhaps she thought the one she should soon see—while the other—
Phineas she whispered one day when I was putting a shawl over her feet or doing some other trifle that she thanked me for—Phineas if anything happens to me you will comfort John
Then first I began seriously to contemplate a possibility hitherto as impossible and undreamed of as that the moon should drop out of the height of heaven—What would the house be without the mother
Her children never suspected this I saw but they were young For her husband—
I could not understand John He so quicksighted he who meeting any sorrow looked steadily up at the Hand that smote him knowing neither the cowards dread nor the unbelievers disguise of pain—surely he must see what was impending Yet he was as calm as if he saw it not Calm as no man could be contemplating the supreme parting between two who nearly all their lives had been not two but one flesh
Yet I had once heard him say that a great love and only that makes parting easy Could it be that this love of his which had clasped his wife so firmly faithfully and long fearlessly clasped her still by its own perfectness assured of its immortality
But all the while his human love clung about her showing itself in a thousand forms of watchful tenderness And hers clung to him closely dependently she let herself be taken care of ruled and guided as if with him she found helplessness restful and submission sweet Many a little outward fondness that when people have been long married naturally drops into disuse was revived again he would bring her flowers out of the garden or new books from the town and many a time when no one noticed I have seen him stoop and press his lips upon the faded hand where the weddingring hung so loosely—his own for so many years his own till the dust claimed it that wellbeloved hand
Ay he was right Loss affliction death itself are powerless in the presence of such a love as theirs
It was already the middle of July From January to July—six months Our neighbours without—and there were many who felt for us—never asked now Is there any news of Mr Guy Even pretty Grace Oldtower—pretty still but youthful no longer—only lifted her eyes inquiringly as she crossed our doorway and dropped them again with a hopeless sigh She had loved us all faithfully and well for a great many years
One night when Miss Oldtower had just gone home after staying with us the whole day—Maud and I sat in the study by ourselves where we generally sat now The father spent all his evenings upstairs We could hear his step overhead as he crossed the room or opened the window then drew his chair back to its constant place by his wifes bedside Sometimes there was a faint murmur of reading or talk then long silence
Maud and I sat in silence too She had her own thoughts—I mine Perhaps they were often one and the same perhaps—for youth is youth after all—they may have diverged widely Hers were deep absorbed thoughts at any rate travelling fast—fast as her needle travelled for she had imperceptibly fallen into her mothers ways and her mothers work
We had the lamp lit but the windows were wide open and through the sultry summer night we could hear the trickle of the stream and the rustle of the leaves in the beechwood We sat very still waiting for nothing expecting nothing in the dull patience which always fell upon us about this hour—the hour before bedtime when nothing more was to be looked for but how best to meet another dreary day
Maud was that the click of the front gate swinging
No I told Walter to lock it before he went to bed Last night it disturbed my mother
Again silence So deep that the maids opening the door made us both start
Miss Halifax—theres a gentleman wanting to see Miss Halifax
Maud sprung up in her chair breathless
Any one you know is it
No Miss
Show the gentleman in
He stood already in the doorway—tall brown bearded Maud just glanced at him then rose bending stiffly after the manner of Miss Halifax of Beechwood
Will you be seated My father—
Maud dont you know me Wheres my mother I am Guy
CHAPTER XXXIX
Guy and his mother were together She lay on a sofa in her dressingroom he sat on a stool beside her so that her arm could rest on his neck and she could now and then turn his face towards her and look at it—oh what a look
She had had him with her for two whole days—two days to be set against eight years Yet the eight years seemed already to have collapsed into a span of time and the two days to have risen up a great mountain of happiness making a barrier complete against the woeful past as happiness can do—thanks to the Allmerciful for His mercies Most especially for that mercy—true as His truth to the experience of all pure hearts—that one bright brief season of joy can outweigh in reality and even in remembrance whole years of apparently interminable pain
Two days only since the night Guy came home and yet it seemed months ago Already we had grown familiar to the tall bearded figure the strange step and voice about the house all except Maud who was rather shy and reserved still We had ceased the endeavour to reconcile this our Guy—this tall grave man of nearly thirty looking thirtyfive and more—with Guy the boy that left us the boy that in all our lives we never should find again Nevertheless we took him just as he was to our hearts rejoicing in him one and all with inexpressible joy
He was much altered certainly It was natural nay right that he should be He had suffered much a great deal more than he ever told us—at least not till long after had gone through poverty labour sickness shipwreck He had written home by the StarsandStripes—sailed a fortnight later by another vessel—been cast away—picked up by an outwardbound ship—and finally landed in England he and his partner as penniless as they left it
Was your partner an Englishman then said Maud who sat at the foot of the sofa listening You have not told us anything about him yet
Guy half smiled I will by and by Its a long story Just now I dont want to think of anybody or anything except my mother
He turned as he did twenty times a day to press his rough cheek upon her hand and look up into her thin face his eyes overflowing with love
You must get well now mother Promise
Her smile promised—and even began the fulfilment of the same
I think she looks stronger already—does she Maud You know her looks better than I I dont ever remember her being ill in old times Oh mother I will never leave you again—never
No my boy
No Guy no—John came in and stood watching them both contentedly No my son you must never leave your mother
I will not leave either of you father said Guy with a reverent affection that must have gladdened the mothers heart to the very core Resigning his place by her Guy took Mauds facing them and father and son began to talk of various matters concerning their home and business arrangements taking counsel together as father and son ought to do These eight years of separation seemed to have brought them nearer together the difference between them—in age far less than between most fathers and sons had narrowed into a meetingpoint Never in all his life had Guy been so deferent so loving to his father And with a peculiar trust and tenderness Johns heart turned to his eldest son the heir of his name his successor at Enderley Mills For in order that Guy might at once take his natural place and feel no longer a waif and stray upon the world already a plan had been started that the firm of Halifax and Sons should become Halifax Brothers Perhaps ere very long—only the mother said privately rather anxiously too that she did not wish this part of the scheme to be mentioned to Guy just now—perhaps ere long it would be Guy Halifax Esquire of Beechwood and the old people at happy little Longfield
As yet Guy had seen nobody but ourselves and nobody had seen Guy Though his mother gave various good reasons why he should not make his public appearance as a shipwrecked mariner costume and all yet it was easy to perceive that she looked forward not without apprehension to some meetings which must necessarily soon occur but to which Guy made not the smallest allusion He had asked cursorily and generally after all my brothers and sisters and been answered in the same tone but neither he nor we had as yet mentioned the names of Edwin or Louise
They knew he was come home but how and where the first momentous meeting should take place we left entirely to chance or more rightly speaking to Providence
So it happened thus Guy was sitting quietly on the sofa at his mothers feet and his father and he were planning together in what way could best be celebrated by our schoolchildren tenants and workpeople an event which we took a great interest in though not greater than in this year was taken by all classes throughout the kingdom—the day fixed for the abolition of Negro Slavery in our Colonies—the 1st of August 1834 He sat in an attitude that reminded me of his boyish lounging ways the picture of content though a stream of sunshine pouring in upon his head through the closed Venetian blind showed many a deep line of care on his forehead and more than one silver thread among his brown hair
In a pause—during which no one exactly liked to ask what we were all thinking about—there came a little tap at the door and a little voice outside
Please me want to come in
Maud jumped up to refuse admission but Mr Halifax forbade her and himself went and opened the door A little child stood there—a little girl of three years old
Apparently guessing who she was Guy rose up hastily and sat down in his place again
Come in little maid said the father come in and tell us what you want
Me want to see Grannie and Uncle Guy
Guy started but still he kept his seat The mother took her grandchild in her feeble arms and kissed her saying softly
There—that is Uncle Guy Go and speak to him
And then touching his knees Guy felt the tiny fearless hand He turned round and looked at the little thing reluctantly inquisitively Still he did not speak to or touch her
Are you Uncle Guy
Yes
Why dont you kiss me Everybody kisses me said everybodys pet neither frightened nor shy never dreaming of a repulse
Nor did she find it Her little fingers were suffered to cling round the tightlyclosed hand
What is your name my dear
Louise—mammas little Louise
Guy put back the curls and gazed long and wistfully into the childish face where the inherited beauty was repeated line for line But softened spiritualised as years after its burial some ghost of a mans old sorrows may rise up and meet him the very spirit of peace shining out of its celestial eyes
Little Louise you are very like—
He stopped—and bending down kissed her In that kiss vanished for ever the last shadow of his boyhoods love Not that he forgot it—God forbid that any good man should ever either forget or be ashamed of his first love But it and all its pain fled far away back into the sacred eternities of dreamland
When looking up at last he saw a large fair matronly lady sitting by his mothers sofa Guy neither started nor turned pale It was another and not his lost Louise He rose and offered her his hand
You see your little daughter has made friends with me already She is very like you only she has Edwins hair Where is my brother Edwin
Here old fellow Welcome home
The two brothers met warmly nay affectionately Edwin was not given to demonstration but I saw how his features twitched and how he busied himself over the knots in his little girls pinafore for a minute or more When he spoke again it was as if nothing had happened and Guy had never been away
For the mother she lay with her arms folded looking from one to the other mutely or closing her eyes with a faint stirring of the lips like prayer It seemed as if she dared only THUS to meet her exceeding joy
Soon Edwin and Louise left us for an hour or two and Guy went on with the history of his life in America and his partner who had come home with him and like himself had lost his all
Harder for him than for me he is older than I am He knew nothing whatever of business when he offered himself as my clerk since then he has worked like a slave In a fever I had he nursed me he has been to me these three years the best truest friend He is the noblest fellow Father if you only knew—
Well my son let me know him Invite the gentleman to Beechwood or shall I write and ask him Maud fetch me your mothers desk Now then Guy—you are a very forgetful fellow still you have never yet told us your friends name
Guy looked steadily at his father in his own straightforward way hesitated—then apparently made up his mind
I did not tell you because he wished me not not till you understood him as well as I do You knew him yourself once—but he has wisely dropped his title Since he came over to me in America he has been only Mr William Ravenel
This discovery—natural enough when one began to think over it but incredible at first astounded us all For Maud—well was it that the little Louise seated in her lap hid and controlled in some measure the violent agitation of poor Auntie Maud
Ay—Maud loved him Perhaps she had guessed the secret cause of his departure and love creates love often times Then his brave renunciation of rank fortune even of herself—women glory in a moral hero—one who has strength to lose even love and bear its loss for the sake of duty or of honour His absence too might have done much—absence which smothers into decay a rootless fancy but often nourishes the least seed of a true affection into fullflowering love Ay—Maud loved him How or why or when at first no one could tell—perhaps not even herself but so it was and her parents saw it
Both were deeply moved—her brother likewise
Father he whispered have I done wrong I did not know—how could I guess
No no—my son It is very strange—all things just now seem so strange Maud my child—and John roused himself out of a long silence into which he was falling—go and take Louise to her mother
The girl rose eager to get away As she crossed the room—the little creature clinging round her neck and she clasping it close in the sweet motherliness of character which had come to her so early—I thought—I hoped—
Maud said John catching her hand as she passed him by—Maud is not afraid of her father
No—in troubled uncertainty—then with a passionate decision as if ashamed of herself—
No
She leaned over his chairback and kissed him—then went out
Now—Guy
Guy told in his own frank way all the history of himself and William Ravenel how the latter had come to America determined to throw his lot for good or ill to sink or swim with Mauds brother—chiefly as Guy had slowly discovered because he was Mauds brother At last—in the open boat on the Atlantic with death the great revealer of all things staring them in the face—the whole secret came out It made them better than friends—brothers
This was Guys story told with a certain spice of determination too as if—let his fathers will be what it might his own which had now also settled into the strong family will was resolute on his friends behalf Yet when he saw how grave nay sad the father sat he became humble again and ended his tale even as he had begun with the entreaty—Father if you only knew—
My knowing and my judging seem to have been of little value my son Be it so There is One wiser than I—One in whose hands are the issues of all things
The sort of contrition with which he spoke—thus retracting as it costs most men so much to retract a decision given however justly at the time but which fate has afterwards pronounced unjust affected his son deeply
Father your decision was right—William says it was He says also that it could not have been otherwise that whatever he has become since he owes it all to you and to what passed that day Though he loves her still will never love any one else yet he declares his loss of her has proved his salvation
He is right said Mrs Halifax Love is worth nothing that will not stand trial—a fiery trial if needs be And as I have heard John say many and many a time—as he said that very night—in this world there is not ought not to be any such words as too late
John made no answer He sat his chin propped on his right hand the other pressed against his bosom—his favourite attitude Once or twice with a deepdrawn painful breath he sighed
Guys eagerness could not rest Father I told him I would either write to or see him today
Where is he
At Norton Bury Nothing could induce him to come here unless certain that you desired it
I do desire it
Guy started up with great joy Shall I write then
I will write myself
But Johns hand shook so much that instead of his customary free bold writing he left only blots upon the page He leant back in his chair and said faintly—
I am getting an old man I see Guy it was high time you came home
Mrs Halifax thought he was tired and made a place for his head on her pillow where he rested some minutes just to please her he said Then he rose and declared he would himself drive over to Norton Bury for our old friend
Nay let me write father Tomorrow will do just as well
The father shook his head No—it must be today
Bidding goodbye to his wife—he never by any chance quitted her for an hour without a special tender leavetaking—John went away
Guy was he avouched as happy as a king His old liveliness returned he declared that in this matter which had long weighed heavily on his mind he had acted like a great diplomatist or like the gods themselves whom some unexacting humble youth calls upon to
Annihilate both time and space
And make two lovers happy
And Im sure I shall be happy too in seeing them They shall be married immediately And well take William into partnership—that was a whim of his mother—we call one another Guy and William just like brothers Heigho Im very glad Are not you
The mother smiled
You will soon have nobody left but me No matter I shall have you all to myself and be at once a spoiled child and an uncommonly merry old bachelor
Again the mother smiled without reply She too doubtless thought herself a great diplomatist
William Ravenel—he was henceforward never anything to us but William—came home with Mr Halifax First the mother saw him then I heard the father go to the maiden bower where Maud had shut herself up all day—poor child—and fetch his daughter down Lastly I watched the two—Mr Ravenel and Miss Halifax—walk together down the garden and into the beechwood where the leaves were whispering and the stockdoves cooing and where I suppose they told and listened to the old tale—old as Adam—yet for ever beautiful and new
That day was a wonderful day That night we gathered as we never thought we should gather again in this world round the family table—Guy Edwin Walter Maud Louise and William Ravenel—all changed yet not one lost A true lovefeast it was a renewed celebration of the family bond which had lasted through so much sorrow now knitted up once more never to be broken
When we came quietly to examine one another and fall into one anothers old ways there was less than one might have expected even of outward change The table appeared the same all took instinctively their old places except that the mother lay on her sofa and Maud presided at the urn
It did ones heart good to look at Maud as she busied herself about in her capacity as vicereine of the household perhaps with a natural feeling liking to show some one present how mature and sedate she was—not so very young after all You could see she felt deeply how much he loved her—how her love was to him like the restoring of his youth The responsibility sweet as it was made her womanly made her grave She would be to him at once wife and child plaything and comforter sustainer and sustained Ay love levels all things They were not illmatched in spite of those twenty years
And so I left them and went and sat with John and Ursula—we the generation passing away or ready to pass in Heavens good time to make room for these We talked but little our hearts were too full Early before anybody thought of moving John carried his wife upstairs again saying that well as she looked she must be compelled to economise both her good looks and her happiness
When he came down again he stood talking for some time with Mr Ravenel While he talked I thought he looked wearied—pallid even to exhaustion a minute or two afterwards he silently left the room
I followed him and found him leaning against the chimneypiece in his study
Whos that He spoke feebly he looked—ghastly
I called him by his name
Come in Fetch no one Shut the door
The words were hoarse and abrupt but I obeyed
Phineas he said again holding out a hand as if he thought he had grieved me dont mind I shall be better presently I know quite well what it is—ah my God—my God
Sharp horrible pain—such as human nature shrinks from—such as makes poor mortal flesh cry out in its agony to its Maker as if for the time being life itself were worthless at such a price I know now what it must have been I know now what he must have endured
He held me fast half unconscious as he was lest I should summon help and when a step was heard in the passage as once before—the day Edwin was married—how on a sudden I remembered all—he tottered forward and locked doublelocked the door
After a few minutes the worst suffering abated and he sat down again in his chair I got some water he drank and let me bathe his face with it—his face grey and deathlike—Johns face
But I am telling the bare facts—nothing more
A few heavy sighs gasped as it were for life and he was himself again
Thank God it is over now Phineas you must try and forget all you have seen I wish you had not come to the door
He said this not in any tone that could wound me but tenderly as if he were very sorry for me
What is it
There is no need for alarm—no more than that day—you recollect—in this room I had an attack once before then—a few times since It is horrible pain while it lasts you see I can hardly bear it But it goes away again as you also see It would be a pity to tell my wife or anybody in fact I had rather not You understand
He spoke thus in a matteroffact way as if he thought the explanation would satisfy me and prevent my asking further He was mistaken
John what is it
What is it Why something like what I had then but it comes rarely and I am well again directly I had much rather not talk about it Pray forget it
But I could not nor I thought could he He took up a book and sat still though often times I caught his eyes fixed on my face with a peculiar earnestness as if he would fain test my strength—fain find out how much I loved him and loving how much I could bear
You are not reading John you are thinking—what about
He paused a little as if undetermined whether or not to tell me then said About your father Do you remember him
I looked surprised at the question
I mean do you remember how he died
Somehow—though God knows not at that dear and sacred remembrance—I shuddered Yes but why should we talk of it now
Why not I have often thought what a happy death it was—painless instantaneous without any wasting sickness beforehand—his sudden passing from life present to life eternal Phineas your fathers was the happiest death I ever knew
It may be—I am not sure John for again something in his look and manner struck me—why do you say this to me
I scarcely know Yes I do know
Tell me then
He looked at me across the table—steadily eye to eye as if he would fain impart to my spirit the calmness that was in his own I believe Phineas that when I die my death will be not unlike your fathers
Something came wildly to my lips about impossibility the utter impossibility of any mans thus settling the manner of his death or the time
I know that I know that I may live ten or twenty years and die of another disease after all
Disease
Nay—it is nothing to be afraid of You see I am not afraid I have guessed it for many years I have known it for a certainty ever since I was in Paris
Were you ill in Paris—You never said so
No—because—Phineas do you think you could bear the truth You know it makes no real difference I shall not die an hour sooner for being aware of it
Aware of—what Say quickly
Dr K—— told me—I was determined to be told—that I had the disease I suspected beyond medical power to cure It is not immediately fatal he said I might live many years even to old age and I might die suddenly at any moment just as your father died
He said this gently and quietly—more quietly than I am writing the words down now and I listened—I listened
Phineas
I felt the pressure of his warm hand on my shoulder—the hand which had led me like a brothers all my life
Phineas we have known one another these forty years Is our love our faith so small that either of us for himself or his brother need be afraid of death—
Phineas—and the second time he spoke there was some faint reproach in the tone no one knows this but you I see I was right to hesitate I almost wish I had not told you at all
Then I rose
At my urgent request he explained to me fully and clearly the whole truth It was as most truths are less terrible when wholly known It had involved little suffering as yet the paroxysms being few and rare They had always occurred when he was alone or when feeling them coming on he could go away and bear them in solitude
I have always been able to do so until tonight She has not the least idea—my wife I mean
His voice failed
It has been terrible to me at times the thought of my wife Perhaps I ought to have told her Often I resolved I would and then changed my mind Latterly since she has been ill I have believed almost hoped that she would not need to be told at all
Would you rather then that she—
John calmly took up the word I shrank from uttering Yes I would rather of the two that she went away first She would suffer less and it would be such a short parting
He spoke as one would speak of a new abode an impending journey To him the great change the last terror of humanity was a thought—solemn indeed but long familiar and altogether without fear And as we sat there something of his spirit passed into mine I felt how narrow is the span between the life mortal and the life immortal—how in truth both are one with God
Ay he said that is exactly what I mean To me there is always something impious in the preparing for death that people talk about as if we were not continually whether in the flesh or out of it living in the Fathers presence as if come when He will the Master should not find all of us watching Do you remember saying so to me one day
Ah that day
Does it pain you my talking thus Because if so we will cease
No—go on
That is right I thought this attack having been somewhat worse than my last some one ought to be told It has been a comfort to me to tell you—a great comfort Phineas Always remember that
I have remembered it
Now one thing more and my mind is at ease You see though I may have years of life—I hope I shall—many busy years—I am never sure of a day and I have to take many precautions At home I shall be quite safe now He smiled again with evident relief And rarely I go anywhere without having one of my boys with me Still for fear—look here
He showed me his pocketbook on a card bearing his name and address was written in his own legible hand HOME AND TELL MY WIFE CAREFULLY
I returned the book As I did so there dropped out a little note—all yellow and faded—his wifes only loveletter—signed Yours sincerely Ursula March
John picked it up looked at it and put it back in its place
Poor darling poor darling He sighed and was silent for a while I am very glad Guy has come home very glad that my little Maud is so happily settled Hark how those children are laughing
For the moment a natural shade of regret crossed the fathers face the father to whom all the delights of home had been so dear But it soon vanished
How merry they are—how strangely things have come about for us and ours As Ursula was saying tonight at this moment we have not a single care
I grasped at that for Dr K—— had declared that if John had a quiet life—a life without many anxieties—he might humanly speaking attain a good old age
Ay your father did Who knows we may both be old men yet Phineas
And as he rose he looked strong in body and mind full of health and cheer—scarcely even on the verge of that old age of which he spoke And I was older than he
Now will you come with me to say goodnight to the children
At first I thought I could not—then I could After the rest had merrily dispersed John and I stood for a long time in the empty parlour his hand on my shoulder as he used to stand when we were boys talking
What we said I shall not write but I remember it every word And he—I KNOW he remembers it still
Then we clasped hands
Goodnight Phineas
Goodnight John
CHAPTER XL
Friday the first of August 1834
Many may remember that day what a soft grey summer morning it was and how it broke out into brightness how everywhere bells were ringing club fraternities walking with bands and banners schoolchildren having feasts and workpeople holidays how in town and country there was spread abroad a general sense of benevolent rejoicing—because honest old England had lifted up her generous voice nay had paid down cheerfully her twenty millions and in all her colonies the negro was free
Many may still find in some forgotten drawer the medal bought by thousands and tens of thousands of all classes in copper silver or gold—distributed in charityschools and given by old people to their grandchildren I saw Mrs Halifax tying one with a piece of blue ribbon round little Louises neck in remembrance of this day The pretty medal with the slave standing upright stretching out to Heaven free hands from which the fetters are dropping—as I overheard John say to his wife he could fancy the freeman Paul would stand in the Roman prison when he answered to those that loved him I HAVE FOUGHT THE GOOD FIGHT I HAVE FINISHED MY COURSE I HAVE KEPT THE FAITH
Now with my quickened ears I often heard John talking quietly to his wife on this wise
He remained by her side the whole forenoon—wheeling her about in her gardenchair taking her to see her schoolchildren in their glory on our lawn—to hear the shouts rising up from the people at the millyard below For all Enderley following the masters example took an interest hearty even among hearty hardworking England in the Emancipation of the Slaves
We had our own young people round us and the day was a glorious day they declared one and all
John was happy too—infinitely happy After dinner he carried his wife to her chair beside the weeping ash where she could smell the late hay in the meadow and hear the ripple of the stream in the beechwood—faint for it was almost dried up now but pleasant still Her husband sat on the grass making her laugh with his quaint sayings—admiring her in her new bonnet and in the lovely white shawl—Guys shawl—which Mr Guy himself had really no time for admiring He had gone off to the school teadrinking escorting his sister and sisterinlaw and another lady whose eyes brightened with most sisterly joy whenever she glanced at her old playfellow Guys sister she nevertheless was not nor was ever likely to be—and I questioned whether in his secret heart he had not begun already to feel particularly thankful for that circumstance
Ah mother cried the father smiling youll see how it will end all our young birds will soon be flown—there will be nobody left but you and me
Never mind John and stooping over him she gave him one of her quiet soft kisses precious now she was an old woman as they had been in the days of her bloom Never mind Once there were only our two selves—now there will be only our two selves again We shall be very happy We only need one another
Only one another my darling
This last word and the manner of his saying it I can hear if I listen in silence clear as if yet I heard its sound This last sight—of them sitting under the ashtree the sun making still whiter Ursulas white shawl brightening the marriage ring on her bare hand and throwing instead of silver some of their boyish gold colour into the edges of Johns curls—this picture I see with my shut eyes vivid as yesterday
I sat for some time in my room—then John came to fetch me for our customary walk along his favourite terrace on the Flat He rarely liked to miss it—he said the day hardly seemed complete or perfect unless one had seen the sun set Thus almost every evening we used to spend an hour or more pacing up and down or sitting in that little hollow under the brow of the Flat where as from the topmost seat of a natural amphitheatre one could see Rose Cottage and the old wellhead where the cattle drank our own green gardengate the dark mass of the beechwood and far away beyond that Nunneley Hill where the sun went down
There having walked somewhat less time than usual for the evening was warm and it had been a fatiguing day John and I sat down together We talked a little ramblingly—chiefly of Longfield—how I was to have my old room again—and how a new nursery was to be planned for the grandchildren
We cant get out of the way of children I see clearly he said laughing We shall have Longfield just as full as ever it was all summer time But in winter well be quiet and sit by the chimneycorner and plunge into my dusty desert of books—eh Phineas You shall help me to make notes for those lectures I have intended giving at Norton Bury these ten years past And well rub up our old Latin and dip into modern poetry—great rubbish I fear Nobody like our old friend Will of Avon or even your namesake worthy Phineas Fletcher
I reminded him of the Shepherds life and fate which he always liked so much and used to say was his ideal of peaceful happiness
Well and I think so still Keep true to the dreams of thy youth saith the old German I have not been false to mine I have had a happy life thank God ay and what few men can say it has been the very sort of happiness I myself would have chosen I think most lives if while faithfully doing our little best day by day we were content to leave their thread in wiser hands than ours would thus weave themselves out until looked back upon as a whole they would seem as bright a web as mine
He sat talking thus resting his chin on his hands—his eyes calm and sweet looking out westward—where the sun was about an hour from the horizon
Do you remember how we used to lie on the grass in your fathers garden and how we never could catch the sunset except in fragments between the abbey trees I wonder if they keep the yew hedge clipped as round as ever
I told him Edwin had said today that some strange tenants were going to make an inn of the old house and turn the lawn into a bowlinggreen
What a shame I wish I could prevent it And yet perhaps not he added after a silence Ought we not rather to recognise and submit to the universal law of change How each in his place is fulfilling his day and passing away just as that sun is passing Only we know not whither he passes while whither we go we know and the Way we know—the same yesterday today and for ever
Almost before he had done speaking—God grant that in the Kingdom I may hear that voice not a tone altered—I would not wish it altered even there—a whole troop of our young people came out of Mrs Tods cottage and nodded to us from below
There was Mrs Edwin standing talking to the good old soul who admired her babyboy very much but wouldnt allow there could be any children like Mrs Halifaxs children
There was Edwin deep in converse with his brother Guy while beside them—prettier and youngerlooking than ever—Grace Oldtower was making a posy for little Louise
Further down the slope walking slowly side by side evidently seeing nobody but one another were another couple
I think sometimes John that those two William and Maud will be the happiest of all the children
He smiled looked after them for a minute and then laid himself quietly down on his back along the slope his eyes still directed towards the sunset When brightening as it descended the sun shone level upon the place where we were sitting I saw John pull his broad straw hat over his face and compose himself with both hands clasped upon his breast in the attitude of sleep
I knew he was very tired so I spoke no more but threw my cloak over him He looked up thanked me silently with his old familiar smile One day—one day I shall know him by that smile I sat half an hour or more watching the sun which sank steadily slowly round and red without a single cloud Beautiful as I had never before seen it so clear that one could note the very instant its disc touched the horizons grey
Maud and Mr Ravenel were coming up the slope I beckoned them to come softly not to disturb the father They and I sat in silence facing the west The sun journeyed down to his setting—lower—lower there was a crescent a line a dim sparkle of light then—he was gone And still we sat—grave but not sad—looking into the brightness he had left behind believing yea knowing we should see his glorious face again tomorrow
How cold it has grown said Maud I think we ought to wake my father
She went up to him laid her hand upon his that were folded together over the cloak—drew back startled—alarmed
Father
I put the child aside It was I who moved the hat from Johns face—THE face—for John himself was far far away Gone from us unto Him whose faithful servant he was While he was sleeping thus the Master had called him
His two sons carried him down the slope They laid him in the upper room in Mrs Tods cottage Then I went home to tell his wife
She was at last composed as we thought lying on her bed deathlike almost but calm It was ten oclock at night I left her with all her children watching round her
I went out up to Rose Cottage to sit an hour by myself alone looking at him whom I should not see again for—as he had said—a little while
A little while—a little while I comforted myself with those words I fancied I could almost hear John saying them standing near me with his hand on my shoulder John himself quite distinct from that which lay so still before me beautiful as nothing but death can be younger much than he had looked this very morning—younger by twenty years
Farewell John Farewell my more than brother It is but for a little while
As I sat thinking how peacefully the hands lay clasped together still how sweet was the expression of the close mouth and what a strange shadowy likeness the whole face bore to Muriels little face which I had seen resting in the same deep rest on the same pillow some one touched me It was Mrs Halifax
How she came I do not know nor how she had managed to steal out from among her children Nor how she who had not walked for weeks had found her way up hither in the dark all alone Nor what strength almost more than mortal helped her to stand there as she did stand upright and calm—gazing—gazing as I had done
It is very like him dont you think so Phineas The voice low and soft unbroken by any sob He once told me in case of—this he would rather I did not come and look at him but I can you see
I gave her my place and she sat down by the bed It might have been ten minutes or more that she and I remained thus without exchanging a word
I think I hear some one at the door Brother will you call in the children
Guy altogether overcome knelt down beside his mother and besought her to let him take her home
Presently—presently my son You are very good to me but—your father Children come in and look at your father
They all gathered round her—weeping but she spoke without single tear
I was a girl younger than any of you when first I met your father Next month we shall have been married thirtythree years Thirtythree years
Her eyes grew dreamy as if fancy had led her back all that space of time her fingers moved to and fro mechanically over her weddingring
Children we were so happy you cannot tell He was so good he loved me so Better than that he made me good that was why I loved him Oh what his love was to me from the first strength hope peace comfort and help in trouble sweetness in prosperity How my life became happy and complete—how I grew worthier to myself because he had taken me for his own And what HE was—Children no one but me ever knew all his goodness no one but himself ever knew how dearly I loved your father We were more precious each to each than anything on earth except His service who gave us to one another
Her voice dropped all but inaudible but she roused herself and made it once more clear and firm the mothers natural voice
Guy Edwin all of you must never forget your father You must do as he wishes and live as he lived—in all ways You must love him and love one another Children you will never do anything that need make you ashamed to meet your father
As they hung round her she kissed them all—her three sons and her daughter one by one then her mind being perhaps led astray by the room we were in looked feebly round for one more child—remembered—smiled—
How glad her father will be to have her again—his own little Muriel
Mother mother darling come home whispered Guy almost in a sob
His mother stooped over him gave him one kiss more—him her favourite of all her children—and repeated the old phrase
Presently presently Now go away all of you I want to be left for a little alone with my husband
As we went out I saw her turn toward the bed—John John The same tone almost the same words with which she had crept up to him years before the day they were betrothed Just a low low murmur like a tired child creeping to fond protecting arms John John
We closed the door We all sat on the stairs outside it might have been for minutes it might have been for hours Within or without—no one spoke—nothing stirred
At last Guy softly went in
She was still in the same place by the bedside but half lying on the bed as I had seen her turn when I was shutting the door Her arm was round her husbands neck her face pressed inwards to the pillow was nestled close to his hair They might have been asleep—both of them
One of her children called her but she neither answered nor stirred
Guy lifted her up very tenderly his mother who had no stay left but him—his mother—a widow—
No thank God she was not a widow now